• This is the 31st story in the Just Between series.

• The title comes from Wendy (whose list of titles continues to inspire the most interesting stories for me to pursue.)

• Dedicated to Susan who visited me again and helped me hammer out this season.

• This was posted on January 22nd, 2000.

Just Between Give & Take
G. L. Dartt

Captain Kathryn Janeway of USS Voyager opened her eyes, the bedroom dim in the depth of night watch. A quick glance at the chronometer above her head revealed that it was 0300 hours, early morning, well into the gamma shift and that she should still be asleep. The compact woman sighed softly, stretching slightly. Beside her, the warm, lanky form of her spouse, Seven of Nine, slumbered peacefully, her respiration slow and deep, a most welcome sound to the Starfleet captain who knew what it indicated. Carefully, Janeway rolled over and pressed herself against her spouse, resting her head on the young woman's shoulder.

Seven stirred and embraced Janeway with her left arm, tucking the smaller woman up under her chin in an automatic response, but she did not wake and the captain smiled faintly as she listened to the easy, regular heartbeat beneath her ear. Finally, it seemed that Seven was able to sleep through until the morning. For far too many nights in the recent past, that had been something which had seemed tragically beyond the young woman's reach.

A month or so earlier, Seven had believed that she had found her mother, embracing the fact that she now had a blood family member on the ship ... only for the entire encounter to have turned out to be nothing more than a hurtful, if unmalicious, deception by an alien seeking refuge on Voyager. The deep pain and betrayal it had caused in the young woman still lingered, and Seven had spent many nights on the couch, staring out at the passing stars, seeking some form of peace, some sense of closure to the perceived betrayal. More often than not, Janeway had gone out to share in her partner's restlessness and the lack of sleep had grown progressively harder on the captain's mood, though she had done her utmost to control it, particularly in the presence of her spouse. The rest of her crew were feeling it, however, in the form of Janeway's increased lack of patience with incidents that she would have otherwise taken in stride. Fortunately, this new development in Seven's sleep patterns gave the captain cause for optimism.

Or perhaps it was what had happened two days ago that had directly contributed to her more positive mood.

Janeway stared into the night, watching the shadows play over the bulkhead across the room, cast by the stars passing by the large window above the head of the bed. The communiqué Voyager had received from Lt. Reginald Barclay of Starfleet Command still remained fresh and keenly sharp in her mind, every word, although distorted by distance and space, etched indelibly in her memory. Somehow, Earth had found a way to reach out to them and even if it was only a brief contact, there was a definite promise of more to come thanks to the specs which had been sent to reinitialize Voyager's communications array. The incident had completely electrified the ship, an atmosphere of great excitement and enthusiasm sweeping over the crew. Certainly, it had served to make Janeway feel less isolated and the thought of regular contact with home had eased considerably the constant burden of command that she carried. She did understand intellectually, that it had not closed the distance even one light-year between the ship, lost in the Delta Quadrant for the past six years, and the Federation. Yet suddenly, all that space was meaningless, bridged with those few words from Lt. Barclay and Admiral Owen Paris.

The thought of her mother, Gretchen Janeway, crossed the captain's mind and she stifled a rueful sigh. Along with the ship's logs, Voyager had sent back any and all personal messages that the crew had stored in the computer for just this sort of opportunity, including several letters that she and Seven had written over recent months, addressed to Gretchen, and Kathryn's sister, Phoebe. The captain did not regret Harry Kim's initiative in sending that packet attached to the logs, but she fretted over what might be included in her own letters. It occurred to Janeway, that deep down, she had not really anticipated ever having the opportunity to send the personal missives, and that her 'Letters to Home' had become more like a private diary rather than anything truly intended for her family's eyes. Knowing that she had touched on emotions and deeply personal thoughts while writing them, Janeway wished she could have had more time to do some editing before her mother had the opportunity to see them. What had she been thinking?

"Kathryn?"

Seven voice was slurred, but her arm tightened about the captain, pulling her closer.

"Sorry, darling," Janeway murmured with true regret, raising her head a little to kiss Seven's neck. "I didn't mean to wake you. Especially now, after all you've been through. You need your sleep."

"So do you," Seven pointed out logically. She nuzzled the captain's auburn hair. "What keeps you awake, my Kathryn?" she asked in a gentler tone.

"The same thing as last night and the night before," Janeway admitted. "The knowledge that we're no longer so alone out here."

Seven made the faint sound in her throat, which Janeway had learned to recognize as amusement. "Considering how many times we have been attacked by everyone from the Hirogen to the Borg," the young woman said dryly, "I do not understand where you acquired this idea that we are 'alone' in the Delta Quadrant."

Janeway chuckled throatily, pleasantly surprised by the humor, and poked Seven gently in the stomach with her thumb. "You know what I mean," she said. She sighed. "For the first time in six years, I feel like the end is in sight."

"The 'end'?"

"Home, Annika," Janeway said. "With all that entails. Even though we're still twenty years away, regular communication with Starfleet changes everything. We've gone from being 'lost' to simply being on the last leg of a long-term, deep-space mission."

"Yet, the distance between us and the Alpha Quadrant remains the same," Seven said, her tone slightly puzzled. "I do not believe things will change so dramatically."

"Perhaps logically," Janeway admitted, "they shouldn't. After all, it's not as if we can call for help if we get into trouble. But, being in regular contact with Starfleet, able to exchange information and send in reports just as we would in the Alpha Quadrant, will change things, darling. The crew, in particular, will start thinking about the future in more concrete terms, about their careers and what it means to be a Starfleet crew serving in the Delta Quadrant as opposed to merely a group of people thrown together by circumstance, trying to get home."

She stroked Seven's upper chest idly, her fingertips light on the smooth skin. "Hell," she added quietly. "I might even start receiving orders again."

Seven stiffened next to her. "Indeed?" she said.

Frowning, Janeway raised her head. "What's wrong?" she asked.

Seven was silent for long moments. "Has it occurred to you that I am Borg and will be treated as such by Starfleet Command?" she asked finally. "They may order you to confine me to the brig."

Janeway hugged her reassuringly. "Darling, that won't happen," she said, wondering where this concern was coming from suddenly. "You're no longer a part of the Collective and besides, you're also my spouse."

"I do not think that will make a difference," Seven noted pessimistically.

"Of course it will," Janeway assured her. "Don't forget when you, Chakotay and B'Elanna returned to the Alpha Quadrant for that brief period of time two years ago. You weren't treated as an enemy, then."

"Because the Federation was fully involved in a war with the Dominion," Seven pointed out. "We do not even know yet how that was resolved, if indeed, it was."

"I'm sure it was," Janeway allowed, dismissing Seven's concern until they actually had more information, knowing such speculation would be futile. "Honestly, of all the things to think about regarding this communication, this is the last thing we should worry about, Annika. Please, don't give this a second thought." She smiled. "That's an order," she added gently.

"Very well," Seven said quietly. She drew her fingertips down Janeway's spine, her face lost in internal musing, then she blinked and smiled at her spouse. "I know that you are very pleased with this," she added in a more indulgent tone. "You have been quite energetic in the past two days."

"Probably why I can't sleep," the captain agreed readily. "Maybe I should get up and take a run around the ship. Tire myself out."

Seven took the captain's hand in her own and raised it to her lips, kissing the palm lingeringly. "Surely, you can think of another way to 'tire yourself out'," she noted quietly, in a provocative tone.

Janeway's breath caught as the warm tingle shot along her nerve endings. The intimate implication in Seven's voice had been absent for far too long and it hinted that perhaps the young woman was truly recovering from the harsh blow she had received in the incident with the 'Mimic'. Seven would never fully return to the complete innocence she had once displayed, of course, and shadows still drifted across the pale eyes on occasion, but overall, the young woman had gotten stronger with every passing day. Now it seemed, she was ready to take yet another step, to resume more normalcy in her disrupted life, and the captain couldn't be more happy about it.

"I suppose I could," the captain admitted, her tone dropping to a husky trill. "Or did you have something specific in mind?"

"I believe you know what I have in mind," Seven told her, pulling her closer.

Ah, the resiliency of youth, Janeway thought as she felt Seven kiss along her jaw. Wasn't it wonderful?

Of course, what was most wonderful was her partner's obvious intent, the Borg's hands starting to roam over the captain's body, stroking her with familiar caresses and touches, knowing just where and how to arouse Janeway. The captain raised her face, Seven's lips covering hers in one of those achingly sweet, toe-curling, completely absorbing kisses that left the older woman absolutely breathless. Lately, Seven had been someone whom Janeway had needed to take care of, and while the captain did not regret one micro-second of the support and comfort she had provided her partner, there was also a part of her that now delighted in being held by her lover, of being desired and able to return that desire without reservation. Of being an equal and not the caretaker of her spouse.

"I have missed loving you, Kathryn," Seven whispered as she caressed her languidly. "I have missed holding you and touching you and needing you and wanting you."

"I've missed all that as well," Janeway admitted honestly, inhaling sharply as Seven covered her breast with a questing hand, kneading it tenderly, before moving over to the other to pay it equal attention. "You don't know how much."

"I regret that I allowed the incident with the alien to disrupt our togetherness to such an extent," Seven continued in a murmur, her mouth moving over Janeway with rising passion. "No longer."

"You needed to recover in your own way, darling," Janeway assured her, arching into the Borg's caresses. "That's to ... mmm ... be expected."

"I love you, Kathryn," Seven promised, between each shattering, sensual kiss. "I will never ... neglect you ... like this again."

Janeway felt dizzy, responding to her partner's ardor with all her senses. "I never felt ... neglected, my darling," she told her sincerely, then laughed huskily. "And I certainly ... ah ... don't feel neglected now."

"Still, I am sorry that I have needed to take so much from you lately," Seven said, easing Janeway over onto her back. "While giving so little to you in return."

"Don't be ... sorry, love," Janeway protested mildly, running her hands over Seven's neck and shoulders, tangling in the long, blonde hair. Her breath was coming in gasps now, the pleasure rising with almost overpowering demand after so long. "That's what marriage ... oh ... is all about."

"Marriage is best when it is an equitable experience," Seven corrected quietly, reaching the juncture of her partner's legs, stroking luxuriously with fingers that touched deeply in the heat and wetness. "Tonight, we shall give and take in equal measure."

"Yes," Janeway agreed reverently, before ceasing all speech ... at least, all coherent speech. Seven was forceful, yet gentle, claiming her love for Janeway with firm command, leaving little doubt about how much she liked giving pleasure to her partner. Then later, she took from Janeway joyfully, demandingly, clinging to the smaller woman as she shuddered from pulsations which possessed her for long seconds before finally easing.

Afterward, they lay together in a sweet and sweaty tangle, Seven behind Janeway, knees tucked up under hers, her body pleasing and warm against her back. Janeway was very aware of Seven continuing to hold her intimately, palm cupping the captain's mound possessively. She smiled and reached down, covering Seven's hand with her own.

"Keeping it warm for me?" she muttered in amusement.

"Keeping in contact," Seven corrected with gentle humor. She squeezed gently, her middle finger pressing deliciously against Janeway's moist and still sensitive flesh, making the captain twitch in involuntary response to the stimulation. "So I know where it is in the event I wish to access it again."

Janeway laughed. "As if you ever had trouble accessing it," she teased.

Seven nipped at the captain's earlobe playfully. "Recently perhaps," she said, "but no longer." She squeezed again, enticingly, pressing her body against the captain's. "Indeed, I believe I should access it now."

Janeway quirked an eyebrow.

"Oh, my," she said. "Would it do any good to say, 'Access denied'?"

"No," Seven told her. "Resistance is futile."

Janeway just laughed again, joyfully, and willingly surrendered to her partner, feeling as if all the universe was aligning in her favor. Finally. Sickbay was quiet and the small, slender form of Sek, Voyager's Emergency Holographic Medical Assistant, worked intently at her work station. Activated only a year and a half earlier, Sek's holographic matrix had been programmed from a combination of crew profiles, most notably that of Kes, the Ocampa. During her time on Voyager, Kes had developed significant mental abilities and evolved into a higher lifeform, leaving the ship when it appeared that her transformation would damage it. As her final gift to the crew, she boosted the Federation starship 10,000 light-years closer to the Alpha Quadrant, allowing them to clear Borg space and unquestionably saving them from inevitable assimilation.

Approximately a year later, the Doctor had lobbied for an assistant, one whose help would be crucial in a particularly tricky surgery he was going to perform. Working feverishly, he, the captain, Lt. Harry Kim and Lt. B'Elanna Torres had created the hologram in one night, utilizing Kes's personal profile because of the Ocampa's medical knowledge. The result was an EHMA in the shape and form of the young woman, who could learn and theoretically achieve sentience, just as the Doctor had.

In the beginning, Sek had made an effort to distance herself from her namesake, going so far as to alter her appearance both in height and coloration, in addition to reversing the name. But recently, over a period of a few months, she had gradually returned to her original appearance until finally, once again, she looked very much as the diminutive Kes had appeared, blonde with elven ears and warm blue eyes. No one had seemed to notice, or at least made any comment about it to her. If pressed, she couldn't explain why she had felt the need to return to what she looked like when she had started out, but she did allow that perhaps as she grew into her own person, appearance had become less of a sore spot for her.

She scanned the text from the console in front of her, filing it in her memory. Of course, as a hologram tied into the ship's systems, she could access any part of the computer database in an instant. But part of the uniqueness of Voyager's medical holograms, was the ability to leave the ship's holo-emitters behind by utilizing tiny, portable ones. Both she and the Doctor could download their programs into small devices constructed from 29th Century technology, which allowed them to not only leave sickbay, but the ship itself. However, if she wanted to act on the information she was downloading in the future and learn from it as well, she had to 'memorize' it, make it a part of herself, just as regular Humans did when they were taught. She was much faster of course, but it still took more time than simply accessing the database would be. Plus, since the storage capacity of the portable emitters was limited, she needed to pick and choose carefully what she could file within her, thus requiring her to 'learn' from the information rather than simply storing it.

Learning and retaining what she learned had become very important because her ultimate goal was to become the ship's counselor.

Originally, the Doctor had been against it, citing his own failed attempt at incorporating psychiatric sub-routines into his holo-matrix. Sek had pointed out that she was going to learn how to be a ship's counselor the old fashioned way, via a two-stage program of study and hands-on practice under the supervision of certain master psychologists in the holodeck. She was not going to attempt any 'shortcuts' as he had tried. She had carefully researched and created a curriculum for herself and presented it to the captain, laying out the necessity for it.

Janeway, in contrast, had required little convincing. The captain had just spent a difficult time trying to assist a crewmember who had lost her baby in the eight month of her pregnancy, and Janeway was more than glad to have another resource created for any future incidents requiring emotional counseling. The captain overruled the Doctor's objections and granted Sek permission to pursue her studies. Now, only a few months later, Sek was already into the second phase. She was excited by it, and scared as well, wondering if perhaps it would have been better if she had been programmed without emotions. Yet, she also knew it was the compassion and empathy that Kes had possessed ... passed on to her in liberal amounts ... that would make it possible for her to be a true ship's counselor as opposed to just a simulation of one. Just as the Doctor, in evolving his emotions and subconscious, had evolved into a real medical practitioner rather than just an Emergency Medical Hologram.

Sek looked up as the door to sickbay slid open and Seven of Nine entered. The hologram thought the Borg looked a little disturbed, totally unlike her normal, self-assured self. But then, perhaps that was to be expected after all the young woman had been through lately. Sek frowned and stood up, leaving the office to meet the statuesque blonde.

"Seven?" she asked gently. "Can I help you?"

Seven regarded her with that direct, no nonsense stare. "I have been experiencing a certain emotional upheaval recently, as you are aware," she said precisely, in her cool tone. "That has intensified with the communication from Starfleet. I feel the need to address this immediately in order to resolve it before more time has passed and it continues to disrupt the functioning of my role on the ship."

Sek tilted her head. "Indeed?" she prompted curiously, not quite understanding what Seven was talking about. "And how do you think I can assist?"

"I understand that you are studying to become a ship's counselor," Seven said with her characteristic honesty. "Because of that, perhaps you could be more efficient in assisting me in what is obviously a psychological disturbance rather than a physical one; one I am unable to come to terms with on my own. Also, because you are an objective party, I will no longer have to distract the captain with it."

Sek was rocked and actually stepped back a pace. "Seven," she said, striving for calmness, "the operative word here is 'studying' to be a ship's counselor. I've just started phase two of my education. I don't actually have leave to practice yet."

Seven raised an eyebrow. "Are you refusing to help me?" she asked dispassionately.

Sek opened her mouth to respond, hesitated and reconsidered. The first rule of medicine was: do no harm. Yet, it was clear that Seven needed something ... just the young woman coming to sickbay was significant in itself. And the fact was, if the Borg had come to her about this, perhaps others in the crew were also reacting to the communication from Starfleet in ways that were not readily apparent, yet could also be damaging. It occurred to Sek that perhaps she no longer had the luxury of time and she had to seriously consider what harm not offering her help might do.

The hologram inhaled slowly, though she really had no need to breathe at all. "Can I think about this?" she asked. "Maybe consult with a few others, before I give you a definite answer? I promise, I won't say why I need the advice, just what kind I need."

Seven frowned faintly. "How long would you require?" she asked.

Sek rubbed her temples. "About a year," she muttered. Unlike Kes, Sek also possessed a healthy dose of sarcastic wit, no doubt from the contribution to her personality matrix provided by both the Doctor and B'Elanna. She supposed that small portion of cynicism granted her a certain balance that Kes had lacked ... at least, she hoped it did. It wasn't as if she could get rid of it.

"I think I can find all my answers by the end of my shift," she added in a clearer voice. "I'll get back to you by this afternoon."

"That is acceptable," Seven replied. She paused. "Thank you," she added.

Sek reached out and patted her on the arm. "Don't thank me yet," she said. "I haven't done anything."

"Nonetheless, the knowledge that you will try is acceptable," Seven replied. She nodded briefly and abruptly left.

Sek stared after her, curious as to why Seven didn't feel comfortable speaking with the captain about this, then returned to the office and shut down her workstation, adding a note to the Doctor that she would be out for a while. He was currently in a dormant mode, 'resting' as he called it, and since she could transport back to sickbay instantly, it was not required that she remain to cover the area.

She picked up the small, triangular device which was kept in a very secure area in the office and strapped it to her arm, activating it with a touch. There was a slight disorientation, almost a sense of being compressed and reformatted, then it was gone, leaving her feeling much as she had before, only somewhat ... less. It was hard to explain, but she was keenly aware every time she put it on that she was no longer linked to the ship, no longer had the access to all the vast knowledge in the databanks. She felt ... less intelligent. She wondered if only she felt like this or if the Doctor also experienced such a sense of displacement. Though, she did consider the fact, that if it was only her, it could be a functional defect of her portable emitter which was only a copy of the original, rather than actual 29th century technology.

Without it, however, she would have no freedom of movement, she reminded herself as she left sickbay. That in itself was worth any minor sense of isolation and lessened access to Voyager's computer core.

Her first stop was holodeck one, which fortunately, was unoccupied at the moment. She went inside and activated her Phase II program. Immediately, the large space, a deep matte black with glowing, yellow lines in a regular grid pattern, altered to an airy room bordered by looming windows through which, the breeze of Rissa entered along with the soft calls of birds. Sitting at a table, three figures regarded her expectantly.

They were the triumvirate of masters, one Klingon, one Vulcan and one Human. Learning the psychology of one species inevitably assisted in granting deep insights into that of the other two, and ironically enough, most other alien species that the Federation encountered. It was as if the three distinct species of intellect, emotion and physicality made the perfect balance for psychology to be studied. Certainly, between the three, every possible path which could be taken by an intelligent species had been.

The rangy Klingon on the right was Healer Karn, a most respected scholar in a culture of warriors, his shaggy head offering a large braincase, and his dark eyes glittered with intelligence and no little humor. In the center, Dr. T'Var, a slender, darkly attractive Vulcan female who had literally written the book on understanding the stoic people ... which so few people wished to read because of its uncomfortable and unswerving truths about emotion and logic ... sat with complete composure. The third man, a bearded Human named Dr. David Sylvan, was one of the penultimate psychologists and teachers in history and, by the time of his death some ten years earlier, he had completely revolutionized Starfleet Medical, implementing the entire concept of ship's counselors which had also instituted the inclusion of families on vessels pursuing deep-space missions.

This triad acted as her supervisors in the second phase of her learning and it was these three who would best know the correct course of action to take regarding Seven's request. Sek quietly laid it out for them and waited for their response. They would frequently argue amongst themselves for a certain period of time, which she always found far more enlightening than if they simply explained to her what they thought she should do. One advantage to programming her own mentors was that she was assured of a perfect fit for herself, though the Doctor had done the actual programming with Harry Kim.

Dr. Sylvan frowned, his snowy head shaking slightly as he considered the petition. "You realize, actual life experience is different from the simulated case studies we had decided you would experience," he told her. "Regardless of the fact that they would be based on real-life scenarios. This could lead to most unexpected consequences."

Karn spread his hands. "But the child would have to start one day on real people," he objected, his voice a deep rumble. "Certainly in my day, we didn't have all this holographic nonsense. You always had to use actual case studies."

T'Var inclined her head elegantly. "I concur," she said in a finely modulated tone. "Reality-based case studies have always been used with junior psychologists at this stage, the more difficult, the better."

Sylvan regarded the other two. "That's the problem," he noted. "Extreme cases are always more easy to handle than those of this apparent simplicity. One looks at it and says, 'help this crewmember deal with returning to a home which may have changed considerably.' That could result in far more difficulty than a junior should be facing at this stage."

"But Sek must face difficult cases sooner or later," Karn retorted, thumping his fist onto the desk. "I say, make it sooner. It is best to separate the weak from the strong before too much time is wasted on them."

T'Var quirked an eyebrow. "Emotionally stated, but logical," she agreed. "We must also take into account that this patient may only be the first of many. After all, this was a communiqué only, not a concrete way to return Voyager to the Alpha Quadrant. Others may have more difficulty dealing with the distance now than when there was a sense of being completely isolated from the Federation."

Sylvan nodded thoughtfully. "A good point," he noted. "Should we allow our fears of possible consequences cause harm to the crewmembers of this vessel?"

"Can we do any further harm by offering assistance?" T'Var remarked pointedly.

"We shall keep a close eye to make sure that doesn't happen," Karn noted. "That is why we exist."

Sylvan looked back at Sek. "Agreed," he said. "I recommend you accept the case and prepare yourself for others."

"I too, recommend it," T'Var noted.

Karn thumped his fist on the table once more. "Yes," he thundered. "Go! Succeed! Quit wasting our time."

"Thank you," Sek replied politely and took her leave.

The comments of her masters did not necessarily quell the uncertainty residing within her, but there was also an anticipation rising deep in her heart as well. A real case. And there was also the fact that she genuinely liked Seven. If she could somehow help the Borg find enough peace with the future, to be able to embrace the eventual return to the Alpha Quadrant rather than be anxious about it, then Sek would have accomplished something both personally and professionally satisfying.

Sek remembered once telling the captain, when her very existence had been on the line, that unlike a living being, she did not strive to be more than what she was ... that she was content to be a Medical Assistant and nothing beyond. As she was allowed to evolve, however, that changed and as she grew, there developed within her a passionate desire to do all she could to help the crew of Voyager. At first, she had thought that had meant becoming another doctor, but after dealing with all the new mothers who had come through sickbay and realizing that most of what she was doing to help them was primarily listening and talking with them, she had began to consider psychology. Then the incident with Ensign White had occurred and Sek had been helpless, not knowing what to say or do which would help the young woman come to terms with her loss. That had started Sek researching counseling techniques and very quickly, she realized she had found her true calling.

It just felt so right in every aspect. She believed that somehow, fate had decreed that this was the real reason she had been created from light waves and isometric projections.

She touched her comm badge. "Sek to Captain Janeway," she said.

"Janeway here," came the immediate response.

"Captain, I need to speak with you," Sek requested. "Would it be possible to confer with you this morning?"

Janeway hesitated, probably going over her schedule for the day.

"Not this morning," the captain remarked finally. "Why not stop by my ready room immediately after lunch? I can see you then. 0100 hours."

"Thank you, Captain," Sek agreed. "That would be fine." She cut the communication and headed for sickbay.

If this turned out as she hoped, she would have need of a counselor's office and it would be helpful to see how quickly Maintenance could construct one. Captain Janeway meticulously filed the last departmental report into her console and wondered if she would have this much busywork if she were back in the Alpha Quadrant? She decided that she would, she just probably wouldn't be granting it this much personal attention. She was aware that her commitment to the routine paperwork faced by Starfleet captains was merely a symptom of her hanging onto a sense of normalcy out here in the Delta Quadrant. Striving to have every file finished and properly submitted for Starfleet granted her a sense of being in control. Indeed, it was a matter of considerable pride to her that the logs Voyager transmitted back to the Federation had included every report required, complete to that very stardate. It would go a long way in showing that she had adhered to exacting standards as the ship returned home.

And since that communication, the Federation and Earth seemed to be closer than ever before. Though it might not make sense, she had a gut feeling that they would be returning soon, even as she allowed that it might just be the leftover euphoria of hearing directly from Starfleet Command.

Then there was also the knowledge that having everything shipshape might turn out to be important in the event that Starfleet Command took a long, hard look at any incidents where she hadn't been able to go by the book. She always remembered what Boothby had told her while she had been at the Academy. That one day, she would have to defy orders or go against protocol ... every commander did ... but the only way she would be able to justify it was to show that in all other ways, she had been the complete Starfleet officer. She could almost see him now, the San Francisco sunshine streaming down on the carefully manicured lawns of Starfleet Academy, the gnarled figure of the elderly man bent over his flower beds.

"Katie, always make sure you do the little things correct," he said, as he dug into the rich earth lining the pebbled path. "And you'll get away with screwing around with the big things every time. Otherwise, you won't have a leg to stand on when you're justifying a command decision to a Board of Inquiry." He looked up briefly, his pale blue eyes keen in the leathery face as he waved his trowel for emphasis. "Your adherence to duty in the past has to be as immaculate as possible, because there will come a day when that's all you'll have left to offer in defense."

She had taken that lesson to heart and hoped that her attention to protocol on Voyager would be enough to see her through to any board that might question her actions in the Delta Quadrant. She grinned with wry humor. In fact, it might be the only thing that could save her in the end, considering some of the things she had done out here in the final frontier. She wondered if any of them had been what Boothby had in mind?

She lifted her eyes as the chime to her door sounded. "Enter," she said, raising an eyebrow. A quick check of the chronometer told her who it should be and she was unsurprised when the tall, slender figure of Lt. Ro Laren entered the ready room.

The Bajoran woman was in her mid-thirties, tempered like a blade in the most searing of heat, her eyes dark and shuttered, hiding her personality from casual inspection. But if one dared to look very close, one could see the fire that burned within and Janeway was always aware that she had to handle this officer with care. For a great many people, she wouldn't bother, but the potential in the woman was not the sort of thing that Janeway liked to see wasted, particularly out here in the Delta Quadrant where they could not afford to throw away anything.

Of course, she recognized that she was not the first Starfleet captain to think Ro Laren had promise. Jean-Luc Picard of the USS Enterprise had made the Bajoran a personal project and must have considered that project a failure when she deserted Starfleet to join the Maquis. Janeway had no intention of repeating his mistakes, either by taking Ro's loyalty for granted, or by trying to push her before she was ready. The captain also hoped that the older, more experienced Bajoran lieutenant would be easier to reach than the hot-headed, young ensign revealed in the Bajoran's personnel records.

"Lieutenant," Janeway said, standing up. "Please, join me."

She skirted the desk and crossed in front of the younger woman, mounting the short flight of stairs and going to the sofa which was set beneath looming windows. The passing stars, distorted by the warp field, made an imposing backdrop as the captain took a seat.

"Would you like some tea?" she added, picking up the elegantly appointed teapot. "Or perhaps, coffee?"

"No, thank you, Captain," Ro responded shortly, linking her hands behind her back.

"Please, sit down," Janeway said, in an even tone which made it an order rather than a request. She replaced the teapot and picked up the silvery cylinder which was also sitting on the sterling tray.

Ro blinked, then inclined her head, sitting down in the chair which was offset to the sofa. She remained forward in the seat, hands folded neatly on her lap, body tense as if ready to take flight at an instant's notice.

Janeway stifled a smile and poured herself some coffee from her thermos, then leaned back against the sofa cushions as she sipped it quietly, waiting. Sure enough, after a moment, Ro began to twitch slightly.

"Captain?"

"Yes, Lieutenant?" Janeway responded politely.

"Did you wish to see me about something specific?"

Janeway gave every indication of considering the question carefully. "Actually, I did," she said finally. "But I'm also taking a moment to appreciate my coffee. Seven's version is quite remarkable. When I drink it, I always am keenly aware of the first five years when I had to live with the replicator issue or worse, Neelix's version."

Ro regarded her evenly, and almost, but not quite, sighed. "Permission to ask if this has a point, ma'am?" she requested carefully.

Janeway smiled. "Just the fact that nothing remains the same, and very often, circumstances can improve if the right things fall into place," she said. She eyed Ro narrowly. "What about you, Lieutenant? Do you feel that things are falling into place with you since you revealed your true identity?"

Ro seemed vaguely surprised by the question.

"I ... believe so, Captain," she said. She hesitated. "Certainly, you have treated me more than fairly considering ... ah, everything that's involved. I appreciate the chance you've given me to resume my role as a Starfleet officer."

"And I haven't been disappointed," Janeway said quietly. "Which is why I think it's time that things progressed a little."

"Captain?"

"I want to transfer you to operations," Janeway said. "Place you on the track for an eventual command of your own."

Whatever Ro had been expecting, it hadn't been this and the captain could see that she had rocked her. The Bajoran blinked and took a slow breath.

"I'm ... surprised," she admitted. "Even after we spoke ... I never really considered it. Not seriously."

"It's time you did," Janeway said, firming her tone. "The fact is, you've gone as far as you can in security. Obviously if things had ... worked out a little differently with Tuvok, you might have ended up as my chief of security. As it stands, however, your qualifications remain the same and as one of the few, truly experienced Starfleet senior officers I have, I can't afford to have you being monopolized by the security department any longer." She paused. "I want you to begin training under Chakotay."

Once more, Ro was shook.

"Captain?"

"Oh, don't get me wrong," Janeway said casually. "You'll probably never be Voyager's first officer, but certainly, with our return to the Alpha Quadrant becoming more likely every day, I want you to be capable of assuming the role for another captain. I believe you deserve that chance. The question is, are you ready to accept that responsibility?"

Ro stared at her for a long moment, then looked away.

"Can I think about it?" she asked coolly, though the captain thought she could pick up a bit of uncertainty underneath. "Ask Chakotay some questions about what exactly might be involved?"

Janeway had expected that. Unlike a lot of less experienced crewmembers who would jump at the promotion before knowing all that came with it, Ro would find out as much as she could before she made her decision. It was a mark of a good officer at this stage of Ro's career and had she not made the request, Janeway would have been not only surprised, but a little disappointed in Ro's awareness of what was being asked of her.

"Of course," the captain said. "I'll be glad to answer any questions you might have, myself. However, I do not want to be too long about this change in crew structure. I expect a response by this time next week."

"Understood, Captain," Ro said respectfully. She stood up. "If that's all?"

Janeway dipped her head. "Dismissed," she said. Her eyes followed Ro's graceful form as she strode briskly from the ready room and she sipped her coffee. She wasn't sure how things would work out with the rigidly controlled, yet volatile, woman, but she hoped that she would be able to guide her to a better path, just as she had guided so many others.

Your problem, Katie, is that you always need a project, her little voice remarked ruefully. First Tom, then B'Elanna, then Seven and now Ro. You just like meddling in other people's lives.

Janeway couldn't deny it. In fact, there was a certain part of her that took pride in it, believing it to be a crucial part of being a good Starfleet captain. It wasn't enough to merely lead, she decided, she wanted to make a real difference, even if that meant getting involved personally with crewmembers. She did have the presence of mind to realize that she had been fortunate in her past successes so far. Tom Paris, a bitter convict drafted into helping Starfleet go after his Maquis conspirators, had recaptured his self-esteem and pride in his capabilities as a Starfleet officer. B'Elanna Torres, a Starfleet Academy dropout and adrift soul, had blossomed as Chief of Engineering under Janeway's command, being able to finally challenge and test her vast talents to the ultimate limit. And Seven ... well, truthfully Seven had turned out to be far more than even the captain had expected; in the end, teaching Janeway far more about her own Humanity than what she had hoped to teach her, but the captain certainly couldn't complain about the outcome.

The captain smiled faintly to herself, trusting that Ro would prove an equal success. Janeway relied absolutely on her instincts when it came to judging character, and they had never let her down before. She did not think that it was possible for a person to change into something they simply weren't, but if an individual already had the internal foundation, then the positive character traits could be nurtured into blossoming, overcoming any negative experiences which might have served to repress an individual's potential.

Swallowing the last of her coffee, Janeway stood up and carried her dirty cup over to the replicator which dematerialized it and returned it, bright and spotless. She placed the now clean china on the sterling silver tray and returned to the lower level and her desk, resuming the next round of paperwork until lunch interrupted her a second time. The next scheduled appointment was at the tail end of her lunch break and she wiped her mouth with a napkin as she heard the soft chime from her door.

"Come in," she said, carrying her dirty dishes to the recycler and depositing them inside.

She turned around to greet Sek and it struck her suddenly, how much the hologram was once more looking like Kes. She hadn't even noticed the gradual alteration in the young female's appearance until now and she was puzzled as to why she hadn't.

"Sek, please, have a seat," she said, gesturing to the chair. "What can I do for you?"

The diminutive hologram politely took a seat in the chair where Ro had sat hours earlier, folding her hands in her lap in a similar fashion to the Bajoran. However, unlike Ro's rigid body language, Sek was relaxed, leaning back against the cushions, patient in her attention to the captain. Janeway knew she would never be able to make the hologram twitch the way she could Ro and she smiled secretly to herself as she sat down on the sofa.

"Captain, I am here regarding Phase II of my studies," Sek remarked in her melodic voice. "At this stage, I would be participating in several case studies under the supervision of my mentor master psychologists."

"I see," Janeway said, nodding as she gave the young woman her full attention. She had gone over the various stages of Sek's curriculum with the Doctor, making sure that there would be no repeat of the incident he had been involved in. "You're progressing very quickly. I'm quite pleased."

"Thank you, Captain," she replied politely. "As you know, were this the Alpha Quadrant, I would be using live case studies and it was only decided to go with the simulated option here on Voyager, because of the lack of viable patients."

Janeway eyed her keenly, studying the hologram's face. "That's changed," she guessed.

Sek nodded. "A crewmember came to me today, requesting my services in a professional capacity," she revealed. "While it is a case that could be delayed for a month until I complete Phase II, there is also the possibility that it might do harm to the patient to make them wait. And I am aware that, at this time, the crew is sharply reminded of home, yet we are really no closer to the Federation than we were before we received the communication. That is bound to start sinking in, with all the natural repercussions. I would like to be available to the crew when that happens in a full counselor capacity. I conferred with the masters, and they agreed that I should accept this case. However, I would require your permission to accelerate my training in this manner."

"I see," Janeway said, leaning back against the cushions as she considered this seriously. "I would also need to clear this with the Doctor who is your immediate supervisor. Who's the crewmember?"

Sek stared at her unflinchingly. "I can't tell you that, Captain," she said. "It would be a violation of the Doctor/Patient confidentiality that I will not violate in this instance."

Janeway returned the stare, wondering if it had been Ensign White who had requested Sek's help. But she acknowledged that Sek was well within her prerogative not to tell her since the captain really didn't have the right to know unless a threat of some kind was posed to another crewmember or to the ship itself. She would just have to content herself with private speculation.

"Very well," she allowed graciously. She tapped her comm badge. "Janeway to sickbay," she said. "Doctor, I require your presence in my ready room immediately."

"On my way," came the immediate and brief response.

Janeway had barely closed the channel before the Doctor abruptly materialized in the room, his sparse, trim figure appearing in a haze of sparkles.

"Please state the nature of the medical emergency," he said and Janeway realized that she should have mentioned this was an administrative request and not a medical one. He would have used the traditional method of walking to her ready room then, rather than use an emergency site-to-site transport.

She held up a hand, calming him. "It's about Sek's progress to become our ship's counselor," she said. "I need to consult with you about this." She explained the circumstances to him and he listened closely. She knew he had been against this in the beginning, but had since come to support Sek's intent and Janeway believed he would be able to give a fair and unbiased opinion. The care and well-being of the ship's crew was of primary importance to his programming ... as it was in Sek's matrix.

"I don't see any problem, Captain," he decided finally. "As Sek said, if this were the Alpha Quadrant, she would be dealing with real patients under the supervision of her mentors in this phase. This is really no different. And if someone has asked for her assistance, it's obviously because they truly require it. It's hard to ask for such help."

Janeway nodded. "Fine," she said. "I'm more than willing to accede to your expertise on this." She smiled warmly at Sek. "Go ahead with your patient. I'll log my authorization immediately."

"Thank you, Captain," Sek responded. "I'll inform the crewmember in question and with any luck, we'll be able to hold an opening session this afternoon." B'Elanna Torres, chief engineer of Voyager and its only Klingon crewmember, raked her fingers through her dark, wavy hair as she returned to her living quarters on deck nine. It had been a busy day in engineering and she was looking forward to getting something to eat and settling down for the evening. Possibly, she would even utilize some of her hard-earned replicator rations and stay in, rather than make the journey to the messhall. The room was dimly illuminated as she entered and she didn't bother to bring the lights up, able to easily navigate her way about the familiar surroundings.

She peeled off her uniform tunic and tossed it onto the bed, along with her sweater, leaving her in a brief tank top, her muscular arms bare as she strolled into the ensuite to wash her hands and face. The door chime greeted her as she finished and B'Elanna stifled a sigh as she went to answer it.

Ro Laren stood in the entrance and with a wordless gesture, B'Elanna motioned the Bajoran in. The two women were involved in a romantic relationship, one that had hit a snag in recent weeks and lately, the pair had been carefully and somewhat painfully rebuilding a functioning interaction. For the most part, they were overly polite and some of the ease with which they had once talked to each other, had been lost. But both desperately wanted to rediscover the passion they had once shared ... or at least, B'Elanna knew she did ... so they continued to see each other on a regular basis, hoping that they would once more find a way back to where they had been before the incident involving Tuvok's Pon farr. They had yet to resume any intimate interaction, however.

Despite her best effort, B'Elanna had a hard time reconciling Ro mating with Tuvok to save his life. Ro, in contrast, could not really understand the Klingon's objection to it, as hard as she tried and while she was regretful that B'Elanna had been hurt by it, her empathy had rapidly reached its limit. Now, they simply tried not to talk about it very much, feeling as if they had completely exhausted the topic for the entire rest of their lives. B'Elanna realized that she was probably being irrational about it to a certain extent, but remained unable to come to terms with it. She had avoided the Vulcan chief of security like the plague whenever possible for the past month, unable to look at him in staff meetings, feeling a burning sense of jealousy and rage whenever she thought about Ro being with him, regardless of the circumstances.

"Hi" she said, forcing back the dull anger that rose within her, knowing it was an old friend that did not need to be introduced every time the two women were together. "What's up?"

"I'm sorry to bother you," Ro said quietly. "I wanted to talk to you about something, if you have time."

B'Elanna regarded the Bajoran for a moment, then spread her hands. "Sure," she said softly. "Have a seat."

She gestured toward the glass table in the corner and the two women settled down opposite each other. The Klingon observed the Bajoran closely, noting that Ro seemed quite tense, as if she wanted to spring to her feet and pace about the room. B'Elanna had a sudden qualm that perhaps Ro had decided that things just weren't going to work out for them after all, and was about to tell her that they'd be better off ending it.

That caused an intensely sick feeling to rise within the young woman. The thought of being without Ro was like a dagger stabbing into her heart, no matter how much she wanted to hang onto her sense of betrayal like some flawed treasure.

"The captain called me into her ready room this morning," Ro said, completely forestalling the panic attack B'Elanna was busily working on. "She wants to transfer me from security to command operations."

B'Elanna raised an eyebrow. "That's really good news," she said, managing some honest enthusiasm. Even though she had never managed to graduate from the Academy, she knew what that meant in terms of career for the Bajoran. "Are you going to accept?"

Ro frowned. "I don't know," she responded. "It's a major promotion, yet at the same time, because of the situation Voyager is in, it may just be a lot more responsibility and extra duty for a pip that might not be worth the time or trouble. I mean, Janeway can grant me all the promotions she wants, but that's not to say any of it would be applicable back in the Alpha Quadrant. Hell, as it stands, I'm probably looking at a full court martial for desertion waiting for me. Plus, I like working in security ... it's what I've trained for. I'm comfortable there."

B'Elanna considered that. "So, are there any advantages?" she asked, trying it from another angle.

Ro shrugged. "The extra duty might earn enough credit with Starfleet Command to lessen their inevitable court martial charges for me," she said reasonably. "It would be more challenging than what I'm doing now ... learning something new always is. I also owe Janeway for what she's done for me and if this is where she thinks I'll work best, then I should, at the very least, give it a try for her sake, if not mine." She leaned back in her chair, obviously forcing herself to relax, or at least, look less rigid and tense. "It means working closely with Chakotay, though."

"Chakotay's a great teacher," B'Elanna assured her. "You'll learn a lot from him."

Ro stared at her blankly for a moment, then shook her head, offering a short bark of humorless laughter. "Maybe," she said, and B'Elanna frowned, trying to figure out what the Bajoran had against Voyager's first officer.

"So," the engineer offered tentatively, "do you want to stay? We can talk about this some more over dinner."

Ro hesitated. "All right," she said. "Do you want to pick something up in the messhall and bring it back here?"

"Let's stay in," B'Elanna suggested hopefully. "That's what I was planning before you showed up anyway. My treat."

Ro nodded. "That sounds ... like a good idea," she said. She took a breath and studied her hands on the tabletop intently.

B'Elanna moved over to the replicator, acutely aware of the awkwardness between them now and regretting it profoundly. She just didn't know how to bridge it. The whole communication aspect of a relationship seemed so easy for other couples but it was extremely difficult for her, not only with this enigmatic Bajoran, but in the Klingon's previous relationships with Tom Paris and Chakotay. In fact, B'Elanna thought morosely, she was able to talk with Tom far easier now that they weren't together, than she had ever managed when they were.

She glanced back over her shoulder. "Any preferences?" she asked.

Ro shook her head mutely and B'Elanna keyed in a program for some Bajoran hasperat, knowing it was the security officer's favorite. She programmed herself some pasta prima vera and brought both plates back to the table along with two glasses of red wine. Ro glanced at her when the food was placed before her.

"Thank you," she said with sincerity and what seemed a little surprise. "It looks great."

"Well, if you do accept the promotion, then this is a bit of a celebration, isn't it?" B'Elanna said, lighting some candles to give some ambiance to the meal.

Ro tilted her head, her dark eyes going thoughtful. "I suppose it is," she agreed.

B'Elanna sat down, and proceeded to pick at her pasta, neither speaking as the meal progressed. Finally, she dropped the fork on the plate and folded her hands, resting her elbows on the table.

"I hate this," she said flatly, staring at the woman across from her.

Ro looked at her, not bothering to ask what she was talking about. After all, there was only one thing that had been occupying both of their attentions lately. She toyed with her hasperat, running her fork through it.

"I know," she said sadly. "I do, too. But I can't undo what's been done, Lanna, nor would I if I had the chance. But I do wish there was a way to have accomplished it so that you could understand why it had to be done and how it has nothing to do with us. I don't know what else to say or do to make that clear to you."

B'Elanna took a breath, controlling her anger with an effort. They had gone over all this before, in varied ways and the worst part was, she fully understood what had happened as well as the need for it. She just didn't understand why she continued to be so angry about it.

"You know," Ro tried again, tentatively. "I hear Sek has become the ship's counselor and is already taking crewmembers on as patients. Maybe talking to her..."

"You think counseling is the answer?" B'Elanna responded, immediately outraged that the security officer thought so little of her mental state, as if she were the one at fault here, as if she was the one who had gone behind Ro's back and...

"Well, our talking about it isn't getting us anywhere," Ro responded evenly, interrupting the head of steam the Klingon was working herself into. The Bajoran didn't even seem aware of her companion's rising temper. "Maybe if we talked to her instead of each other, we could..."

B'Elanna held up a hand. "Wait," she said, deflating like a balloon. "You mean you want us to see her together?"

"Sure," Ro said, staring at her blankly, obviously not understanding her objection. "Why not?"

Not for the first time, B'Elanna was reminded of the fact that she and the Bajoran approached things completely differently. That indeed, their very thought processes were completely at right angles.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, the apology coming difficult to her. "I thought you were implying that I was the one that needed therapy."

Ro blinked. "No," she said, almost but not quite sighing. "I'm not saying that, at all. I just think we both need a little objective help if we want to find a way to work through this. Sek would be a good choice, not to mention the confidentiality aspect of it." She paused, poking at her food without appetite. "You still want us to be together, don't you?" she asked uncertainly. "I mean, this is still worth pursuing to you, right?"

"Yeah," B'Elanna said, relief sharp within her. "It is. More than anything."

"Then maybe she can help," Ro said. "I mean, at this point, it certainly couldn't hurt." She regarded B'Elanna with dark eyes. "I know that we can't go on like this. It shouldn't have to hurt this much to be in each other's company."

"It shouldn't," B'Elanna agreed, swallowing hard. "I only know that it hurts worse when I'm not with you, however," she said carefully. "Being without you is like acid in a wound."

"I know," Ro allowed softly. "If there was nothing between us worth fighting for, then it would be easy to walk away. But on my part, at least, I want to see if we can figure this out. Just so we don't look back years down the road and think, 'if only'."

"I feel the same," B'Elanna said, looking at her steadily.

The moment stretched on, both women lost in the eye contact, before, with an effort, B'Elanna broke it. "So," she said briskly, resuming her meal. "Do you want me to make the appointment?"

"I will," Ro said. "Tomorrow after our duty shifts, all right?"

"I should be able to get away," the engineer agreed. That settled, she returned to the original discussion which had brought Ro here in the first place. "Why do you think the captain is so anxious to promote you now? Do you think she believes we'll be suddenly returning home or something?"

Ro broke a piece of bread, holding the fluffy mass in her fingers as the butter spread on it melted. "I don't know," she allowed, obviously giving it some thought. "Certainly, if we're going to be in steady contact with Starfleet now, the odds of us getting back in a timely fashion have improved. After all, we can send any ideas we have to them and they can work them out with resources we simply don't have, not to mention the fact that they'll probably be able to come up with ideas that we might not have considered."

"But what if they don't?" B'Elanna asked pessimistically. "What if, after all this, it still takes decades to return to the Alpha Quadrant?"

Ro eyed her sardonically as she ate her bread. "I wouldn't bring that idea with too many of the crew at the moment," she suggested gently. "No one's choosing to remember that yet."

B'Elanna exhaled. "Yeah," she said ruefully, acknowledging the point. "Everyone's really excited, as if this suddenly shortened the distance between us, rather than just pointing out how far away we still are from the Federation."

Ro raised an eyebrow. "You don't think that euphoria will last?" she asked dryly, as if already knowing the answer.

"It's going to take the same amount of time to get to the Federation that it was before the communiqué," B'Elanna pointed out. "And I think the whole crew had kind of settled into the thought of it taking years unless we had some kind of breakthrough with the slipstream drive or the transwarp coil projects. Especially after the new babies arrived.  I mean, those kids were going to be adults by the time we got back to Earth on our present course. Now, the comfort zone the crew has managed has been completely disrupted and the desire to go home will be constantly present, particularly if we continue to get regular messages from home."

"Discontent will set in," Ro agreed. "Astute call." She took another bite of her hasperat. "What about you? You don't seem to be that excited about it one way or the other."

B'Elanna shrugged. "I guess I'm not," she said. "I mean, assuming we do get home in a timely fashion, the best case scenario has the Maquis being pardoned and me allowed to stay in Starfleet as an engineer. So that's something to go home for. But the worst case is like yours; arrest and probably imprisonment for actions I took as a member of the Maquis. I'm better off here in the Delta Quadrant."

Ro dropped her fork as if she had lost her appetite. "I hadn't thought..." she started. She swallowed. "I knew I would probably be in trouble, but I never realized you might be at risk. I figured Janeway would turn cartwheels to keep one of the best engineers on her ship, but now that I think about it, there's really no guarantee she'll be able to keep her command, herself."

B'Elanna bowed her head. "You know, even if you and I both ended up in prison, we wouldn't be in the same one," she added dismally.

"No, I'd be transferred to the Starfleet facility for Bajorans, probably on Jaros II again," Ro allowed glumly. "And you would most likely be in the civilian facility on Earth."

"In New Zealand, where Paris was incarcerated," B'Elanna agreed, eyes dark. "We could both be looking at years."

They sat in silence, heads bowed, then, despite herself, B'Elanna started to laugh, realizing the absurdity of worrying about something that could still be twenty years away.

"Do I know how to provide dinner entertainment or what?" she explained as Ro looked at her blankly. Then, the Bajoran smiled, and finally, she started to laugh as well. Before long, they were both laughing so hard, they could barely remain in their seats and the more they tried to stop, the harder they laughed. Ro was bent over, her arms around her ribs as if to ease their aching while B'Elanna whooped and gasped and wondered how the couple could manage to find such humor when it seemed like things were as bad as they could get for them.

It never occurred to her that perhaps such an ability to laugh together could be something they could build on ... if only they would recognize it. Seven of Nine woke, blinking as she realized the lights had already come up to signify morning watch. She sat up and looked around uncertainly, frowning as Janeway came out of the ensuite. The captain was fully dressed in her uniform and was affixing her comm badge to her left breast. She stopped as she saw Seven and smiled.

"Good morning, love," she said, her eyes warm. "Are you going to get up today?"

"What time is it?" Seven asked, considerably disconcerted.

"0610," Janeway replied, coming over to perch on the edge of the bed. She kissed Seven gently on the mouth, cupping the Borg's cheek in the palm of her hand. "You slept almost ten hours."

Seven inhaled slowly. "The last thing I remember is our making love before dinner," she said, thinking back to the night before. She could not remember ever sleeping through the morning call by the computer before. Not on a regular duty shift rotation, at least.

"You fell asleep immediately after we ... ah, finished," Janeway said dryly, "I'm beginning to think there's a definite correlation between our making love and your ability to sleep." She grinned slyly, running her hand lightly up and down Seven's leg through the blankets. "I may have my work cut out for me in the future as I help make sure you get enough ... sleep."

Seven blushed faintly at the tone in her partner's voice even as it filled her with anticipation. "I have not slept for such long periods of time before," she admitted. "Yet I believe that I am benefiting from it."

The captain sobered. "I'm so glad, darling," Janeway told her sincerely, squeezing the Borg's knee. "To be perfectly honest, I was beginning to worry. Obviously you've been operating with a 'sleep-debt' for a while and only now, are you starting to catch up on it." She reached over and poked Seven in the stomach with her forefinger. "However, you also better haul your lazy butt out of bed or you'll be late."

It had been some time since the captain had bantered with her in this playful manner, perhaps believing that Seven would not have been able to accept that sort of interaction recently. The Borg decided that the captain must now feel that Seven was once again able to participate fully in this give-and-take of humor, and it warmed her heart. Apparently, the sessions Sek was providing Seven had somehow altered the young woman's general attitude, enabling the captain to perceive her partner differently than she had in the past month. Seven considered that an acceptable signpost on her path to recovery.

Seven abruptly reached out and pulled the captain into her arms, tickling her lightly. "You are teasing me," she accused, but with pleasure as Janeway collapsed on top of her.

Janeway laughed and squirmed, trying to escape her partner's fingers. "I am," she admitted readily, "but maybe I shouldn't have. I had forgotten how you get even." She captured the Borg's hands firmly, kissing Seven once more, then drew away with a bit of reluctance. "What would you like for breakfast this morning? It's my turn to cook."

The two women had, over the course of their marriage, settled into an alternating pattern in making breakfast, though dinner was still primarily the purview of Seven who cooked ten or fifteen times to every one turn taken by the captain. The understanding for breakfast was that whoever was cooking had the right to program their favorite meal without objections and because it cost less replicator rations to program two servings of the same dish than it did to program two separate and distinct meals, they usually both ate the same thing every morning.

Seven considered it. "Oatmeal," she said, knowing that Janeway absolutely detested the cereal. "With cinnamon and raisins."

Janeway hesitated. She had deferred the choice to her partner, after all. "Wouldn't you rather have a western omelet?" she asked, so wistfully that Seven could not maintain her impassiveness.

"Yes, Kathryn," she said, smiling impishly. "An omelet would be acceptable."

Janeway returned the smile, obviously realizing that she'd been had by the Borg. "Good choice," she said wryly, poking the young woman in the ribs again with her thumb before getting up. She gazed down at her partner fondly. "You go get ready for your duty shift and I'll have them on the table by the time you're done."

"Yes, Kathryn," Seven replied obediently and rolled out of bed. She stretched luxuriously and noticed that the captain had paused in the doorway to look back appreciatively. "Yes?" she invited, eyeing her partner archly.

"Only that ... I think I'll enjoy helping you go to sleep tonight," Janeway replied huskily. "And if I had more time this morning, I'd be more than pleased to help you go back to sleep right now."

"Perhaps I shall stop by your ready room, this afternoon," Seven offered, quirking an eyebrow. "For a 'nap'."

Janeway laughed again, her eyes bright and blue. "You'd better not," she said. "I have a lot to go over with Chakotay today. In fact, I might be late finishing up this evening." She waved at her. "Go get ready for duty."

Seven smiled and went into the ensuite where she showered quickly and drew on her blue-and-grey biometrics outfit. Putting her hair up, she returned to the living area where Janeway was placing breakfast on the table. Jake, the couple's Irish Setter, was busily consuming his own breakfast, which was automatically dispensed by a device, but he did pause briefly to look up at her, wagging his tail. Seven petted him, then moved over to the kitchenette counter where she quickly shoveled the proper mixture of coffee beans and the extra secret ingredient ... the key to Phoebe Janeway's special blend ... into the coffee maker, and set it to perk so that it would be ready by the time Janeway left for the bridge. She dropped a kiss on the back of the captain's neck before taking her seat, smiling as she started in on her meal, feeling that just maybe, things were starting to return to some semblance of normalcy.

"Is there anything interesting in the logs?" she asked her partner, who was perusing her work padd which, like every morning, had been set to automatically download the ship's logs throughout the beta and gamma shifts from the night before. It was a good way for the captain to update herself before she began her shift, normally reading it over breakfast which made for fairly quiet meals in the morning, but productive ones.

Janeway sipped her juice and shook her head. "No," she said. "Pretty quiet evening apparently. I guess everyone was tired." She flashed her blue-grey eyes at her partner and smiled. "Some even went to sleep before dinner."

"You are just annoyed because you had to make your own meal last night," Seven responded placidly.

Janeway grinned. "Well, you know what a hardship that is on me," she responded, waving the padd at her for emphasis. "A good wife would have taken care of that before jumping on me as soon as I walked through the door."

"I shall remember that in the future," Seven noted sagely. "Your limitations around a replicator is something no one should endure, particularly the woman I love."

Janeway laughed and held up her hand, obviously surrendering this round. "Would you like to have lunch with me, darling?" she said, changing the subject. "I should be free at 1300."

"I will make a point of being free as well," Seven promised, even though she knew it would require a certain amount of negotiating with Jennifer Delaney to cover astrometrics. But the inflection in the captain's voice and the color of her eyes let the Borg know it was not an idle request on Janeway's part, but rather, a sincere desire to be with her spouse. She tried never to reject those sorts of requests. "Where?"

"I'll have Neelix make up a picnic basket," Janeway said. "It's been awhile. Meet me in the arboretum."

Pleased by the suggestion, Seven smiled at her. "I shall be there," she said. She raised an eyebrow. "It is fortunate that the biometrics department did not think to add Formicinae Camponotus to the environment."

Janeway paused, no doubt tracking down the biological reference from her memories, then grinned as she finally pinpointed the proper meaning of the terms. "No, we wouldn't need ants," she said with warm humor. "Even if it is a picnic."

They finished breakfast, then returned to the ensuite to complete their morning routine. They kissed farewell at the door, a bit more lingeringly than was normal for the average work day, before finally breaking apart to head for the turbolift, Janeway taking the first car to the bridge while Seven waited for the next one to take her down to astrometrics.

At 1300 hours, Seven decided that she wanted her entire family unit together for lunch and went up to deck three to retrieve Jake from their quarters, before descending to deck eight where the transformed cargo bay two was situated. The couple's pet could not be more pleased to be accompanying his mistress and when he saw the captain setting up a picnic blanket under some trees, he was in absolute doggy heaven. Janeway patted him lavishly, praised him for being a good dog, then sent him off with a few crewmembers who were delighted to spend their park time throwing a ball for the amiable animal.

"I'm glad you brought him," Janeway said as Seven sank to the blanket beside her.

Seven inhaled the fresh air scented with growing things and earth, drawing it deep into herself. "I have been neglecting him lately, as well," she said. Her eyes became thoughtful. "I think that being depressed is a particularly selfish state of mind."

"Perhaps," Janeway agreed as she set out the various containers from the wicker picnic basket next to her. "But when you're unable to take emotional comfort from anyone or anything else, including yourself, it's impossible to give anything emotional in return. Even with pets."

"His love is so unconditional," Seven said, her eyes following the red flash of the dog as he dashed across the lawns. "He gives it so willingly and takes nothing in return."

Janeway followed her gaze. "True," she said thoughtfully. "But he looks to us for attention and food. He probably thinks it's a more than fair exchange." She turned back to Seven and smiled. "So how was your morning?"

Seven considered the question. "Efficient," she said. "But time seems to move slowly today. I really would like to take a 'nap' this afternoon."

The captain's smile widened as she filled her plate from the various containers. "Sorry, darling," she said, honest regret coloring her tone. "But I'll probably be busy well into the beta shift, which is why I'm taking this long lunch break with you. Not to mention the fact that I wanted to make sure you have lunch. You need to catch up on your meals as well as your sleep."

"Is there a time limit in my recovery when you will cease being so concerned about my health?" Seven asked curiously.

Janeway quirked an eyebrow. "I'm sure there is," she responded mildly. "Approximately the same time you stop commenting on my eating and sleeping habits."

Seven realized that since she had no intention of ever stopping the tender, loving care she gave Janeway, this was to be a life-long exchange between them. But perhaps that was also fair, she decided. There would be times when Janeway would require as much consideration as she had given Seven in the past month and the Borg wanted to be able to provide it. And more importantly, for Janeway to be able to accept it. Perhaps that was even what made their marriage work ... this equitable give and take between them. Seven was trying hard to understand that, even though she still felt quite guilty about demanding so much of Janeway's time and attention recently.

Ignoring the presence of other crewmembers wandering about the park, she leaned over and kissed Janeway soundly on the cheek.

"I love you," she told her with utter sincerity.

The blue-grey eyes sparkled. "I adore you, my darling," the captain replied, not seeming surprised or dismayed by the public display of affection. "Always."

They leisurely consumed the two types of salad and squares of sandwiches Neelix had prepared, all washed down with fruit juice. Cheese and grapes rounded out the meal and after they had gathered up the empty containers and replaced them in the picnic basket, Janeway leaned back against the trunk of the tree, patting her stomach.

"A nap doesn't sound too bad, right now," she admitted lazily. "A real nap, I mean."

"Your sleep has been interrupted often lately, as well," Seven agreed quietly. She was sitting cross-legged a few feet away, regarding her spouse steadily, wanting her with every fiber of her being. The very way Janeway looked in her captain's uniform was sometimes all that Seven required to be aroused and while she was a little surprised by the strength of it at the moment, it was not an unfamiliar sensation.

"Darling," the captain murmured. "If you don't stop looking at me like that, someone's bound to notice."

Janeway's eyes were lidded, half closed and her head was not even turned in the young woman's direction but Seven had learned not to underestimate her spouse's awareness. Once more, she was reminded of that.

"Like what?" she asked innocently.

"As if you want to have me for dessert right here, under the tree," Janeway noted.

Seven thought about it. "I do," she said honestly.

The corner of the captain's mouth turned up, a crooked grin ghosting across her lips. "It won't happen," she said warningly. "In such a public place."

"Then perhaps I am required to show you my alcove," Seven offered lightly. "It is only a few meters away ... and very private."

Janeway's lips twitched. "Ah, the Borg equivalent of offering to show me your etchings," she said dryly.

Seven, who knew what etchings were thanks to the brief time spent in daVinci holoprogram, but unfamiliar with what was obviously a saying of sorts, did not respond, waiting patiently for her spouse's decision. The captain did not give much sign she was even contemplating the Borg's suggestion, looking very much as if she were ready to go to sleep. But moisture suddenly beaded on Janeway's upper lip and Seven knew she was considering it very carefully, indeed.

"Very well," Janeway allowed finally, in quite a husky voice, "Perhaps a complete check of your Borg alcove is in order."

Quietly, Seven rose to her feet and reached down, offering a hand to the captain who was pulled to her feet. Together, they drifted over to the room containing the alcoves and as Janeway looked over the park to make sure no one was paying any particular attention to them, Seven accessed the touch-pad and they eased inside. Seven sealed the door behind them, using several encryption codes to enforce the lockout mechanism, then she looked at her spouse who had moved over to the alcoves, standing before them with her arms crossed over her chest as if she were cold.

Frowning faintly, Seven went over and hugged the smaller woman from behind, holding her close. "Is something wrong, Kathryn?" she asked into the delicate, shell-like ear.

Janeway shook her head. "It's silly," she murmured, her eyes fixed on the Borg equipment. "It's just that I haven't really been in here very often since we closed the area off. That one time when I had to find you after the incident with ... when you were hurt, I had other concerns on my mind rather than paying attention to the decor. Today, however, I'm really aware of the atmosphere of this place, how much it feels ... Borg, now."

"Because it has been closed in," Seven remarked. "The confined space resembles a Borg cube more than ever now." She paused and kissed Janeway's temple. "Do you wish to leave?"

Janeway turned in her embrace and looked up with warm eyes, a hint of mischief coloring them. "No," she responded. "After all, making love in a Borg cube has to have its own form of appeal. Certainly, not many people can claim it in their romantic résumé."

"No," Seven agreed wryly. "Not even any Borg. In fact," she added. "I do not believe any entity in the history of the universe has ever coupled in a Borg alcove."

Janeway's grin widened, showing her teeth which gleamed an unnatural white in the humid, greenish illumination. "Then, by all means," she said playfully. "Let us boldly go where no one has gone before, my darling."

She slipped out of Seven's arms and mounted the dais, inserting herself into the cubical, turning around to rest her arms on the two metal braces as she leaned back against the regeneration plate. She had a very challenging, quite territorial expression on her face, almost as if she was claiming this area, just as she had claimed Seven so long ago. Seven wondered if the captain had always looked like that when standing on the dais or if it was just today?

"What are you waiting for?" Janeway prompted huskily.

"Merely contemplating logistics," Seven responded honestly. She stepped up onto the dais herself and eased herself between the metal braces, pressing against Janeway. "Tell me if it becomes uncomfortable."

"Oh, I'll let you know," Janeway promised, wrapping her arms around Seven's waist and raising her face to be kissed which Seven promptly did.

The contrast of the lingering, thoroughly passionate kisses here in the shadows of the alcove, where circuitry and angular construction made harsh lines to counterpoint the wonderful sweet softness of her partner, provided a most intriguing sensation for Seven. She dropped her hands to the captain's buttocks, squeezing provocatively as she pulled Janeway closer to her, absorbing herself completely in the taste and touch of Kathryn. Their breathing deepened as they continued to caress each other, hands roaming freely beneath Starfleet uniform and through biometric mesh, though neither was quite sure about how they were going to accomplish their goal. Of course, both were certainly content to keep up their passionate fondling until one of them figured it out, but several abortive attempts later, usually forestalled by extreme discomfort to various body parts, quickly revealed that making love in a Borg alcove ... like making love on a beach ... was far more exciting in concept than in actuality.

Finally, Janeway threw her head back and groaned loudly.

"Darling, I love you utterly and you can't believe how aroused I am right now, but this just isn't working," she growled huskily. "And it's taking far too long. I need to get back to the bridge."

"I know," Seven said with disappointment as she ceased her attempt to arrange Janeway into a more receptive position, letting go of the captain's thigh, which she had hiked into the air. "Perhaps if we lay on the deck."

The captain laughed and kissed Seven on her nose. "Some things aren't worth that," she said with gentle humor, which was unquestionably underlain with frustration. "Not when you consider that there's a big and very comfortable bed waiting for us after our duty shifts. Besides, my back just wouldn't take that metal mesh and yours shouldn't have to."

"Very well," Seven sighed, releasing her partner and attempting to straighten her outfit as she stepped down from the dais. She helped Janeway tidy her clothes into some semblance of order and then spent ten more minutes looking for a pip before finally finding it beneath the work console where it had rolled. The two women checked each other's appearance one last time, making sure they weren't too disheveled, then slunk out of the room, glad that the door ... and their less-than-triumphant exit ... was partially concealed by high, lush bushes.

"Now we know why no one's ever made love in a Borg alcove," Janeway muttered as they returned to their picnic site and gathered up the basket and blanket. Jake came tearing over to greet them ... if indeed, he had even noticed they had been gone ... and the captain scratched behind his ears. "It's completely impractical."

"It can be done," Seven insisted, her face thoughtful. "I shall simply have to think on it further."

Janeway raised an eyebrow. "If you're really that determined," she said dryly, "I suppose I could be persuaded to make another attempt in the future. Perhaps it's not completely impossible."

Seven shot her a look, then smiled faintly. "Nothing is impossible," she said.

She enfolded her spouse's hand in her own and together, they left the arboretum, Jake gamboling behind them in ecstatic doggy contentment. Janeway and Ro left the ready room, the lieutenant strolling up to the turbolift as the captain took over the command chair. Aware of her first officer regarding her with interest, Janeway inclined her head briefly, letting him know that the Bajoran had accepted the offer she had made to her earlier in the week. He raised an eyebrow and nodded in return, neither pleased nor displeased necessarily, but certainly feeling reservations. However, since he had confided them all earlier to Janeway, there was no need to discuss them now. It was his job to play devil's advocate for her, offering any objections he could think of so that she could approach her decisions with a balanced view. Now that it was settled, he would do whatever he needed to make sure Ro was properly educated as to everything a first officer was required to do.

But he couldn't say he was looking forward to it.

He stood up and with a nod to the captain, he made his way over to the lift where Ro was waiting, an impassive expression on her face. "Lieutenant," he said quietly, with what he hoped was a friendly tone.

"Commander," she responded evenly, with no particular inflection to her voice at all.

He offered her a tentative smile which didn't seem to dent the facade of almost Vulcan-like stoniness on her face and he stifled a sigh as he stared at the doors of the turbolift which had closed behind them, wondering how well this was going to work out. The one thing he hadn't brought up with the captain was the fact that since both officers had been involved with B'Elanna ... Chakotay, shortly before Ro ... the personal chemistry between them might provide a certain amount of antagonism if they weren't careful. On the other hand, he expected that she would be a complete professional, just as he would make every attempt to be, but it was still a little bit of additional baggage, which was only going to make his task a little harder.

Or a lot harder, he thought as he glanced sideways at the woman. He studied her surreptitiously as the lift descended, thinking back over their history, such as it was.

The truth was, he could hardly remember the young woman who had joined his resistance cell so long ago, nor paid much attention to her at the time.  She had been just another Bajoran unwilling to let go of the antagonism toward the Cardassians and aided in her obscurity by keeping to herself, not letting on that she had Starfleet experience under her belt. He had picked up on little hints of it now and again, even mentioning it to B'Elanna on one occasion, but neither Maquis member had pursued it. Now, in retrospect, he remembered incidents that clearly indicated advanced tactical training ... in particular, the ability to pull the wool over his eyes.

He supposed the real problem he was having with her was that she had known from the beginning that Tuvok had been a Federation plant in his resistance cell, and never told him, enabling her to keep her own secret. He didn't think he would ever completely forgive her for that one or ever be able to trust her entirely. He also wondered if he would ever be able to ask her about B'Elanna, then darted another look at her stone-like face and decided that was something he was going to wait a considerable amount of time to bring up, if ever. He would have to know her a lot better before he ever tried that topic of conversation even though every iota of curiosity he possessed wanted to.

But if he timed it just right, then perhaps she wouldn't kill him out of hand. And actually, he decided, perhaps there would be no need for her to become homicidal. After all, he had never been romantically involved with Ro which, given his track record, ought to make him automatically safe with her. She was a very attractive woman, however and had a way of moving that was quite ... intriguing. He wondered why he had never noticed that before?

They stepped off the turbolift and straightening his shoulders, he led her to geophysics and her first lesson. Seven of Nine frowned at her padd as she sat on the sofa in her quarters, studying the revamped specs for the integrity fields of the ship. If Voyager was ever to be able to utilize the modified slipstream drive, her crew would have to find a way to modify the shields so that the ship could survive the buffeting within the slipstream conduit. So far, that breakthrough had defied them, but Seven was sure it was only a matter of time. Perhaps an alternate power source, she considered as she entered some more data. Ironically, even though she had certain reservations about returning to the Alpha Quadrant, she still wanted to be able to solve this problem for Kathryn, as much as she had ever wanted anything in her life.

The door hissed open and she glanced up to see her partner enter, startled at how she let the time get away from her as she realized how late it was. Janeway had been working well into the beta shift the past few evenings, covering for Chakotay who had undertaken a new training project and Seven decided that she was starting to miss her partner being there earlier. She wondered if she should say something, or just be patient for another week or so. After all, Chakotay would not be diverted from his primary duties forever.

"Hello, darling," Janeway greeted, smiling faintly as she came over to where the Borg was sitting. Seven stood up, leaving her padd on the coffee table, and enfolded the smaller woman into her arms. "Did you have a good day?"

"It was a productive afternoon," Seven told her, brushing her lips over the fine line of the captain's left brow. "Lt. Kim has provided new specs for the integrity field emitters which may prove useful in applying to the slipstream project."

Janeway's gaze grew distant. "Sometimes it works that way," she allowed, thoughtfully. "You work on the slipstream drive and come up with ideas which won't work for your experiments, but will work for his restraining field project. In turn, he discovers techniques that may assist you. That's always been the appeal of science to me ... not that you find what you're looking for, but rather that you often discover what you aren't."

Seven nodded. "It is an intriguing phenomenon," she agreed.

"What else happened today?" Janeway asked, changing the subject as she refocused her attention on her partner, her eyes shading to blue.

Seven brightened. "I saw Sek," she explained, remembering what had been quite an interesting session. She did not remember that she had yet to mention she was taking sessions with Sek to her partner ... until after she had spoken. "She has been assisting me with my fears about returning to the Alpha Quadrant and today's session was particularly enlightening."

Janeway blinked, obviously surprised by this and from her expression, not entirely pleased by it. "I see," she said slowly. "I didn't know you were seeing Sek in a professional capacity. Why didn't you talk to me about this?"

"I no longer wish to distract you with concerns that I must learn to deal with on my own, Kathryn," Seven told her soberly. "As captain, you have much to worry about. I do not want to add to that burden."

"Oh, darling," Janeway protested quietly as she tightened her embrace. "You never add to my burden. If anything, you lighten it. Annika, if I've ever given you the impression that I'm the least bit unwilling to listen to you, then please believe me when I say that nothing could be further from the truth. I always want to know what's going on with you, and if you're having any difficulty at all, I need to be aware of it. I'm sorry if I've ever made you feel that I'm not interested in your concerns."

"You have not," Seven told her, rueful that this plan to help ease Janeway's concern for her had instead, seemed to intensify it. "I am merely attempting to find alternate ways to deal with my continued sadness. I know you wish to help me, Kathryn, but my struggles in recent weeks, including my insomnia, has caused your own sleeplessness. It affects your command. That is not anything I wish to be responsible for."

"Darling, I want to be as supportive to you as I can," Janeway said quietly, her eyes grey and intent. "Don't reject that. Please."

Surprised, Seven regarded her more closely. "I am not," she assured her partner slowly, frowning as she tried to fathom why the captain was disturbed by this. "Kathryn, this is not about rejecting you. It is about finding other ways to help myself in difficult times rather than always demanding that you be my sole support."

"But it's an equal exchange, Annika," Janeway argued softly. "There have been many incidents when I've had to rely completely on your love. Remember when I returned from the Barellan prison? Or those nights when you stayed up with me and talked to me when I was feeling particularly low? I needed you to be there for me... and no doubt, will again in the future. It's not a chore for me to be there for you in return, darling. It hurts me to think that I can't help you."

"Yet, you have explained to me many times, the advantages of having an objective viewpoint, Kathryn," Seven explained, head tilted slightly as she looked down into the changeable eyes. "Do we not agree that you are not always objective when it comes to my well-being, just as I am not objective when it comes to yours?" She inhaled slowly, bemused by her partner's disturbance about this. "Kathryn," she added softly, "I did not mean to make you feel as if I didn't need you. I shall always need you. But not even you can help me in every way, especially when you have so much else on your mind. That is why I have gone to Sek. Not to replace your support, but to supplement what you always give to me."

Janeway stared at her partner, then lowered her head, a rueful expression crossing her face. "I guess I just proved your point about not being objective, didn't I? I'm taking this as a personal affront when I should be looking at it as another step in your growth." She paused, then added in a low tone, "Annika, I can appreciate how you would want to explore different ways to deal with personal problems as well as wanting to be more independent. I'm certainly not going to stand in the way of that. But darling, I also want you to know, I'm always going to be here for you. Don't ever think that I'm too busy to listen to you."

"I am aware of that, Kathryn," Seven told her seriously, rubbing her cheek up and down the captain's temple. "I have never doubted your willingness to listen to my problems."

"I'm glad," the captain responded quietly, then sighed softly. "I'm overreacting." She managed a smile. "Wanting to be in control of everything, I guess ... including all your problems." She kissed Seven gently, then rested her forehead against her chin. "Forgive me."

"It is your nature," Seven smiled. "There is nothing to forgive." Carefully, she rubbed the small of the captain's back. "Have you eaten yet?" she added, changing the subject. "I was considering something simple for dinner tonight; rice and chicken, but if your hunger is greater, I can create something more substantial."

Janeway smiled. "No, that sounds fine," she said, hugging the Borg before releasing her. "I should change." She drew away. "But I would like you to tell me over dinner, more about what you and Sek are doing, if you would," she added over her shoulder as she headed for the bedroom.

"Very well," Seven responded agreeably as she moved over to her kitchenette.

The chicken protein was quickly replicated and covered in various spices before being placed in the heating unit to roast. At the replicator, she accessed the basic program for wild rice, and entered in several supplements, including bits of green pepper, mushrooms, and onion. The resulting bowl that materialized emanated a very savory aroma and after taking a quick taste, she decided that she was satisfied with the results.

Janeway came out of the bedroom, dressed in a t-shirt and trousers, and quickly set the table. By the time she was done, the chicken was finished and Seven carried it and the bowl of rice over to the center of the table, using protective mitts to handle the hot dishes.

"It smells delicious," the captain complimented her as they sat down.

"It does," Seven admitted, feeling somewhat surprised by the surge of appetite she felt. She filled her plate with the rice and took the larger piece of chicken. She knew that Janeway had noticed because the smaller woman had a sort of soft, approving expression on her face.

"So," Janeway said, once they were well into the meal, "How long have you been seeing Sek?"

"Almost a week," Seven explained, noting that she had startled Janeway yet again, judging from her expression. "We have our 'sessions' during the last hour of my duty shift. Ironically, we have talked little about the possible contact with the Alpha Quadrant, which was why I went to her initially. Instead, we have extensively discussed all that happened with the 'Mimic' and how I felt about it. Today, she gave me an assignment."

Janeway quirked an eyebrow. "An assignment?" she repeated.

"Yes, similar to those we are given in my Starfleet courses," Seven replied. At the time, the Borg had merely nodded obediently when Sek offered her suggestion but now, Seven wondered about what had been requested of her. "Sek suggested that I find a way to contact my 'inner self' and ask 'her' why she is so angry." She paused. "What does that mean, Kathryn?" she asked, looking at her partner expectantly.

Janeway blinked. "Uh, I don't know, Annika," she replied slowly. She toyed with her rice. "What was it in regard to?"

Seven considered it. "Today, we discussed what the alien had done," she elaborated. "Sek asked me why I was still so angry about it, even now. That I should try to communicate with my inner self and discover what was truly at the root of my anger." She blinked. "I thought I had been very clear about why I was angry. It was because of the actions of the alien," she concluded, rather puzzled.

"Did you ask her to clarify?" Janeway responded evenly.

Seven hesitated. "I thought that you could explain it to me," she admitted readily. What she didn't add was that she rarely liked showing how little she knew about certain things to anyone other than her spouse. She blushed. "I still rely on your experience often, Kathryn."

Janeway stared at her, then smiled a little. "Darling, I'm not very good at delving into my own inner self," she said carefully. "Let alone anyone else's." She paused. "However, it's possible that she means you should try to figure out why what the alien did upset you so much."

"Is it not evident why I should be upset?" Seven asked, astounded.

Janeway nodded. "Yes," she said patiently, obviously searching for the right words. "You have every right to react the way you did, but perhaps Sek just wants you to think about why this particular situation made you so angry and hurt, whereas other, more inherently dangerous and threatening situations have not really bothered you at all. After all, the alien, as we later discovered, was only doing what it had to do in order to survive. It never really intended to hurt you personally." She looked up and caught the expression on her partner's face, holding up a hand to forestall the outburst trembling on Seven's lips. "I'm not justifying anything on the alien's part here, Annika," she added hastily. "I'm just trying to explain Sek's reasoning and maybe I shouldn't. After all, I can't speak for her and it is Sek that you went to for help about this, not me."

Seven nodded and calmed herself. "If she asked you a similar question," she asked. "How would you proceed?"

Janeway put her elbows on the table, steepling her fingers, as she gave that due consideration. "I think," she said thoughtfully, "that I would try to look to the part of myself that was more emotion than intellect, darling. For example, you know about my feelings towards my father. As an adult and as a Starfleet officer, I am fully cognizant of the pressures and demands he had upon him. I completely understand how he had to uphold his duty to both Starfleet and the Federation, particularly during that unstable time with the Cardassians, even at the cost of his family and I can fully appreciate the agony that this caused him. I even had a chance to talk to him about it before he died and make a sort of peace with him. Yet, despite all that, there is still a part of me ... a younger, more childlike part ... that refuses to understand why he left me so often. And that part still hurts and is still bewildered and is still angry in a lot of ways, long after his death. Perhaps it always will, but I try not to let it override all the good things we shared."

"I do not think I understand," Seven said, trying to apply what her partner had said to her own situation and failing utterly.

Janeway sighed. "I know," she said. "So that's why you're going to have to go back to Sek and tell her you can't carry out the assignment until you talk about it further."

Seven didn't like that suggestion at all and it must have showed in her expression because the captain granted her an amused look. "I know you hate the idea of that," Janeway continued dryly. "You probably think it's a failure of some sort and we both know how much you dislike even the hint of failure. But darling, if you don't have enough information to carry out a task, you don't become frustrated, you simply acquire more information until you're able to accomplish what you set out to do. Just like the slipstream drive project. This is no different."

Explained like that, Seven was able to take a deep breath and feel better about the prospect of telling Sek that she had not succeeded at what had seemed like a fairly simple request at the time. "Yes," she allowed. "That is acceptable."

Janeway took a deep breath. "I'm glad you found someone to help you, Annika," she said soberly. "Despite my ... surprise that you were seeing Sek, I'm fully aware that you need many different viewpoints in your life."

Seven nodded. "Many voices," she said. "Like in the Collective." She offered the captain a tentative smile. "I know you continue to be concerned for my well-being, Kathryn. I have also come to understand now, why you become so irritated when I repeatedly demand that you eat and sleep regularly. It is very annoying."

Janeway looked startled, then laughed. "There's a method behind it," she pointed out. "If one repeats something often enough, the other person will do just about anything to shut the first person up."

Seven considered that. "I always thought it was because you finally saw reason," she said, thinking of all the times she had used the same sort of coercion on Kathryn.

Janeway shook her head. "No, it just meant I wanted you to stop nagging me about it," she said. "Not because I necessarily agreed about your initial reasons for it."

"'Nagging'?"

Another grin, a crooked one this time. "It's a term used for that sort of insistent reminders," the captain explained. "Like it or not, it sometimes serves its purpose."

"Ah," Seven remarked. "It is a useful form of interaction. No doubt we will continue to use it in the future."

"No doubt," Janeway said dryly ... so dryly that Seven had the faint suspicion that she was missing a deeper meaning to what was being said.

The rest of dinner passed uneventfully, though both Seven and the captain again took note of Seven's vastly improved appetite. The Borg even had a respectable piece of blueberry pie and ice cream for dessert, something she had not indulged in for well over a month. Later, Seven resumed her work on the slipstream project at her workstation opposite the captain's desk while Janeway called for Jake and took the dog for a walk.

The captain did not return until late and Seven knew that meant the captain had run into someone, or several someones, during her stroll and passed the time speaking with them. For whatever reason, the crew apparently found it easier to speak with their commanding officer about things that might be bothering them when they ran into her walking Jake than they did when she was wearing her uniform.

Or it was equally possible, Seven considered, that Janeway had found an out-of-the-way spot to contemplate things, including the fact that her spouse had felt the need to go elsewhere for advice ... most likely the small, auxiliary room under the saucer section of Voyager. The Borg had come to comprehend that such need for occasional solitude was necessary for all individuals and for the captain, who had so much responsibility and pressure, sometimes it was even crucial. Seven certainly did not begrudge it to her, nor did the young woman feel hurt or left out by it. Even the Borg, herself, sometimes retired to her alcove on deck eight where she knew she would not be disturbed by casual interruptions as she was while working in astrometrics.

But Seven was still glad to welcome the captain back when Janeway finally returned and even more happy to curl up around Kathryn's warm body after they had finished making love. Settling behind the compact form, Seven sighed softly as she tucked her knees up under Janeway's, snuggling against the soft body in her arms, feeling content and relatively happy. Sometimes the 'giving' in a relationship, simply meant giving each other space, Seven considered.

And 'taking' meant merely accepting the need for it.

Sek regarded the two women sitting across from her in the office and thought that she had never seen two people more resistant to a situation that they themselves, had initiated. Their body language was tense, their expressions foreboding, their eyes darting and nervous, almost as if they were frightened at the prospect at what might be discovered in this joint session.

This one was going to take awhile, Sek thought ruefully.

B'Elanna Torres glowered darkly while she spoke while Ro Laren was more circumspect about her opinion, but both were equal in their reticent attitude. The hologram wondered how she could get the ball rolling with the women and supposed the first step was to try to open the lines of communication, not only between the two women, but with her, as their counselor.

But the initial meeting did not go as well as she hoped. B'Elanna was openly resistant and so was Ro, though Sek rather thought that the Bajoran believed she was being completely cooperative. It was easy for the hologram to see that Ro Laren had undergone several intensive psychological sessions with counselors before and Starfleet counselors in particular. The lieutenant had far too many pat answers, given automatically to Sek's questions. The fledgling counselor wondered if the reserved Bajoran realized how conditioned she had become, how much she was responding by rote rather than with emotional honesty? Ro had obviously learned early how to protect herself from outside probes ... something expected in a security officer with advanced tactical training perhaps, but not necessarily a good thing when dealing with loved ones.

B'Elanna, in contrast, gave short, bitten-off replies and seemed to get angrier the more Ro conducted herself with apparent ease. Sek ended the session finally, by making separate appointments for each woman, as well as scheduling another joint effort sometime in the future. She observed them closely as they left, then looked down at her hands which lay limply on the desk. To her surprise, they were actually trembling a little and it occurred to her, that if she were at all capable of perspiring, sweat would literally be pouring off her. It seemed that Seven of Nine was not going to be Sek's toughest case after all.

Indeed, Seven was responding remarkably well to the sessions, possibly because it was a brand new experience to her and the Borg entered into it with a completely open and accepting attitude. Seven was also extremely motivated to help herself, no doubt because it was stemming from her great desire to please her spouse, her captain and her mentor ... all of which were wrapped up in the compact form of Janeway.

Sek would love to spend a session or two with the captain, but it was clear that while Janeway understood the use of a ship's counselor and was prepared to utilize the tool liberally for her crew, she had no intention of ever using it for herself. Sek could only come to certain conclusions based on observation, and now that she was a fledgling psychologist, she wallowed in them whenever she had the opportunity. To her, it was apparent that, without Seven's moderating influence on the captain, eventually Janeway would have lost her own internal checks and balances and would by now, be well on her way to mimicking some of Captain Ransom's behavior in more than just the obsession to get home.

The hologram sighed and filed the most recent session into the computer, sealed with her ship's counselor authority. Then, because she had a while before her next patient, she activated her mentors, able to do so because her office was part of sickbay and had its own set of internal, holographic emitters. The three individuals appeared, Karn lounging on the leather couch, T'Var, sitting primly in the chair directly opposite Sek, and Dr. Sylvan, standing across the room, looking thoughtfully at a painting on the wall ... just as they had been when she had last deactivated them.

"This is my latest case," she said, and touched the touch pad. Instantly, all the pertinent information regarding Ro and B'Elanna, including a visual and audio recording of the session they had just completed, was presented to the three masters, the holograms absorbing it instantly.

T'Var raised an eyebrow, the only indication of her internal opinion. Sylvan looked concerned as he left the painting and moved over to the chair next to T'Var while Karn snorted in mingled amusement and disgust.

"I await your wisdom," Sek said formally.

"This is going to be a nasty one," Sylvan noted, rather unhelpfully.

T'Var inclined her head slightly. "It does seem that certain difficulties are inherent in this case," she allowed smoothly.

"Torres is a sorry excuse for a Klingon," Karn said. He raised his eyebrow. "Ro is worthy, however. A pity she is not the Klingon."

T'Var glanced at Karn, looking vaguely interested. "Intriguing," she allowed. "Is it possible that because Ro displays traits that are held up as a desirable Klingon personality, that Torres more acutely feels a lack within her own life?"

Sylvan shook his head. "Torres is half Human," he reminded the other two. "Her insecurities spring from a far deeper source than mere cultural influences."

"Nonetheless, one cannot discount cultural influences," Karn noted. "That is both the weakness and the strength of a cross-species relationship."

"A weakness, because one is always judging the other based upon their own cultural conditioning," Sek said thoughtfully, "but a strength because the differences can complement each other and make the relationship more binding."

"I do note one thing," Sylvan offered. "In Torres' past, immature behavior was generally accorded to her Klingon heritage rather than being noted for what it truly was ... a lack of growth and resistance to change."

"Agreed," Karn growled. "But it is to be expected. She does not have a proper grounding in Klingon culture, nor are the people around her cognizant of what being Klingon truly is. So they think that her behaving immaturely is just a display of her Klingon half and make allowances for it in a way that they would not for a member of their own species. Thus, she is granted leave to continue to act in the same manner. Why change when she believes that she has a genetic prerogative to act like a child?"

"Ro does not grant her the same allowance, however," T'Var noted calmly. "She unconsciously demands that Torres act as an adult at all times and makes no excuses for immature behavior. That is confusing to Torres, and she takes it as a personal affront."

"But Ro also treats Torres as if she were Bajoran, with the same maturing influences that she, herself, experienced," Sylvan noted. "Nor does she understand the very Human cultural conditioning Torres underwent for most of her life."

"So how do I help them learn to understand each other?" Sek asked, rather plaintively.

"By guiding them to a greater understanding of themselves," T'Var said promptly. "Once they understand why they do the things they do, it will become much easier for them to realize the other is not acting under the boundaries of the same motivation ... that there is no reason for the other person to act from the same motivation."

"There is something else involved," Sek noted. "It was not discussed today, but clearly something has happened between them that has caused this dissension."

Sylvan regarded her keenly. "Do not allow yourself to fall into easy assumptions," he reminded the holographic Ocampa. "There is rarely a single event that triggers incompatibility. It merely gives voice to all the earlier conflict."

"I understand that," Sek said stubbornly. "But there is still something there. Both kept shying away from certain topics, and their body language indicated it was fresh, and still sharply painful."

Karn nodded. "I noted that too," he said. "There is a bone of contention between them, one they cannot resolve." His dark eyes glared at Sek from beneath shaggy brows. "But unless you uncover it, it becomes difficult to treat."

"That will be your task in the independent sessions," Sylvan instructed. "You will no doubt, get varied views on what, if anything, has happened ... it may not even be the same incident ... but in doing so, you will discover how they truly feel about it."

"I concur," T'Var noted. "More data is required before further speculation is undertaken." She tilted her head slightly. "This is, after all, not an exact science." There was a touch of dissatisfaction with that fact underlying her tone.

Karn linked his fingers over his huge belly and growled. "Agreed," he said shortly. "Next case. How is the Borg progressing?"  The triad, of course, were continually updated with all Sek's cases upon  activation and Karn seemed to have a particular interest in Seven, perhaps because the Borg were an unknown before his death. He seemed fascinated by their hive mentality and success in controlling so many species.

Sek brightened. "Wonderfully," she said. "Seven is so open to being counseled."

"Too open," T'Var noted coolly. "It would be very easy to guide her to where you wish her to be, rather than allowing her to find her own path. She is influenced by a very strong will, as it is. You must help her learn to listen to her inner self rather than merely accepting what she is taught. She must learn to question facts laid before her."

Sylvan nodded. "Her whole experience is one of allowing others to think for her," he said. "It is deeply ingrained. It is difficult for her to differentiate between her own conclusions and those toward which she was guided by outside influences."

Sek frowned. "I don't know that I agree with that," she said. "I find her to have become a very well-rounded and mature individual."

"Because she is with someone who expects it of her," Karn said. "Yet, her spouse is still satisfied by a certain amount of dependence and immaturity from her."

"It is possible that Seven would not have been so devastated by the encounter with the Mimic, were she less trusting of external appearances," Sylvan added gently.

"But I don't want to take away that childlike trust," Sek protested. "It is something that is a part of her ... indeed, it is one of her most valid character traits. Her exterior is Borg, efficient, often cold, sometimes even unemotional. But her true nature is warm and affectionate, loving and kind. Why would I want her to repress that even more than she is already repressing it?"

"You do not need to take it away," Karn argued. "Just help her learn to put her inner child in its proper place. It should not control her."

"I don't think it does," Sek said persistently. "In fact, I don't think she listens to it as much as she needs to. By cutting herself off from the child, Annika Hansen, the adult Seven of Nine has been unable to understand why her encounter with the Mimic was so hurtful. She needs to understand that it's all right to miss her mother, and to love her."

T'Var pinned her with a stern look. "Are you so certain of your conclusions?" she demanded.

Sek hesitated, then firmed her jaw. "Yes," she said. "I believe that once Seven realizes that she needs to nurture and care for the part of her which is still six years old and still needs and loves and misses her mother, that she can fulfill the place of nurturer for herself. Then she will be able to deal with this and find a peace with it." She dared to meet the eyes of the masters who were staring at her with all the scientific intensity of a entomologist with a new species of insect.

She was startled when Sylvan leaned back in his chair and grinned faintly,  T'Var's eyebrow lowered in a relaxed state, and even Karn favored her with a bit of a snaggle-toothed smile.

"Excellent," he rumbled. "We do not need fledgling psychologists who allow themselves to be led easily, either."

"No," Sylvan agreed. "You need to be able to think for yourself, to come to your own conclusions independent of what others, including ourselves, might think."

"Not that you should become close-minded and not listen to any counsel but your own," T'Var reminded her gently. "But it is logical to be confident in your abilities."

Sek nodded, a bit relieved. She wondered if Kes had been the source for this belief in herself, or if it had been the contribution of the Doctor. One thing the Doctor had in the beginning of his development, was an arrogant, almost unshakable confidence in his own abilities, programmed into him by the source of his own holographic matrix, Dr. Zimmerman. It had been hard for him to understand that he simply was not perfect and there had been certain conflicts, not only with others, but with himself, when that conclusion became clear to him. Fortunately, the crew of Voyager had, for the most part, supported his growth over the course of six years and she was sure that they would be equally as supportive to her, which made her job a great deal easier.

"That brings us to my final question," Sek remarked. "And it is not a case, but a concern."

"Proceed," T'Var invited.

"The captain, more than any other member of the crew, requires my services," Sek began tentatively.

"Yet the captain, more than any other member of the crew," Sylvan interrupted, a grin appearing on his bearded face, "is the least likely to accept your services."

"It has been thus since ship's counselors were first employed," T'Var agreed and there might almost have been a hint of amusement in her dark eyes.

"Captains are willful, obstinate, sure of their own invulnerability, self-confident to the point of others wishing to knock them on their ass, and reluctant to display any hint of weakness to anyone ranked below them," Karn rumbled with good humor. "In short, the very things that make them successful captains makes them impossible to counsel."

"In truth, Janeway is both less, and more, than others in this manner," T'Var added thoughtfully. "The history of Starfleet captains reveals that she displays many personality traits that have driven others to destruction."

"Yet," Sylvan noted, "at the same time, she has allowed herself more latitude than any one of those doomed captains."

"By getting married," Sek said.

"Not just by mating," Karn corrected, "but by keeping her mate close by, and allowing her to influence a certain amount of her command. Janeway is almost unique in this case. Few captains marry, and those that do, usually leave their mates behind in their home port."

"Karn is correct," T'Var said. "To have her spouse with her all the time, to actually work, live and be intimate with the same person on board a starship, is unprecedented in the history of Starfleet. It is a completely new dynamic, not only to you, but to us as well."

"It's exciting," Sylvan added. "Who knows where it will lead? I envy you, Child. You have an opportunity for study that no ship's counselor has ever had before. The problems Captain Janeway will face will be completely new, yet, at the same time, they will be the same problems every married couple has faced before. Such a fascinating circumstance."

Sek sighed. "Fascinating," she agreed.

If her tone was faintly ironic, no one was rude enough to comment on it.

Not even Karn. Janeway stood in front of the large windows, staring out at the starfield which Voyager raced through on its seemingly endless journey home. She was still fretting over the fact that Seven had decided to go to Sek for help, and struggling to figure out why it bothered her so much. Though she had managed to hide the strongest part of her unease from Seven the night before, it continued to grow within her and now, here in the solitude of her ready room, it nagged at her like a sore tooth, disturbing her concentration. Was it so bad that Seven would seek assistance with someone else? Or was it that her spouse had taken so long to tell her?

The captain understood that this was probably a result of Seven's experience with the alien. By deciding exactly how her recovery would progress, it granted the Borg a sense of being in control ... something she hadn't had with the alien. But Janeway still felt as if she had somehow let the young woman down, had been unable to offer to her all that she wanted to and it filled her with sadness. She was unable to keep from contemplating the idea that this was the first step of Seven's eventual growing away from her, just as she had always secretly feared. Indeed, what would happen when they returned to the Alpha Quadrant and Seven was exposed to an entire quadrant where she had a multitude of opportunities to expand her knowledge? When she could go to Starfleet Academy or the Daystrom Institute and be exposed to vistas beyond what a mere Starfleet captain could give ... find paths Janeway could not travel?

Katie, you're being foolish, her little voice noted with annoyance. Seven loves you and anything new that she embraces will be something that she insists that you share in as well. Just remember to be open to it.

The door chime interrupted the captain's reverie and she shook her head, almost as if she could shake away the unpleasant thoughts plaguing her with a physical gesture.

"Come," she said, turning around.

Seven of Nine entered the ready room, her curvaceous form covered by the plum colored outfit which gave a rosy glow to her cheeks. She was carrying a padd which she held out as she moved toward the captain.

"The last of the adjustments to the communications array have been made," the Borg explained as the captain went to meet her. "Assuming that Starfleet Command continues their attempts to reach us, we may be able to expect regular contact. Having both arrays aligned into hyper-subspace could possibly negate the necessity of requiring a spatial anomaly as the first contact required."

They intersected at the stairs, Janeway pausing on the bottom step as she took the padd from her partner and studied the data contained in it. Immediately, she saw what the projections indicated.

"Wonderful," she said, trying for an excited tone but probably only succeeding in sounding ironic, conscious of what her thoughts had been prior to Seven's arrival. "We should expect more communiqués soon."

"Yes," Seven said. She was standing at attention, her hands linked behind her back, her head tilted slightly as she regarded the Starfleet captain closely. "Kathryn, what is wrong?" she asked quietly.

Startled, Janeway looked up at her. "Nothing," she said, forcing a smile. "Honestly, Seven," she added cheerfully. "This is great news. I couldn't be more pleased."

Seven raised an eyebrow, obviously skeptical at this dissembling.

"Kathryn, I know when you are not telling the truth," she said with devastating forthcomingness. "Explain." She paused. "Is it required that I tickle you?"

Janeway resisted the urge to sigh. "No," she said, resting her hand on the railing. "I don't want you to tickle me." She frowned and looked down at her feet, feeling an odd sense of mingled resentment and guilt at getting caught in her reluctance to be honest with her spouse.

Seven took a step closer to the captain who, thanks to her standing on the bottom step of the short flight of stairs, was actually  level with the Borg ... an unusual perspective for both of them. The young woman searched Janeway's face intently and Janeway was forced to raise her eyes, meeting the pale blue gaze.

"I know something is wrong," Seven insisted. "Your eyes, which should be blue at such news, are instead, a dark grey. The tiny lines around your mouth are deeper, indicating a tenseness that should not be there. Your shoulders, which are normally relaxed, are squared, as if you are anticipating a blow of some kind."

The captain was horrified that she displayed such blatant physical indications of her emotional state and forcibly relaxed both her shoulders and mouth, though she doubted she could do anything about the color of her eyes. She hadn't known they were such flagrant betrayers of her internal turmoil.

Seven smiled faintly. "Altering your body language now does not change my initial conclusion," she said. "What is wrong, Kathryn?"

Exhaling audibly, Janeway gazed at her partner ruefully. "I'm just ... they are irrational fears, Annika," she said. She hesitated, then added in a slightly aggrieved tone, "When did you get so good at reading me?"

Seven reached out and rested her hands on the captain's waist, holding her in place. "I have always been very aware of your moods," she said fondly, "though not always cognizant of how to respond to them. Now, after being married to you for almost a year, I know when to leave you alone with your distress and when I must pursue what is bothering you before it becomes worse. This is the latter. If indeed, these are irrational fears, the sooner they are dealt with, the better."

"But talking about them may give them a validity they don't deserve," Janeway protested mildly as she placed her hand on Seven's upper chest, spreading her fingers as she felt the slow, powerful throb of her partner's heart beneath her palm. She still held the padd in the other. "I recognize they're irrational, but if I share them with you and you have to acknowledge them, you may feel I have a reason to feel this way, which could hurt you."

"You do have a reason to feel this way," Seven remarked evenly. "Just as I do whenever I experience irrational fears. They are based on certain insecurities within ourselves. By reiterating why there is no need to be insecure, we can lay them to rest again."

"You've gotten very good at that psychobabble," Janeway noted, trying for a light tone, realizing after the fact that she had failed utterly. Seven, of course, immediately picked up on it.

"You are still uneasy that I have chosen to go to Sek," she stated with complete authority.

Janeway groaned. "I know I used to be better at keeping my thoughts private," she complained.

"Perhaps to others," Seven noted. "Not to me. I am far too much a part of your heart, Kathryn, for you to attempt to hide it from me now."

"I guess that's the side affect to living with someone," the captain agreed with a touch of sullenness. She felt Seven pulling her closer, molding her body to hers and she forced her dark mood away, sliding one arm around the slender neck.

"Tell me," Seven said softly in Janeway's ear. "Why does it bother you that I am going to Sek?"

Janeway was silent for a moment, deciding whether she wanted to get into such a discussion now, as Seven waited patiently, rubbing the small of the captain's back soothingly through her tunic with her left hand. "I guess I feel like I've let you down, Annika," Janeway admitted finally. "I've tried so hard to support you during this incident with the 'Mimic', but in the end, it wasn't enough to make things better for you."

Seven considered that. "But Kathryn, no one can make this 'better' for me but myself," she explained gently, "and Sek is merely helping me find a way to do that. That is not to say that you could not have accomplished the same thing. No doubt, over time, you would have helped me arrive at the same conclusions that she does, but since she is not personally involved with my struggles as you are, it makes it easier for me to fight through this. It is allowing me to find some resolution to this on my own at an accelerated pace. With you, I always know that you are hurting as I hurt and that makes it hard for me to explore my pain." She tightened her hold on Janeway. "I must explore this pain, Kathryn, in order to defeat it."

"But I want to help," Janeway said softly and somewhat helplessly.

"You do help," Seven assured her seriously. "Kathryn, you are the one who gave me the strength to go to Sek in the first place. You give me the courage to keep trying to fight through this no matter how much it hurts. And you give me the hope that no matter how hard it is, I will find a way to resolve it." She paused. "As captain, when you must make a difficult command decision which may affect you personally, do you only speak with me about it?"

Janeway smiled. "No, I also talk it over with Chakotay and Tuvok," she admitted as she buried her face in the warm neck of her spouse. "I understand all this intellectually, darling," she added in a muffled tone. "Really I do. I just have a hard time emotionally, recognizing that I can't be everything for you. In my heart, I feel like I've failed you."

"You have not failed me, Kathryn," Seven told her sincerely. "You have never failed me, nor do I believe that you shall ever let me down. But I have learned that no one can be everything to another person even though that is a hard concept to accept. I, too, wish that I could be everything you need at all times, but I realize that I am not. You need other things in your life; the ship, your crew, your command. Yet, I also know that does not mean that you love me any less or that I am any less important to you. My asking Sek for assistance does not mean that I no longer need you. It just means that sometimes I must go outside 'us' to build on what we have. That is not wrong."

"No, it isn't," Janeway said. "It absolutely isn't, my love." She swallowed hard against a throat that seemed a little full. She was ashamed of what she was feeling and added in a small voice; "I guess I worry that this is the first step in you growing away from me."

"Never," Seven insisted firmly, pressing her cheek against the captain's. "This is merely the first step of being able to grow on my own. Until now, I was like a child, Kathryn, always looking to you to help me in everything. Indeed, expecting you to always have an answer for me, which was not always fair to you. Now I realize I must find my own answers, but it will not take me away from you. Nothing ever will."

Janeway sighed softly.

"Sometimes I wonder who's the more immature here," Janeway muttered ruefully. "I'm sorry, darling."

Seven hugged her tightly. "We complement each other, Kathryn," she said. "I am learning that as well, in my sessions with Sek. I am who I am because of you. You taught me how to be Human ... how to be me." She smiled and bent her head, catching the captain's gaze with her own. "But at the same time, I remind you of how to be you."

Janeway smiled faintly, a blush touching her cheeks and making them warm. "You do," she admitted bashfully. "Without you, I would be this miserable, sad and very, very lonely starship commander, not to mention someone who would sometimes forget what being kind and compassionate is really all about. You keep me firmly in check, always reminding me of why I became a Starfleet captain in the first place, and never, ever letting me forget my own Humanity." She paused, her chest full. "I love you so much, my darling, yet sometimes, those words seem inadequate to express how much."

Seven nodded. "I know," she said. "You mean so much to me."

"I beyond love you," they said together and laughed. Or at least, Janeway laughed while Seven made that small sound of amusement in her throat. One day, Janeway thought as she clung to her partner, basking in her warmth and scent, Seven would remember how to really laugh out loud, and the captain hoped with everything she was that she would be there to witness it.

"I guess I just have to trust in us," Janeway said softly, after a few moments had passed where they held each other tightly. "I tell you that all the time. I need to learn how to take my own advice."

"I know that is hard for you," Seven said dryly. "You are much better at giving advice than at taking it."

Janeway bent her head, resting her forehead on Seven's as she smiled. "I am," she admitted readily. "Maybe some day I'll be mature enough to do it without struggling so hard."

"Some day," Seven said indulgently.

She was regarding the captain from beneath her sandy lashes and Janeway didn't hesitate, closing the distance between them to kiss her beloved spouse with complete abandon. She absorbed herself in Seven, delighting in the lips moving over hers, the sweet, intoxicating breath filling her as she inhaled, the security and sense of belonging she felt within this embrace. The warmth of Seven's hands on her back penetrated the layers of uniform as the Borg pulled her close, holding her as naturally as breathing. When they finally parted, Seven stared into her eyes with scientific intensity.

"They're blue now," Seven informed her. "With little grey. You are more relaxed now."

Janeway blinked, then grinned wryly. "Well, since I can't replace my eyes, I guess you're always going to know what I'm feeling," she said.

Seven examined her face. "Does that truly bother you?" she asked.

"No," Janeway said gently. "I may thrash around a bit, but you've landed me fair and proper. All that's left is for you to stuff me and mount me on the wall."

Seven eyed her. "That is a fishing metaphor, is it not?" she said uncertainly.

"Yes, it is," the captain replied, softly. She kissed her again, very gently, lingering over the Borg's bottom lip. "Darling, it's time to get back to work."

"Yes," Seven said, releasing the captain reluctantly. "We have not been fishing for a long time," she added, a trifle wistfully.

Janeway quirked an eyebrow as she stepped off the stair and moved around the young woman to take a seat behind her desk. "No, we haven't," she agreed. She laid the padd on the desktop and smiled. "Next time we have leave on an appropriate M-class planet, I promise that you and I will make a date to go fishing."

Seven's face brightened. "That would be acceptable," she said. She linked her hands once more behind her back. "Do you wish to start attempting to communicate with Starfleet?"

Janeway nodded. "Yes," she said. "Set up a regular, repeating message on that channel, indicating that we are ready to receive. Hopefully, they'll be able to pick it up in the near future, assuming they're looking for it."

"I am sure they will be," Seven noted. She waited and Janeway stared at her blankly, then smiled as she realized her inadvertent lapse.

"Dismissed," the captain said firmly, then hesitated before adding, with a touch of impishness, "Darling."

Seven shot her an amused look and left the ready room. For a long time afterward, Janeway leaned back in her chair and stared at the door which had closed behind the young woman. Her face was still thoughtful, but she did not think it was so strained now.

She did wonder what color her eyes were, however. Seven of Nine was startled when she walked into her quarters. The illumination had been brought down to about one quarter, while flickering flames from a variety of candles scattered random shadows over the area. Soft music played over the internal speakers; a slow, romantic meld of saxophone and strings, which brought to mind moonlight and nights on the beach, though how it managed it, Seven was unsure. There was no greeting from Jake and she realized that he must have been farmed out to someone else for the evening though she did not know why. A quick scan of the Borg's memories indicated that this was not a special occasion she had overlooked. It was not her birthday, not Janeway's birthday, nor the anniversary of the first time they met, or made love or moved in together or were married. The current date corresponded to no particular holiday in Human culture, or any other culture represented by the crew of Voyager, for that matter.

She raised an eyebrow curiously as her partner appeared in the doorway of the bedroom, dressed in a silk gown, long and flowing about her compact form, a deep, sapphire blue, which set off her eyes gloriously, as it clung to every curve. Seven observed Janeway closely as she gently placed the padds she had been carrying onto the flat surface of the desk next to her.

"Have I forgotten something?" she asked as she watched Janeway walk toward her, the young woman's eyes appreciatively taking in every millimeter of the journey, roaming over the provocative way her partner's body moved beneath the silk.

"No, this isn't a special occasion," Janeway said as she slipped her arms around Seven's waist and pressed her body against her with sweet familiarity. "Just some time for us."

She swayed invitingly and before Seven realized what she was doing, she was following the captain's lead and the two were dancing. Seven inhaled deeply, detecting the scent of the perfume Janeway rarely added to her pulse points, and the hint of fragrance that came from the oils normally used in the captain's bath. Obviously, the captain had taken some time to prepare for her partner's arrival. Softly, the Borg nuzzled the fine, auburn hair and hugged the silk-covered form to her.

"Should I change?" she asked after a few moments, drawing back slightly in order to look down into the gentle bluish eyes. "Into something more appropriate for the ... evening?"

"You're absolutely fine, just the way you are," Janeway assured her, her face soft and vulnerable as she regarded her. "Darling, I just wanted to show you how much I love you. And to apologize for being so silly this afternoon."

"You are never silly, Kathryn," Seven told her seriously. Then, she squeezed her gently and added in a lighter tone, "However, I am certainly not adverse to being apologized to in such a manner."

Janeway laughed, that low, husky laugh that never failed to rush along Seven's nerve endings like quicksilver, making her smile in return. It took the young Borg back to a time when all she needed for perfect happiness was this woman in her arms, oblivious to anything that might threaten it. Seven was no longer as naive as she had been once, now requiring a distinct effort to block out her external problems, but for this moment, she was glad to try. She nestled the smaller woman under her chin and gracefully, they danced about the room, immersing themselves in each other, delighting in the wonderful way in which they moved together.

"I have missed this as well," she murmured.

"You have developed into such an incredible dancer," Janeway whispered. "I can't imagine ever wanting to dance with anyone other than you."

Seven pulled her closer, running her hands over the captain's back, her fingertips stroking the skin lightly where the gown was cut low, feeling the warmth. Janeway shivered in her arms.

"I love when you do that," she said breathlessly in the young woman's ear.

"Then I shall do it often," Seven promised, drawing her fingers languidly up her partner's spine, smiling as she heard the intake of breath. Gently, she kissed along the line of Janeway's jaw, brushing her lips over the smooth skin and bone until she reached the earlobe which she took gently between her teeth, nibbling it.

The captain moaned softly and Seven continued to nuzzle her as she eased the direction of their dancing toward the bedroom. But Janeway protested when she realized where they were heading.

"Not yet, darling," she explained. "I have dinner planned."

Seven looked down at her, amused. "Very well," she allowed. "Apparently, I am moving too quickly. What have you planned exactly?"

Janeway grinned at her. "Hmm, lots of finger foods that I can feed to you," she informed her. "And they won't all be fed to you by hand."

Seven quirked an eyebrow. "Indeed?" she responded, intrigued by the implication in her partner's voice. "How do you intend to feed them to me?"

"I have my ways," Janeway noted unhelpfully, lifting her own eyebrow. The captain captured the Borg's hand and pulled her in the direction of the dining table which was set with candles and crystal. She positioned the young woman in the chair set sideways to the table, then moved over to the kitchenette counter where she retrieved a large platter of filled pastries, along with vegetables, meats and cheeses, which she carried back to the table. A bottle of spring wine was chilling in an ice bucket and she filled a glass before sitting on Seven's lap so that she was facing the table, leaning against the Borg's front.

Seven regarded her evenly. "This is most interesting," she noted.

"That's the intention," Janeway replied. She picked up a spinach-and-beef filled pocket and placed it between her teeth before turning her head to Seven. The young woman hesitated before finally realizing that she was expected to take it from the captain and carefully, she nipped it from Janeway's mouth, ending up with half the small square while Janeway ended up with the other half, the couple stealing a lingering kiss in the process.

Seven decided she rather liked this method of eating.

"This is like the dinner you served me, reflecting the Orion culture," she said, after having been offered several more morsels of food in a like manner, referring to a meal the captain had served to her shortly after Janeway had lost her memories ... when she had been attempting to 'woo' the young woman. She sipped the spring wine from the crystal glass Janeway offered to her, meeting the blue-grey gaze over the rim. "Except you did not utilize your mouth to transfer the food to me."

"Something like that," Janeway agreed softly. She placed the glass back on the table and gently kissed Seven on the nose. "I think that sometimes I don't romance you as much as I should."

Seven became thoughtful. "You are not, by nature, a romantic," she offered, then eyed her fondly. "However, that simply makes the romantic gestures you attempt even more memorable, Kathryn."

"Well, I definitely want to be memorable to you, Annika," Janeway said quietly. "I never want you to forget how much I adore you."

Seven took note of the tone, wondering if she detected a deeper meaning to the words. Perhaps it was another indication of the captain's unease that she had revealed earlier in the day. The Borg wished there was a way to reassure Janeway that she would never grow away from her, no matter what happened, but she had come to realize there was no one single thing she could do or say to calm these irrational fears of her partner. All she could really do was continue to love the captain with everything she had, and immediately, she pulled Janeway close, kissing her gently.

"You are the first thing I think of when the morning arrives," Seven said softly, but intently, "and the last thing I remember before I go to sleep. When I am in astrometrics or elsewhere on duty, sometimes I must stop because thoughts of being with you are so distracting that I, literally, cannot work. When I wake in the night, I automatically reach for you before I have even opened my eyes. Even now, after spending so much time together, you are still first and foremost in my heart and you always will be. Being 'memorable' is not something that you ever need worry about."

Janeway smiled and blushed, obviously pleased. "You're such a sweet-talker," she muttered bashfully, finding another pastry which Seven lipped lightly from the captain's fingers, nibbling the tips sensuously, making the captain shiver again. "Not to mention, a very exciting and attractive woman."

"Only for you, my Kathryn," Seven told her gravely. "With no one else do I ever wish to show this side of myself."

"I'm properly grateful for it," Janeway smiled and provided another piece of pastry for the Borg. This exchange was a little clumsier and a fragment dropped onto the captain's cleavage. Immediately, Seven swooped down and retrieved it with her mouth, taking the opportunity to nuzzle in the warm valley. Janeway laughed after a few moments of this.

"Having trouble finding it?" she asked softly.

"Merely making sure I have every crumb," Seven responded warmly, raising her head to gaze into eyes which were bright blue with only the barest trace of grey.

Cupping the captain's cheek in her palm, Seven drew Janeway's face to her, kissing her with intense concentration as she dropped her right hand to the legs draped across her lap, gently stroking the outermost one, slipping under the silken gown to travel along the muscle. Janeway made the humming sound under her breath that she always made when she was becoming aroused, slipping her arms around Seven's neck and returning her kisses with increasing interest.

"Do you want to go into the bedroom?" she asked after a few moments as the caresses became more specific.

"I believe we are fine where we are," Seven told her. She eased her fingers over the top of Janeway's leg, fingertips running over the soft skin to the tender inner thigh which she stroked lovingly, enticingly.

Janeway inhaled slowly. "We might be more comfortable on the bed," she persisted gently as Seven was soon stymied by the confined situation of the captain's undergarments and their position on the dining nook chair, unable to maneuver to where she wished to be.

"Perhaps you are correct," Seven allowed with a faint smile. In one easy motion, she stood, cradling Janeway in her arms as she carried her into the bedroom.

Janeway let out her breath in a huff. "Honestly, no matter how many times you do this," she said, "it astounds me each and every time." She kissed her partner's neck. "And I absolutely love it."

"I know," Seven noted, with a touch of smugness. "That is why I do it."

Janeway chuckled as the Borg lowered her to the bed, running her hands along the young woman's arms, trying to pull her down on top of her. Seven resisted, drawing away.

"I must undress," she explained.

"Slowly?" Janeway suggested hopefully.

Seven tilted her head, once more amused by her partner's obvious intent. "Slowly," she agreed as she reached up to the back of her neck and unfastened her biometric outfit, peeling it off her shoulders and arms. She hesitated for a few moments, holding it in front of her torso as she judged Janeway's interest. When the captain moistened her lips as she regarded her avidly, Seven leisurely pushed it down to reveal first, her breasts and then, her flat, muscled stomach, before pausing again.

Janeway made a small sound of protest when the Borg did not seem inclined to resume and Seven smiled faintly, finally pushing the bunched material over her hips and letting it fall to the floor. Nude, she stood before her partner, unconsciously posing for Janeway who seemed properly appreciative.

"You're so beautiful," the captain said huskily.

"I am adequate," Seven said as she joined her partner on the bed. "You are beautiful."

"Not many would agree with you," Janeway noted.

"Irrelevant," Seven responded, pulling Janeway close to her, delighting in the feel of the captain's silk gown against her bare skin and the warmth of her partner through that. They kissed, deeply and passionately, clinging together on top of the blankets, legs entwining, hearts beginning to beat as one, their respiration increasing to match each other.

Seven slipped her hand beneath the gown to the captain's hip, resting it there momentarily as she kissed her again, thinking that she could easily lose herself in her partner, and never have to worry about anything ever again. If only she could find a way to hold this moment forever and seal herself within it. Reality prevented that of course, but perhaps just the memory of it, the recognition of it, could keep her strong when times were darkest.

Certainly, earlier moments with Kathryn had carried her through this most devastating of experiences and without the precious memories of love and happiness, it would have been a lot more difficult to deal with her pain and anger. She had learned that she could rely on it, and on the woman in her arms, and because of that, she knew nothing would ever defeat her.

Janeway reclined in the warmth and sated satisfaction of afterglow, lying across her spouse in the center of the bed, the blankets pulled up around the couple to shelter them from the night. They had turned off the music and Seven had obligingly gotten out of bed at one point to blow out the candles in the living area. The platter, which still contained a good part of their dinner, had been brought into the bedroom where they finished their aborted meal, spending an inordinate amount of time finding new ways to transfer the pieces of pastry from one to the other. Now, the captain happily snuggled back against the warm cushion of Seven's torso, the Borg's arms encircling the captain, keeping her safe and warm as they rested against the pillows piled high at the head of the bed.

"I believe I like your apologies," Seven said after a while, her voice warmly amused.

"I'm glad," Janeway responded with humor. "You should know I'm not in the habit of apologizing often so you should really appreciate this moment."

"I appreciate every moment with you," Seven told her, and Janeway felt the Borg's lips brush over her temple lovingly.

The captain smiled and stretched a bit, startled when her foot encountered an obstruction in the tangled sheets at the bottom of the bed. She reached down, twisting herself into an uncomfortable position before she was able to lay her fingers on it and pull it from its hiding place.

"Ah," she said, holding up the crumpled remains of her silk gown. "I wondered where it had gotten to." She examined the seam where it had been parted neatly and efficiently by Seven's left hand. "Darling, you really should take the time to pull this over my head rather than ripping it off me."

Seven raised an eyebrow. "You are the one who always insists that you are in a hurry at that stage of our ... interaction," she protested mildly. "It is something I do only at your instigation."

"I know, but it costs an extra ration to repair this when I cycle it through the replicator," Janeway said, tossing it grandly in the general direction of the ensuite. "Those add up after awhile. Don't do what I say, next time, but as I wish."

"Yes, Kathryn," Seven said, in the sort of tone that indicated she was indulging her partner rather than actually listening to her.

Janeway elbowed her gently in the stomach which prompted the Borg to start tickling the captain's ribs, making her squirm away desperately to escape, trying to control her laughter. It was the only time the reserved and extremely dignified captain of Voyager actually 'giggled' and it made her completely helpless before her partner, something that both pleased and dismayed her.

"Damn," she said breathlessly, with Seven relenting in her gentle assault as quickly as she had started it, pulling the captain into her arms where she held her tenderly. "That's just not fair. You're not ticklish at all, but you can make me do whatever you want just by threatening to tickle me."

"Yes, but if you scratch my back, I am completely helpless to your every whim," Seven noted dryly. "You are fully cognizant of that fact."

"That's true," Janeway agreed, turning in her partner's embrace so she could reach around Seven to do just that, running her nails lightly over the smooth line of the Borg's back.

"Ah," Seven said blissfully, her head falling back. "What is it you wish me to do?"

Janeway laughed. "Nothing," she told her partner playfully. "This time. But it's good to know I have an ace in the hole if I need it."

"Explain," Seven said, her eyes closed as she basked under her partner's caress, wiggling when Janeway found a particularly sensitive spot.

"Why I might need an ace in the hole?" Janeway asked.

"No, what the expression means," Seven remarked.

Janeway nuzzled her partner's neck. "It means," she said, her tone slightly muffled, "that it is an advantage I can hold in the event of future opposition."

"I see," Seven noted casually. "Do you expect opposition from me in the future?"

"One never knows," Janeway said lightly, lifting up as Seven shifted position, rolling over to accord the captain greater access to her back. "After all, one should always be prepared for every eventuality."

"I have come to believe that it is a most difficult task," Seven responded sleepily, lying on her stomach now, her head cradled in her arms, her face turned toward her partner who had propped herself up on her right side. "No one can prepare for everything. It is always the unexpected which causes the most grief."

"Agreed," Janeway said softly, wondering if her partner was referring to her recent run-in with the alien. She leaned down and kissed Seven's shoulder blade affectionately. "But the more one prepares, the less unexpected events will occur."

"Perhaps," Seven allowed, not disagreeing exactly, but not fully in accordance with Janeway's view.

The captain smiled and snuggled closer to her partner, easing her head down onto the pillow, her left hand still moving lazily over Seven's back. When Janeway glanced over, she discovered the young woman was regarding her through slitted eyes, the right corner of her mouth curled upward.

"What?" the captain asked softly.

Seven's half-smile widened. "You are so good to me," she said.

Janeway exhaled slowly, changing her caress to the flat of her palm, rubbing it over the young woman's back to soothe the inflamed skin. "Oh, darling," she said, a touch ruefully. "I hope that I am. I know there were many times when we first were together that I wasn't all I could have been for you."

"That was before I had you trained properly," Seven remarked idly.

Surprised, Janeway's eyes narrowed and she leaned over to nip the tip of Seven's shoulder, hard enough to leave a red mark. The Borg jerked out of reach, looking amused.

"I am not that easily trained, my dear," Janeway growled.

"Did I refer to it as 'easy'?" Seven questioned innocently. "Jake was far more amenable, even when he was a puppy."

Janeway laughed. "Damn, I'm not winning any with you at all, tonight," she said. "I suppose it's time to surrender." She relaxed on her back and the Borg relented in her teasing, reaching over to wrap the captain up in a sweet embrace.

"We have not played with each other like this for a long time," Seven noted wistfully as she cuddled her partner. "Making love seems better when it is playful rather than serious."

"Sometimes," Janeway agreed, tucked up under the young woman's chin. "Adults need to play, too, but for us, it seems that the bed is the only place where we've had the opportunity, lately."

Seven sighed softly. "I want us to spend more time in recreational pursuits," she said. "Is that possible?"

Janeway was silent as she considered her partner's words. "There's no question that there are demands on us that others in the crew don't have," she admitted quietly, with a touch of sadness, "and sometimes, that means that we don't have a lot of spare time to spend together."

"I know," Seven allowed softly. She kissed Janeway gently on her forehead. "I am not saying this to make you feel bad, Kathryn. Honestly, that is not my intention. I know how hard you have been working, particularly in the last few months. When I consider all that you manage to do, with your command and yourself and always trying to be there for me and our marriage, it is beyond my imagining." She ran her fingertips lightly along the smooth skin of Janeway's upper chest, her face thoughtful. "Yet, I do think it is important for us to take recreational time for ourselves. I am not asking this to make more demands on you, but merely to remind you of its importance."

"I realize its importance, darling," Janeway said quietly, stroking Seven's bicep idly. "And this isn't the first time we've talked about this, but talking about it and actually finding time to manage it are two different things." She smiled suddenly. "You know, you're not exactly the 'laid back' type, either, love," she added, hugging Seven for emphasis. "Sometimes, pulling you away from work is the real meaning of futility in being involved with a Borg."

"That is true," Seven allowed ruefully. "Instilled in me is the need to be constantly 'busy' all the time. As hard as I try to 'relax', sometimes I am unable to accomplish it."

Janeway stroked the young woman's cheek soothingly. "It's a hard thing to learn," she agreed, "if it's not your nature." She settled in a little closer to her spouse, letting Seven's warmth absorb her as she sighed softly. "Darling, I think it's all right to be the sort of people who enjoy keeping busy. Granted, sometimes we overwork to the point where we're doing ourselves damage and by all means, we need to keep a check on that by taking time for relaxation. We also need to be very clear on our priorities and that means making a point of spending a significant amount of time together. But meanwhile, there's no reason to feel guilty because we're active people."

"I do not feel guilty," Seven noted with mild surprise. "Did I imply that?"

Janeway laughed. "My mistake," she said. She rubbed her foot up and down Seven's leg, wondering if her partner was really as tired as she sounded or might be interested in further 'play'. "Guess I was thinking of something else."

"I believe I can speculate about the 'something else'," Seven noted, eyeing her covertly. "Do you require something?"

Janeway purred a little. "Only if you want the same thing," she said hopefully.

Seven appeared to consider it carefully, her face thoughtful and the captain waited for her response impatiently. Seven noted this and made that little snicker in the back of her throat that indicated her amusement, pulling Janeway closer to her.

"I suspect," Seven said, running her hand languidly over the captain's stomach and breasts, "that we must take full advantage of this apology, just as you suggested."

"It's never a good idea to pass up opportunity," the captain agreed cheerfully as Seven gathered her up and rolled onto her back, pulling the captain over on top of her. Janeway's breath caught in her throat as she gazed down into the narrow features of her beloved spouse. "Particularly," she added huskily, "when one never knows what the future will bring."

"Indeed," Seven responded gently. She reached up with her hands, cradling Janeway's face in her palms, kissing her with complete devotion.

Janeway purred happily as her body rested easily on the yielding softness of Seven's breasts and stomach, her legs entwining intimately with the Borg's. Seven's hands trailed down to the captain's shoulders, then slipped along the line of Janeway's back as the kisses went on, soft, absorbing, passionate ... loving. Janeway felt herself sink willingly into this place where there was nothing but her partner's mouth on her own, the lips so tender and sweet, captivating her utterly.

"Sit up," Seven whispered finally, urging ... promisingly.

Obediently, Janeway repositioned herself so that she was straddling Seven's hips, looking down at her partner as she breathed deeply. Placing her hands gently on the Borg's breasts, she caressed them in slow circles, the nipples poking into her palms and she toyed with them, circling the rosy areolas with the tips of her fingers. Seven smiled faintly and reached up with her own caress, using her fingertips to lightly stroke Janeway, rubbing the firm points and sending shivers of delight through the captain. Then she gasped as she realized the metal tips on Seven's mesh-covered left hand were vibrating subtly, an added stimulation to the velvet soft skin of her nipples.

"Annika?" she murmured in pleased surprise. "How are you doing that?"

Seven's smile widened. "It is a new adaptation with my hand," she explained as she continued to touch her lovingly. "My implant has a function for cleaning small compartments by emitting sonic waves. By damping down the intensity to the lowest level, I can provide a sensation in my fingertips much like the vibration setting in the wonder wand."

Janeway inhaled slowly. "My goodness," she said huskily. "Whatever made you come up with that application?"

Seven actually showed her teeth in this smile. "You inspire me to be constantly innovative," she revealed, "in order to find new ways to please you."

"Oh, darling," Janeway murmured, "The old ways work fine."

"Do you object to this new adaptation?"

Janeway paused, then smiled wickedly as she felt Seven's fingertips, humming merrily, moved languidly over the underside of her breasts, then down her stomach to the inside of her thighs. "Not at all, my love," she said. "By all means, test the limits of your innovation."

Seven smiled again and Janeway closed her eyes, her head falling back and she made an involuntary sound as Seven gently stroked the length of her inner leg, from her knee to the very tender skin just below the junction of her legs.

"Oh, Annika," she whispered, squeezing the full breasts in her grip, the flesh spilling over her hands. Trembling at the intriguing and arousing sensations that the metal tips were causing on her skin and nerve endings, she had to force herself to keep from urging Seven to quicken her pace, knowing it was better this way even though she thought she would go mad. "It feels so good."

"I'm glad," Seven said softly. "I want you to feel good, my Kathryn. Better than anyone else has ever made you feel."

"You do," Janeway responded fervently, her head falling forward as Seven gently slipped her fingers along the captain's crease. "No one has ever loved me like you do."

She jerked and moaned as Seven traced the swollen lips, then the Borg carefully parted them and abruptly, the metal fingertips were touching the little bundle of nerves, vibrating with shattering results over the acutely sensitive nubbin. The captain's eyes flew open and she stared, wide-eyed, down into the enthralled expression of her partner who was watching Janeway avidly.

"Oh, god, love, that's ... oh god..." Janeway felt her heart pound, the pleasure arcing through her like a electrical spark from Seven's fingers, singing along each individual nerve ending. "Annika ... god ... don't stop..."

Seven looked remarkably pleased by this response but did not comment on it. Instead, she continued to carefully fondle the tiny protrusion and the cry Janeway made next was not coherent at all, but merely a sound of pleasure and delight. She made another as Seven penetrated her with her other hand, two fingers slipping into her lovingly, pushing into the captain deeply, flexing with a rhythm that seemed to match the throbbing of the metal Borg digits. Janeway rocked on the younger woman, unable to keep from moving against the maddening sensation, then cried out again, loudly as her climax crashed over her, seeming to last forever, not ceasing until weakly, barely able to control her motion, she was able to pull herself away from Seven's hand.

"Too much," she moaned, curling up into the loving arms as she collapsed on her partner and Seven held her tightly, comfortingly as she eased them both over onto their sides, tucking the captain up under her chin.

"It is all right, Kathryn," Seven told her, her tone concerned. "I will not do this again."

Janeway fought for breath, feeling her pounding heart gradually slow. "Well, let's not go that far," she muttered, swallowing hard. "It was just a little intense there for a minute."

Seven hugged her. "It is hard for me to know when to stop," she said, faintly distressed. "You do not tell me."

"I can't," Janeway responded honestly. "You leave me speechless, darling." She managed a weak chuckle and rose up long enough to kiss her partner, sensing her dismay. "Annika, it was wonderful," she reassured her. "It ... overwhelmed me for a moment. We just need to experiment a bit more with it." She reached down and captured the Borg hand in her own, bringing it up to her lips, where she kissed each silver-capped fingertip tenderly, tasting herself on the cool metal. "It was simply amazing."

Seven lost the dismayed shadow in her eyes and looked pleased again. "I am glad," she said.

Janeway smiled at her and leaned over, kissing her lingeringly. "Now, how can I give you an equally amazing experience?" she murmured, her hands roaming over the young woman.

Gently, but firmly, Seven restrained the captain's hands. "I do not require anything, right now," she told her quietly.

Janeway blinked. "Are you sure?" she asked.

"I am sure," Seven assured her. "You are tired and so am I. I was merely interested in determining the functionality of my new adaptation." She paused and smiled. "We have already had a very ... extensive evening and we both have duty tomorrow morning."

Janeway hesitated, then sighed softly as she settled against her partner, feeling sudden weariness seep over her once she allowed herself to think about it. She had to admit to herself that she was a little relieved and grateful that her spouse was less than interested in continuing ... that last encounter had drained Janeway of a lot of energy ... but she still felt a trifle guilty. "I'll make it up to you, darling," she promised drowsily.

"I know you will," Seven told her, her tone amused. "You always do." She stroked Janeway's back languidly, to soothe rather than arouse. "I am just gratified that you were pleased by my adaptation."

"Oh, very much so," Janeway smiled and squeezed her. She paused, then added; "Darling, can I make a suggestion?"

"Certainly," Seven assented readily.

"The next time you come up with an idea like this? Maybe you should try it out on yourself first ... just to get a sense of how incredibly intense it is. That might give you a better understanding of how much I can take so you won't overwhelm me."

Sever looked thoughtful. "That is an excellent idea," she allowed. "I did not think of that." She hesitated, then glanced at her partner teasingly. "Would you care to observe such future experiments?"

Janeway laughed. "You make me the nicest offers, darling," she said. "I would be more than glad to act as your check ... for purely scientific purposes, of course."

"Of course," Seven agreed, smiling faintly. She kissed Janeway's forehead. "Sleep now, my Kathryn. I love you."

"I love you," Janeway murmured, feeling warm and safe and completely adored in these arms. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to fall asleep, thinking that finally, perhaps they would get through the rest of this night undisturbed. Seven of Nine glanced up from her work console in astrometrics as she heard a muted beep on the communications system and immediately, she hailed the bridge.

"Seven to bridge," she said, her hands flying over her board. "Incoming transmission, on the emergency Starfleet channel."

"Put it through," Janeway's voice returned and Seven could easily detect the excitement and pleasure in it. Obediently, the Borg transferred the incoming communication to the bridge and listened in avidly, as she was sure everyone on the bridge was doing.

"Starfleet Command to USS Voyager. Come in, Voyager."

"This is Captain Janeway. Go ahead, Starfleet Command."

"This is Lt. Reginald Barclay, Captain. We only have a limited allotment of time on the Mutara Inter-dimensional Deep-space transponder Array, so this will be a packet burst. It includes several personal letters for your crew as well as several items pertaining to Starfleet Operations."

Seven decided that made sense. As important as this was to the crew of Voyager, the MIDAS construct was an interstellar monitoring system which was constantly utilized by not only Starfleet, but a variety of Federation civilian scientific projects which were considered absolutely crucial to far more people than merely talking to one little ship lost in the Delta Quadrant was. In fact, Seven knew that many projects were backed up as much as a decade in some cases. To appropriate time to communicate with Voyager probably required a great deal of cutting through red tape and string-pulling by Starfleet Command and it was not surprising that the communication was so limited.

"That's welcome news, Lieutenant," Janeway said warmly. "We're ready to receive. We're sending you our most recent logs in return."

"We will attempt to contact you again at the beginning of next month and hope to continue that monthly communication on a regular basis," Barclay informed them. He paused and then added in a gentler voice, "We're not giving up, Captain. We'll get you home somehow."

There was the tiniest of catches in Janeway's voice as she responded, though Seven didn't know if anyone but she was able to pick up on it.

"Thank you, Lt. Barclay," the captain of Voyager said.

"Starfleet Command out."

Seven took note of the gigaquads of information which had been downloaded into her console and began the task of organizing it. In addition to the letters, there were several high classification files ... no doubt intended for the captain's eyes only, and she resisted the urge to check them out ... a list of files which apparently included a history of the Federation in the past six years, and, to her surprise, a list of recreational holoprograms and novels. She hadn't realized entertainment would be such a high priority for Starfleet.

The door hissed open behind her and she glanced back, seeing both Janeway and Chakotay enter astrometrics, bright expressions on their faces. She obligingly handed Janeway the padd containing the classified files and the one containing the Federation news files to Chakotay.

"I intend to transmit the various private communiqués to the appropriatepersonal work stations," Seven offered. "Unlike before, when I was required to painstakingly reproduce the information, this is a clean transmission and I will not need to review the contents."

"Good idea," Janeway said, obviously happy at the news. Her eyes were a bright blue and Seven wondered how exhausted the Borg would end up being this night. When the captain was in a good mood, her desire rose accordingly and Seven could expect a certain amount of 'celebrating'. She tingled pleasantly at the thought. Janeway looked anxiously at her board. "Was there anything else?"

"They also included several recreational programs," Seven said, her tone vaguely puzzled.

Chakotay smiled broadly. "That's great," he remarked. "Download them directly into the computer database. I know a few people who desperately need to try them." He glanced at the captain. "This is going to do morale a world of good."

"Inform the crew as to what's going on," Janeway told him. "Let them know that this will be a regular occurrence and that, while I understand their desire to read any private messages as quickly as possible, they must have someone covering their posts when they do so or otherwise, they must wait until the end of their duty shifts."

"Discipline matters," he agreed. "Especially now."

He left astrometrics and Seven glanced at the captain. "We both have private correspondence," she revealed. "I believe the letters are from Gretchen and Phoebe. At least, the name Janeway is on the return address."

The captain closed her eyes briefly and Seven realized that the good news had temporarily staggered the other woman with its import. With Chakotay's exit and only the two of them here, the captain could finally reveal it through the command mask. Disregarding protocol, the Borg reached out and pulled her spouse to her with one arm, hugging her strongly. For once, Janeway did not resist, wrapping her arms around the young woman's waist and burying her face in the hollow of Seven's neck. Holding her tightly, Seven used her other hand to continue her work until finally, Janeway pulled away, once more composed.

"We are still twenty years away," Seven reminded her with great gentleness.

"I know," Janeway responded softly. She smiled wistfully. "That fact is going to sink in eventually, not only with me, but the rest of the crew. I hope Sek is up to it."

"I am sure she is," Seven replied, not quite understanding the full extent of what the captain meant.

"I have to get back to the bridge," Janeway said. She hesitated, then reached up and fleetingly drew her knuckles along Seven's cheek. "I'll see you at home later."

Seven inclined her head, her eyes keen as she watched her partner leave and wondered how, if the very self-possessed captain had been so affected by this communication, the rest of the ship was faring.

She found out when her duty shift ended and she made her way back to deck three. Sek had contacted her and rescheduled their session, letting Seven off her shift an hour early, since Jennifer Delaney was already covering astrometrics. There seemed to be an impromptu party going on through the various corridors and several times, the Borg saw  crewmembers gathered in small groups, talking with what seemed to be great excitement. Several were reading out loud from padds, obviously sharing the messages they had received from home and she wondered why this was so different from the last time Voyager had received mail. She thought about it and concluded that unlike that incident, when not everyone received a message of some sort, leaving certain of the crew out, this was a ship-wide contact, with everyone being included. No one felt guilty about getting mail when their roommate didn't, there was no distortion of the letters, no interrupted communication, no missing mail ... everyone seemed to have received something. If not an actual letter from a loved one, then at least, a copy of the news files which revealed all the various events of the past six years. It was more like it had been when she, B'Elanna and Chakotay had returned from the alpha quadrant, but even that had been subdued in comparison to this. Perhaps because the ship had believed the trio dead and the excitement of their return had been tempered by the lingering memory of that mourning. There was no sorrow now, however, only great joy and enthusiasm.

She entered the captain's quarters and was greeted by an enthusiastic Irish Setter. Either Jake had picked up on the crew's excitement somehow or he had not been taken for his daily outing. Seven suspected the latter and checked the chronometer. Janeway would not be home for a while, so Seven left a note for her, then took down the leash and beckoned the animal to accompany her, hooking one end to the collar about his neck. She could not expect him to heel properly when there was so much traffic in the corridors and she suspected that the 'park' would be full. So she took him down to the lowest deck of the ship which seemed fairly devoid of celebrating crew and let him loose, tossing his ball for him in a long, auxiliary corridor until he was panting and refused to give her the ball, dropping to his belly on the deck and gnawing on it.

"Time to return home," she told him, reattaching the leash.

The corridors were even busier now that the alpha shift was completely over, and she felt a bit crowded, reaching the sanctity of her quarters with a stifled sigh of relief. Janeway was at the workstation, downloading data into padds and Seven had a pretty good idea as to what information the captain was so avid to peruse. Janeway would not have read her letter before finishing her duty, not after requesting that her crew maintain their discipline about waiting until the end of their shifts. Her face was a bit anxious as she handed Seven one of the padds and then moved over to the couch. Seven hesitated long enough to release Jake, who went over to his water dish, lapping up the liquid gratefully, then she joined her spouse on the sofa.

Janeway regarded her, her eyes bright, but with a rueful expression on her face. "I'm too excited to read this," she said.

Seven raised an eyebrow. "Would you like me to read mine first?" she asked. "Out loud?"

"If you'd like," Janeway said, going for a tone of casualness, but only succeeding in conveying the distinct impression that she would like nothing better.

Seven smiled faintly and studied her padd.

"Apparently, it is from Phoebe," she informed her partner. She inhaled deeply and began to read: "Hey, Little Sister ..." She paused, "that is what she calls me."

Janeway smiled. "I know," she said quietly. She relaxed against the cushions and threw her head back, her eyes closed, obviously granting Seven her full listening attention, not wanting any of her other senses to distract her. Seven resumed her recitation, reading the text from the padd's tiny screen. With bandwidth from MIDAS still limited, the message was in written form alone, with no visual or oral accompaniment.

"Hey, Little Sister,
Mom is writing Kathryn so I thought I would write to you with all the news she will no doubt leave out. I have to tell you, we were really surprised when Starfleet delivered those letters from you a month ago. I don't know who was more excited, Mom or myself. I'm really flattered that you consider me family enough to choose me as one of the people you wrote to in your project. I will say, however, that if you would like me to contact your actual blood family, the Hansens, I'd be more than happy to do that for you. I think they would love to know how you're doing on Voyager since they last saw you."

Seven paused, frowning. "I do not believe I like that idea," she said. "I was not impressed with my relatives."

"You should still probably give it some thought," Janeway suggested gently. "They're your family, Annika, and you are the only link to the past that your grandparents have of Erin and Magnus."

Seven did not think her opinion would change but obligingly she dropped the subject and continued on with the letter.

"My showing went wonderfully and I appreciate that you were sorry you missed it, but, honestly, don't feel bad, Annika. All you really missed was a bunch of pseudo-intellectuals standing around making snarky comments on stuff they really didn't understand. You would have had no patience for them. Though hearing you dissect their flowery prose with your devastating logic would have been far more entertaining than the actual party.
I'm really glad to hear you're keeping busy on Voyager but are you sure you want to take Starfleet courses? Annika, I can hook you up with the Terran University of Art & Design where I teach courses on modern expressionism. I think that would be far more in tune with what you should be exploring as a form of study."

Seven frowned again. "Art courses?" she questioned.

Janeway's smile widened. "Phoebe tends to have little use for science, and in particular, Starfleet science," she said. She raised an eyebrow. "So Phoebe's teaching now? That's new." But she did not elaborate on the comment and Seven returned to her reading.

"In the meantime, I've sent along several stills of my latest work. I hope you can reproduce them and hang them on your walls. To be honest, your visit here was a great source of inspiration to me and I was able to produce several canvases which I called the Seven Series.
Starfleet has told us that they expect we will be able to send letters on a regular basis to you, even though we're restricted in the size of them and how many each person is allowed to send. Next time, Mom will be writing you and I'll write Kathryn. Let me know about contacting your grandparents for you. I love you, babe. You take care of yourself and my big sister. Don't let her get away with anything. Tell her that I love her, but don't make a big deal out of it. She'll only be insufferable about it.

-Phoebe"

Seven looked at the small thumbnail reproductions on the padd, seeing nothing more than several splashes of color. She realized that only by blowing them up to original size and reproducing them on hard copy, would she have a true sense of what they looked like. She glanced over at Janeway who had a rather blissful smile on her face. Indeed, it did seem that the captain had acquired a little bit of an insufferable air about her.

"Will you read your letter now?" Seven asked. She thought she was beginning to understand the appeal to receiving mail. It was almost as if Phoebe had been speaking to her and it made her feel very close to her sister-in-law at the moment.

Janeway passed over the padd. "Read it to me, please," she requested softly. It was almost as if Kathryn was nervous about the contents ... so nervous that she didn't want to face it directly.

Bemused, Seven accepted the padd and began to read from it.

"Dearest Kathryn,
When Starfleet Command delivered the letters from you and Annika, I must admit, I was greatly overwhelmed. For too long, it seemed that such communication from official channels contained only bad news, the last visit to Deep Space Nine, notwithstanding. I can't tell you how pleased and thrilled I was to read the letters you wrote to me. Yet, even as I did, I could not help but think that they were perhaps letters which you never intended to send. I cannot remember you ever being so open and forthcoming with your thoughts and dreams before, particularly in written form. Maybe I'm not giving you enough credit for how much you trust me, or perhaps being married to Annika has changed you far more than even I could have anticipated, but I do want you to know how very privileged and honored I feel to have received such deep and profound messages from you."

Seven cast a surreptitious glance at her partner to discover that Janeway was blushing deeply and she wondered what exactly had been in the letters Kathryn had sent to her mother ... and if Gretchen's speculation had been correct? Had the captain never really intended her mother to read the letters she had written?

"In any event, I hope that I can respond in kind. The thing between mothers and daughters is that one rarely gets to know the other as an individual, as another woman who very often share the same hopes, fears, dreams and aspirations as the other does. I especially appreciate your newfound desire to have children, Kathryn. I know once one finds the right person to love, one wants to expand that love to the new life that you can create together. It is an instinct that goes beyond the intellectual, it is a soul deep desire that one either has or does not. It is natural that you would also experience it, especially with all the newborns on your ship. I want you to know that I think you would be a wonderful mother. There is a great kindness and compassion about you that I believe you do not give yourself enough credit for and any child would only benefit from that.
And you're right, I've often worried in the past that you would choose an unsuitable romantic partner. Too often with the men you brought home, I experienced the sense that you were attempting to recreate something that did not really exist, that the relationship had much less to do with who these men were, but what they were in terms of personality and attitude ... and who they reminded you of. With Annika, I've finally lost that concern. It's clear that she has been a tremendous influence on you as well as being something to you that I don't think even you recognize. She's repaired a part of your soul that had been torn asunder and did it in a way that no one else could. I guess I was worried for nothing. Obviously, you knew exactly who and what you needed all along. I'm so happy for you. In the situation you're in, there could be no one better than Annika to help you through it. And no one better to love you for who you truly are.
I'm aware that command weighs heavily on you at times, just as it did your father. In a lot of ways, you were always more his child than mine. Yet, I also feel that you were able to get the best parts of him and avoid most of which caused him so much grief. I'm very grateful for that. I've also come to realize how much you suffered from your father's absences, sometimes, far more than even Phoebe and I did. I know that it made what eventually happened, even more traumatic for you. Kathryn, I hope you understand that I never blamed you for anything that happened. I never once thought that you had ever let me or Edward down. You were our joy and our pride and that has never changed since the day you were born.
I'm so proud of you, Kathryn. You have turned into a most remarkable and impressive being, far better than I, as your parent, could have hoped for. I love you dearly, and when you and Annika finally return, I intend to not only attend the renewal of your wedding vows, but to help plan every detail. Isn't that the privilege of a mother? Take good care of yourself, and tell Annika how much I love her. I will be writing to her in the next communication because we are limited in how many letters each individual could send as well as the length of the letters. I hope that will change in the future. There is so much I want to tell you. Phoebe also sends you her love. We both miss you very much.

-Mother"

Seven inhaled deeply when she finished and looked over at her partner. She did not understand everything that Gretchen had been referring to, but she trusted that Kathryn did ... especially when she saw the tears slipping silently down her spouse's cheeks. There was joy there, she recognized, but also a fair measure of sorrow and some unidentifiable emotion that the Borg would perhaps never really understand. Silently, she reached over and gathered Kathryn up in her arms, rocking her gently as the captain wept. Afterward, they sat together on the sofa for a long time, Janeway snuggled up to Seven's chest, her head tucked neatly under the Borg's chin. Idly, Seven stroked the auburn hair, not saying anything, but letting her partner know that she was there for her in every way she could be, emotionally, intellectually, physically, and spiritually.

Everything she was, she would give to Kathryn willingly, and never regret a single second of anything that was taken from her.

Epilogue

Captain Janeway regarded her computer as if it were an enemy, not knowing how to start her next task.  Her mother had surprised her, being far more open with her than Kathryn had ever experienced before, motivated no doubt, by all those very personal, highly intimate letters her daughter had sent  to her. One would think that all the captain had to do to respond was to continue in the same vein as she had been writing before, but now that Kathryn knew they would actually be read, she found it difficult to write.  She felt extremely self-conscious and couldn't find that ease with which she had shared her feelings only a week or so earlier.

Perhaps if she kept the subject to Seven, she decided. That was a topic she never tired of discussing and it was possible if she was effusive enough about her partner, her mother would not notice that she was not sharing anything in particular about herself.  She wondered if she should take some time to speak with Sek about this, shying away from the idea almost before it had finished formulating in her mind. That wouldn't work either, she decided without hesitation, not bothering to examine why the thought was so immediately negative to her.

She inhaled slowly and carefully reached out, touching her console to activate it.

"Dear Mother," she began, after clearing her throat which keyed the computer to begin recording. "It was so wonderful to hear from you after so long. I think I'm going to enjoy having you to talk to again, particularly when it comes to things that I can't talk to other people about. Let me explain to you what happened to Seven recently and perhaps you could give me some advice on how to help her. It seems that I am unable to be all I want to be for her and if you could find a way to ease my concerns, I would be forever grateful..."

The End

•  This is the 32nd installment in the Just Between series.

• It is my 'holodeck malfunction' story which every Trek series is apparently required to have and one that I had planned for a while ... but I will admit that Fair Haven had an undue affect on it as I wrote it.

• The title comes from Peggy.

• Thanks to those who directed me to sites with information about steamboats.

• Dedicated to my beta readers who had this dumped on them with little time to work on it. Thanks for coming through, guys.

• This was posted on February 4th, 2000.

Just Between Cigarettes, Whiskey
& Wild, Wild Women
G. L. Dartt

Captain Kathryn Janeway of USS Voyager regarded her reflection in the full length mirror of the dressing room, frowning faintly as she looked herself up and down. Her red and black Starfleet uniform had been replaced by a hoop-skirted dress in rich sapphire, complete with ruffles and a plunging neckline that showed off her shoulders and every bit of cleavage it could possibly manage. Beside her, also garbed in a similar dress, though deep wine in color, her chief of engineering made a few more adjustments and stared darkly at the captain.

"This is ridiculous," Lt. B'Elanna Torres grumbled.

Privately, Janeway agreed with her, but it was what the program required for appropriate costuming, and she had promised her spouse of almost a year that she would participate in a recreational afternoon on the holodeck. She just couldn't figure out what had possessed Seven of Nine to have chosen such a scenario. A Mississippi river boat working its way upstream to St. Louis in the late-nineteenth century was not the sort of thing Janeway thought Seven of Nine, late of the Borg Collective, would have the slightest interest.

At least, the captain thought critically as she swished her skirt a little, this wasn't the first time she had worn such garments, so that ought to prevent her from falling over her hoops and making a fool of herself. In the first year of Voyager being lost in the Delta Quadrant, one form of recreation for Janeway had been a gothic holo-novel, where she had become very used to moving in the wide skirts. They just hadn't been this wide, or the bodice, this ... scandalous. She wasn't particularly big on this particular period of ancient history, of course, but if memory served, women who wore these sort of dresses could be consider a certain 'type', and Janeway didn't know how she felt about that.

What could Seven have in mind? she thought darkly.

She glanced at the Klingon who was shifting uncomfortably in her dress.

"We might as well face the music," Janeway suggested, gesturing to the door. The combination locker/programming area was next to holodeck one, and the two women had only to step across the corridor to enter the program. Supposedly, Seven, and Lt. Ro Laren, B'Elanna's current paramour, were already in the scenario, waiting for them.

"So, how did you get involved in all this?" she added idly as she lifted her skirts and moved gracefully across the deck, ignoring the startled looks from two passing crewmembers.

"Seven," B'Elanna said with a gusty sigh, compacting a wealth of meaning in that single word. She did not move as gracefully as the captain, but fortunately, it did not appear as if she would have any real difficulty. "She thought it would be 'enjoyable to participate in an historical adventure'. It's one of the new programs which came through with the last communiqué with Starfleet and is supposed to be pretty popular with the crew, though Tom keeps trying to get everyone into the one he's running in holodeck two. He doesn't seem to be getting much support however."

"Do you have any idea what roles we're supposed to be portraying in this program?" the captain asked with a certain amount of trepidation as they entered the holodeck. She looked around as the doors shut with a clunk behind them and disappeared, leaving the two women in a fairly accurate reproduction of a waterfront in a big city on Earth's Mississippi River.

Next to the wharf, a gracious steamboat rocked gently, its large swinging landing stage lowered to the dock so that cargo could be loaded, along with passengers' baggage. Music from the calliope, high and melodic, floated over the sounds of the dockworkers who were wrestling bags of grain and bales of cotton up the ramp. On the bow, the name of the Delta Princess was painted proudly in a large, flowing script, while the fittings on the boat gleamed golden and silver in the sun. Beyond the riverboat, the large expanse of water, the waterway of America, passed with stately ease, barring the way to the West but allowing passage at the same time, its placid waters navigable to those riverboat pilots so admired by Mark Twain.

It was a good program, Janeway allowed as she took in her surroundings. The better the program, the more attention to detail was given by the creators, and this was greatly detailed in order to affect all the player's senses. The captain could feel a steady breeze on her face from the water, while the sun was bright as it poured down from a cloudless, azure sky. The combination of heat and humidity actually made her a bit uncomfortable in her layered garments as she and her chief engineer crossed the docks. There was the steady thrum of voices from all the people occupied in various tasks, and above them, the piping cries of birds sounded. A great many horses moved about the area, and the thud of their hoofs on wood and cobblestones made an interesting, audible counterpoint to the rest. Tickling the captain's nostrils was the sour-salt fragrance of a working waterfront, not precisely unpleasant, but not anything with which Janeway was particularly familiar.

"You're a gambler."

Startled, Janeway looked at B'Elanna, who was looking over the bustling scenario with tentative enthusiasm.

"Excuse me?"

B'Elanna glanced at her and grinned faintly, showing sharp edged teeth. Half-Human, half-Klingon, the young woman was known for her feisty temper and aggressive behavior, and apparently, this part of the scenario met with her approval at least.

"You're a cardshark," she explained. "There's a poker game on this boat and the best players, east and west of the Mississippi, have been brought together to play in a winner-take-all, poker tournament. I'm your secretary."

Janeway blinked at her. "Are you sure?" she said doubtfully. "This doesn't sound like the sort of thing Seven would be interested in."

B'Elanna shrugged. "I don't think she's playing a gambler," she explained. "Ro has decided to play one of the boat's security people. She supposed to guard the tournament money, which is stashed in a safe in the Grand Salon. The main lounge is also where the tournament is being held. Being able to utilize a projectile weapon is one of the required traits of the character, so she's happy. I didn't get much chance to talk to her over breakfast, however ... the messhall was too busy."

If there was the faintest trace of bitterness in the tone at the last, Janeway decided to overlook it. She was quite cognizant of the fact that not all was well in the romantic relationship between the Klingon and the Bajoran. Even if she hadn't been the sort to keep her finger on the pulse of her ship, Seven was quite ready to share all the lower deck scuttlebutt with the captain over their dinners together. However, it wasn't her place to comment on it, either as B'Elanna's captain, or as her friend. Janeway did wonder, however, if Seven had some subtle plan afoot that the captain was unaware of. The Borg was not particularly known for being subtle, but she and B'Elanna were the best of friends, and if Seven thought she could somehow help the engineer's relationship by involving them all in some holoprogram, she'd do it in a minute. Janeway resolved to pull her young spouse aside as soon as she had the opportunity and ask some pointed questions about what exactly was going on here.

Speaking of her partner, Seven and Lt. Ro Laren chose that moment to come around a large stack of feed bags. Janeway's eyebrow began a slow progression up her forehead as she got her first view of her spouse's costume. Unlike B'Elanna and the captain, Seven and Ro were dressed in the 'male' clothing of this time period: dark shirts beneath tanned leather vests, denim trousers and boots with distinctively pointed toes. Both wore wide brimmed hats that rounded out their ensemblé, curved up at the sides, to shade their eyes. Seven had her mass of blonde hair tucked up under hers, giving her a boyish appearance. Strapped around her waist, low on her hips, she wore a black, tooled gunbelt, the ornate holsters containing two, pearl-handled Colt 45's. Her slender build was vaguely like a male, but nothing could disguise the full bosom beneath the shirt. Janeway wondered resentfully if Seven could wear an outfit which looked far more comfortable than a hoop skirt, then why couldn't she, as well?

But she had to admit that her partner looked ... well, very sexy in the outfit, particularly in the way the Borg swaggered slightly as she walked across the dock, silver spurs clinking cheerfully on her booted heels.

"Ladies," the captain greeted, with a certain amount of reserve as the two joined them.

"Not ladies," Ro said sardonically. "In this program, Seven and I are perceived as men."

Janeway resisted the urge to roll her eyes and then noted that Seven's gaze was pinned on her chest. The young woman was frowning slightly.

"Kathryn, are you injured?"

Baffled, Janeway shook her head. "I'm fine," she replied. "Why?"

"You seem ... swollen," Seven said with a certain amount of concern. "I know what size your breasts are and those are much larger."

Janeway blushed furiously, B'Elanna choked down a snort of laughter and Ro developed an intense interest in the Delta Princess.

"No, Seven," Janeway said, patiently. "It's just how the dress makes them appear." Since Seven was approaching this as a medical concern and not a sexual one, she had no clue that her words and actions could be considered inappropriate in extended company. Certainly, Janeway didn't want to start this recreational period off by squashing her partner's honest concern. But god, sometimes Seven doesn't always consider the image of my rank, she thought ruefully. At this point in their relationship, Janeway didn't think much of anything could embarrass her ever again.

"Indeed?" the Borg said, with evident interest. "They have not been artificially enhanced by the program?"

"No, Seven," Janeway said, her voice so dry it sucked the humidity from the air around her. "They're all mine. They've just been ... lifted and pressed together. Not comfortably either."

By this time, Seven had moved closer to get a better look and was peering intently down at them, her nose a scant few millimeters from the defined crease as she examined the generous swells, apparently trying to discover how the effect was created. B'Elanna had turned away, her shoulders shaking silently as Ro busily chewed on her bottom lip. Janeway sighed.

"Seven," she said in a louder tone, "What's the purpose of this program? I know I'm supposed to be a gambler of some sort." She paused. "I don't think I'm that good a card player."

Nicely diverted, Seven straightened and regarded her partner. "The program will adapt to your skill level," she explained. "In the beginning, you will be fed the proper cards to get past the first round. All you need to know is how the different combinations are valued and bet accordingly."

"What made you pick this program?" B'Elanna asked, wiping her eyes with a lace handkerchief.

Seven brightened. "It includes gambling, which Kathryn likes, it has weapons, which you appreciate, it has intrigue, which Ro will enjoy, and the scenery along the river is pleasant, which appeals to me," she said. "Lt. Paris recommended the 'Irish village' program he has been working on for the past six months, but I felt this would be more suitable for the four of us and provide more entertainment."

"Why am I here?" B'Elanna asked pointedly, before Janeway could object to her partner's assessment of her love for gambling. "What does a gambler need with a secretary?"

"Your true role is to find out information about the other players for Kathryn," Seven responded promptly. "There is supposed to be 'a mystery' in this scenario which you may be instrumental in uncovering."

"What do I do beyond guarding the money?" Ro asked shortly.

Seven frowned. "I am not entirely sure of your role," she said. "I do know that it also has to do with the 'intrigue' portion of the game."

"I'm sure the program will take care of revealing things to our characters as we need to know them," Janeway offered. "If the role was offered to be filled, there's probably a good reason for it."

"Couldn't I play an engineer instead?" B'Elanna asked hopefully.

Seven frowned at her. "The riverboat's engineer is not offered as a role and that is probably a good thing," she explained. "The steam-driven boats, as this is, were very vulnerable to boiler explosions. That made the engineer extremely important because he was usually the only one who knew about the pressure required to run the engines and the delicate balance between speed and safety. As a result, you would need to spend all your time down in the engine room, monitoring the gauges."

B'Elanna lifted a brow. "And that would be a bad thing?" she argued mildly.

"You will enjoy this," Seven said firmly. "These characters provide the most pivotal roles in the scenario."

"If you say so," B'Elanna said, seemingly unconvinced. She looked somewhat enviously at the two revolvers strapped to Seven's hips. "What's with the weapons, Seven?"

"I am Kathryn's bodyguard," Seven explained and drew the gun on her left side. She twirled it, aimed, shot the tip off a flagpole on a nearby building, twirled it again, then slipped it back into the holster with one smooth motion. B'Elanna was tremendously dazzled and even Ro seemed suitably impressed. Janeway frowned.

"Why didn't you draw both weapons?" she asked pointedly. "What is the purpose of having two?"

Seven regarded her, a faint pink appearing in her cheeks. "It was not required that I draw both," she said, and the captain had the unmistakable impression that she was avoiding the question.

"Wow, those tricks must look even more impressive with two, then," B'Elanna said insistently, her face alight with interest. "Show me."

Seven did not looked pleased at the demand, but obligingly, she drew her guns. Or at least, she attempted to. The barrel of the right caught on the holster, snagging in the leather and in trying to get it loose, she dropped it onto the dock where it discharged ... luckily in a direction where no one was standing. A small hole appeared in the nearby feedbag, and a golden stream of grain began to pour from the opening.

"I am more adept with my implant, which can be programmed by my cranial implant, than I am in actual manipulation with my real hand," Seven admitted as she picked up the gun and carefully placed it in her holster.

Janeway restrained her smile, aware that she had inadvertently put her partner on the spot. B'Elanna was not so circumspect or nearly as sympathetic, laughing uproariously in a bent over position as she held onto her ribs. Noting that Seven looked vaguely humiliated, Janeway patted her partner comfortingly on her forearm.

"Just remember to stay away from your right hand if you have to shoot anyone," she suggested gently. She did not mention that if Seven didn't, she'd be as apt to shoot herself in the foot as anyone who might be threatening the client she was guarding. "No one will be able to out-draw you on the left side."

Seven looked considerably cheered by her spouse's words and resumed some of her swaggering pose on the dock, raising her chin imperiously.

The Bajoran cleared her throat. "Can we get this thing started?" Ro asked. "We only have the afternoon."

"You should go on board first," Janeway noted, deciding that as long as she was here, she might as well participate to the best of her ability. "Since you work for our host and probably aren't supposed to know us, we'll simply have to figure out your role as we go. B'Elanna, you go in with her and take your place, mingle with the crowd, find out what you have to about the other players. Seven and I will make our grand entrance a little later." She noted the expression of pleasure in her partner's face at the captain's obvious willingness to play along and felt a warmth spread through her, realizing not for the first time, how important her opinion was to Seven.

Ro, on the other hand, did not quite roll her eyes, but the captain knew she wanted to as the other couple took their leave. Janeway had been very much surprised that the Bajoran had agreed to cooperate with this scenario in the first place, but then, who really knew what went on in that steel-trap mind of her command candidate at any given moment? For now, Janeway was content to take Seven's arm and allow herself to be escorted toward the riverboat, seizing the opportunity to have a few moments alone with her spouse.

"So," she asked pointedly as they made their way up the gangplank, "what are you up to, Seven of Mine?"

Seven swallowed hard, reminding herself sternly that what Janeway did not notice was usually by choice rather than because she was oblivious of it. Nonetheless, the Borg attempted her most innocent expression.

"Up to?" she repeated, with suitable blankness.

Janeway shot her a sharp glance from beneath her lashes as she walked beside her, obviously not accepting the Borg's attempt at avoiding the question. Preceding them down the corridor, the cabin boy leading them to their cabin, carried their baggage that had been waiting for them on the pier. That left the captain free to give Seven her complete and undivided attention.

"You know what I mean," the captain remarked, not letting her partner off the hook. She carried her parasol folded up, swinging it like a walking stick rather than gracefully resting it over her shoulder as the other females were doing in the program. "You're planning something with B'Elanna and Ro ... I can feel it."

Seven restrained a sigh. "Nothing concrete, Kathryn," she admitted. "But I am hoping that spending recreational time together will ease whatever is causing conflict between them."

"Annika, you shouldn't meddle in other people's romantic situations," Janeway warned.

Seven blinked. "That is an outrageous statement coming from you," she said pointedly, "considering your past history."

"And how often was I really successful?" Janeway retorted, not denying the accusation, but not allowing it to stymie her either. "Darling, romantic projects have a way of turning out badly."

Seven placed her right hand over the one Janeway had resting on the Borg's left forearm. "I thought I was one of your more successful projects," she teased, hoping this would divert her partner.

Janeway frowned. "That's different."

"How?"

"It just is."

Seven did not snort exactly, but she hoped that her demeanor made it obvious that she was not impressed with the captain's response.

"Fine," Janeway said stubbornly, her expression indicating that she had received Seven's meaning loud and clear. "But don't come running to me when it blows up in your face. Emotions are not anything to play with, Annika."

Seven squeezed the captain's fingers gently. "I am aware of that, Kathryn," she said in a milder voice. "I am not 'playing', I am merely offering the opportunity for the pair of them to interact in a setting for entertainment. I know that having 'fun' can sometimes bring people closer together. It does for us."

Janeway seemed to consider that, her expression growing softer. "You're right," she admitted finally, with a bit of a sigh. "That's partially why I agreed to spend this afternoon with you. I know how important it is for us to 'play' together whenever we can." She offered her partner a brief smile. "I know you want to help B'Elanna, darling. Just don't be disappointed if it doesn't work out the way you expect."

"I will not," Seven responded. She was aware of her partner observing her closely, the level grey eyes shading to a lighter bluish tint.

"You have such a good heart, my love," Janeway said, her voice becoming a caress. "I adore you utterly."

Seven felt her cheeks grow warm. "It is not part of my role as your bodyguard to kiss you," she informed her. "Or I would."

The captain arched her brow. "Maybe we can remedy that once we're in my suite," she suggested. "After all, a wild woman like me obviously doesn't hire a bodyguard simply based on one's ability with a weapon."

"A 'wild woman'?" Seven repeated, quirking her brow. "Explain."

Janeway's reply was forestalled by the cabin boy, who took that moment to indicate that they had reached the suite of 'Miss Kate', and the couple entered as the youngster, his task done, scooted off to some unknown destination. The room Janeway and Seven entered was luxuriously appointed, if primitive, with a large bed and another door that Seven obligingly checked out in her role as 'bodyguard'. It turned out to be an ensuite of some sort, though its fixtures were somewhat unfamiliar to her.

"Kathryn?" she queried.

The captain came over and peered around her spouse, smiling. "Creative programming, Seven," she explained. "Technically, in the 19th century, one would use a chamber pot and a basin for ablutions. But most holodeck participants don't really enjoy that sort of awkwardness, so a more modern ensuite has been added." She pointed at the low, squat porcelain bowl. "That's the waste disposal unit. Over there is the sink, with running water no doubt. They obviously tried to make it look archaic, at least."

Seven regarded this, tilting her head slightly. "This must operate on the same principal as Jake's devices do," she said. "And prevents the participant from having to exit the holodeck in the event of ... biological necessities."

"Exactly," Janeway said. "Of course, these programs can be set for absolute accuracy, but I know very few people who actually want to live in primitive conditions; they just want to pretend for a limited amount of time."

There was a brief jolt beneath their feet and looking out the nearest porthole, they discovered the boat was drifting away from the wharf. The paddlewheel made itself felt through a steady sort of thump which one was able to ignore after a few moments as it blended into the background.

"We're off," Janeway noted, somewhat unnecessarily. She glanced at her spouse. "How long do we have?"

"By coordinating all of our holodeck time," Seven explained, "I was able to secure four hours."

"Then we should probably get started," Janeway said, then paused, smiling impishly at her partner. "But before we do, there is the matter of a kiss?"

Seven raised an eyebrow but obligingly reached out for her partner, enfolding her in her arms. After a brief struggle with the hoop skirt and the gunbelt, requiring a few adjustments, they were able to arrange themselves into a position where they could embrace comfortably. Seven looked down into her partner's classic features, smiling faintly as she saw the shade of the captain's eyes ... a deep blue ... and gently covered Janeway's mouth with her own.

A blissful eternity later, Seven finally drew back, regarding her spouse avidly. Janeway had her eyes closed, a half-smile ghosting over her lips. "Suddenly," the captain said huskily, "I'm enjoying this program a lot more."

"I am glad," Seven said sincerely.

Janeway opened her eyes, searching the Borg's face. "You are remarkably attractive in that outfit," she added. "You should know that."

"Indeed?" Seven was pleased. "That was not my intention when choosing it, but I gladly welcome such an observation."

"Well, it's good for a wild woman to have a sexy bodyguard," Janeway told her. "It fits the image."

"That is the second time you have referred to yourself in those terms," Seven noted. "Elaborate."

Janeway smiled. "Darling, women in this era did not habitually participate in poker games, or for that matter, make themselves present in such a male-dominated type of situation unless they were the type of women to have 'loose morals'."

"'Loose morals'?" Seven was further confused.

"I'm portraying a woman of questionable class," Janeway explained. "I probably spend my own money, choose my own friends, drink, smoke, have intimate contact out of wedlock..."

Seven blinked. "You have always done that," she pointed out. "Except for the smoking part." She paused. "I do not like it when you smoke."

Janeway laughed. "I know, but in this time period, it was considered unsuitable for women to act like that. Only men were allowed to conduct themselves that way."

"You mean, with free will?"

"Exactly," Janeway said. She lost her humor for a moment. "In fact, women were not even allowed to vote in what was considered this 'great democracy'."

"That is horrible," Seven burst out. "We should not participate in this scenario."

Janeway patted her arm comfortingly. "We're just pretending, Annika," she said. "You should know however, that as a woman who is obviously rich, independent and 'wild', I will probably be treated a certain way." She paused. "You can't shoot someone just because they offend you or me. That would make us lose the game."

Seven nodded. "Very well," she said unhappily.

"Darling, don't take it so seriously," Janeway told her. "Like the ensuite, there will, no doubt, be variations for the comfort level of the participants. It's just a holoprogram." She smiled. "And it's good for us, every so often, to look back and see how far we Humans have evolved from our primitive beginnings."

Seven wasn't entirely convinced, but she allowed herself to be soothed by her spouse, especially since it was too late to set up another scenario. Their only real choice would be to cancel the program and try to reschedule the holodeck for another day or attempt to join Lt. Paris's program. She really didn't want to do either, particularly since the captain seemed so willing to participate in this one. Janeway could not get away from her duties for an entire afternoon very often and Seven was not ready to waste this opportunity. Frowning, the Borg hitched up her gunbelt and pulled her hat tighter over her eyes, aware of the captain observing her with amusement.

"We need to proceed to the Grand Salon," Seven explained to her. "That is where the tournament will take place. You have already paid your entry fee and the chips will be waiting for you." She paused. "Do we need to review the rules of poker?"

"I know how to play poker," Janeway said with a certain amount of satisfaction. "And since you're telling me the cards are going to go my way, at least at first, this ought to be a lot more fun that the games I took part in during my Academy days."

Seven felt a sudden qualm as she realized that Janeway appeared to be looking forward to this a bit more than the Borg had anticipated. She wondered if she had just uncovered another questionable habit of her partner and stifled a sigh as they left the suite. As they headed out onto the deck, Seven offered her right arm to the captain, who graciously took it, leaving the Borg's left hand free in case she needed to 'draw'.

The lounge they entered was large, with windows lining the bulkheads to reveal a view of the Mississippi flowing grandly around them. Some were open to let in the scent of magnolia as the delicate lace curtains wafted in the cooling breeze which passed into the room. A large crowd thronged the salon, far more men than women, and the couple easily spotted B'Elanna as she worked her way through the crowd toward them.

"Lieutenant," Janeway greeted, her voice laden with amusement. "Having a good time?"

"I've been propositioned twelve times, threatened twice and generally sneered at by six of the passenger's wives," the engineer informed her. "All in all, I'd rather be your bodyguard, Captain. Then I could sneer back at some of these people and not get thrown out of the program."

"What did you learn of the other players?" Seven insisted, ignoring her friend's digression. In truth, this was a perfect role for B'Elanna who was adept at ferreting out information ... though many considered such a skill one of gossip rather than data finding.

B'Elanna sighed and motioned with her head. "From what I can tell, you only have four real competitors," she said. "The first is Colonel Summers. He's the guy with the pointy beard, dressed all in white. For some reason, he smells like fried chicken to me, but rumor has it that he's not as genteel as he likes to put on ... nor is he really a colonel. I do know that there's a spring loaded blade at the end of the cane he uses, because he was showing it off to some women. Someone else told me that he had made his money on the black market during the 'war' and  in Alabama, shot a man for trying to hold an ace up his sleeve, even though the other player was unarmed."

"What war?" Seven asked.

"The civil war between the northern and southern American states," Janeway explained gently. "It's irrelevant to this scenario, but will probably be referred to now and again by the other characters. Even though, in this time frame, it has been over for quite some time, it's still keenly felt in particular geographical areas. Indeed, there are even some places on Earth in the 24th Century that still refer to it."

"The woman across the room is called Ruby Lil," B'Elanna continued, nodding at a fleshy woman with thick, raven hair piled high on her head. She was dressed in red and her face displayed innate intelligence, though the eyes were a little too knowing and worn from age. "She's supposedly retired and living off her wealth from running a 'house' of some kind in Washington, DC." She paused, puzzled. "Everyone seemed to say 'house' in a certain manner as if they expected me to recognize what they meant. I played along, but I have no idea what they were talking about."

Janeway didn't say anything either, but Seven had the unmistakable impression that the captain knew exactly what the inflection on 'house' referred to. It occurred to the Borg that Janeway was quite familiar with certain historical periods of Earth's history, mostly because of the 'romance' novels the captain read extensively; a secret vice that only Seven was aware of and that this must be one of those periods. Seven was glad that at least one of them had a certain amount of cultural knowledge. It would make the game more enjoyable if they didn't continually make temporal errors and thus force the program to try to adapt to their mistakes. It would 'play smoother', this way.

"The tall, dark man over in the corner is Michael Sullivan," B'Elanna explained, indicating a ruggedly handsome man, who was keeping to himself. He was dressed in a black suit which was finely cut, and he had a thin cigar clamped between his teeth. "He's from Ireland, pretty smooth, a charming sort of guy ... he's one of the ones who propositioned me, but unlike the others, he utilized a little imagination with it and took the refusal charmingly. But someone told me he carried a small revolver in his jacket and has been known to use it." The engineer shot a look at the captain. "You might want to make a point of not being alone with him, however. His type can get you to do things before you really know what you're doing."

Janeway smiled thinly. "I know the type," she allowed.

Seven frowned.

"The last guy is James Brophy," B'Elanna concluded, tilting her head at a bookish, balding man standing near a long table. "He doesn't look like much, but he's supposed to be a really amazing accountant. He figures the odds really well and bets accordingly. He might not kill you physically, but he'll strip you financially bare in a matter of minutes if he gets on a run." She paused. "There's something about him that sets my teeth on edge, though. I don't like his eyes. He's like a Human version of a Ferengi."

"I'll take that under advisement," Janeway said dryly. "Is that all the players?"

"There are twenty others," B'Elanna explained, nodding at crowd. "But those are the ones you need to keep an eye on. Chances are, you'll all end up at the center table in the final round."

"I understand," Janeway said. She rubbed her hands together, her eyes alight. "So when do we get started?"

She had barely finished her sentence when a man with considerable bulk hefted himself up onto the dais, in front of the safe where Ro Laren stood guard. Seven thought the Bajoran looked bored and she hoped the lieutenant would not leave the scenario before it really became involved. The man raised his hands, and the murmur of conversation in the room faded and died.

"Welcome to the first, annual Delta Princess Poker Championship," he said, with an accent which Seven could not identify. "I'm your host, Beau Jennings, and it's time to get this show underway. All the entry fees have been paid and the chips are waiting at the table for our players. There's no time limit and while a player may withdraw at any time, the remaining portion of the initial entry fee will not be refunded. Players are expected to withdraw when they are out of chips or acceptable currency. No credit will be extended. There are three elimination rounds with the top two players going on to compete in the next one."

"So the chips we're playing with for the first $5000 are really his," Janeway noted cynically. "When they're gone, you have to start putting in more of your own money if you want to stay in." She nodded. "Where's the sponsor part?"

"He's providing the boat," B'Elanna remarked. "The food, the drink ... the invitation to the best players around."

"The winner," Jennings continued. "Will be the last one standing and that gentleman... or lady... will be awarded an additional grand prize of $10,000."

Seven did the math. Considering the amount of players, even allowing for the hiring of the boat, Mr. Jennings was still walking away with a considerable profit ... indeed, a virtual fortune in this time period. She wondered why these professional gamblers and idle rich would have agreed to such a deal, and then noticed the light of competition that was reflected on many of the faces in the crowd ... that same sense of anticipation that Janeway displayed. However, there was undoubtedly something more to the scenario than the mere competition of the tournament. Why, for example, did Janeway's character require a bodyguard? Seven puzzled over it as she followed Janeway deeper into the room, the women mingling with the crowd as the Borg made a point of always keeping close to the captain's elbow.

She was surprised when she glanced out the nearest window and noticed that it was abruptly night. Apparently, time was being compressed by the program, and she was curious as to the reason.

Too many questions, Seven decided. She would just have to wait to find out the answers, thus discovering that she was feeling a certain sense of anticipation herself.

Harry Kim leaned back in the command chair on the bridge and tried not to look as satisfied with himself as he felt. After all, it wasn't that often that he got to take the conn in the middle of the alpha shift. He had many opportunities to cover the gamma ... or the graveyard shift, as most called it ... rotation, but rarely the alpha shift with the senior staff members on duty. Indeed, normally it would be Tuvok who should be sitting here as the senior officer, but the Vulcan had declined, wanting to work on drills for his security team which he was monitoring through the tactical station. He had not wanted to be distracted by holding the conn at the same time. Of course, Chakotay was off-duty in order to cover the later shift this rotation, and aft of the command level, Susan Nicoletti was covering ops, but Tom Paris was still covering the helm. Being able to sit behind the sandy-haired helmsman and know he would have to follow any orders Harry might give him if he so chose, was rather pleasant for the young lieutenant.

"Status," he said crisply.

"Same as it was twenty minutes ago," Tom said, amusement and a little exasperation lacing his tone. "Will you quit asking, Harry?"

"It's my duty to know what's going on with the ship," Harry responded primly.

"Then look at the damn monitor next to your chair," Tom suggested. "That's what it's there for."

"Mr. Paris is correct, if otherwise unacceptable in his manner toward the commanding bridge officer," Tuvok noted, without looking up from his station. "It is illogical to keep interrupting your bridge crew to be given information that could more easily and quickly be discovered on the monitor, Mr. Kim."

Harry felt properly quashed, but he forced himself not to react to the Vulcan's comment. After all, he was the one who was in command. However, he did resolve to wait at least thirty minutes before he asked for another update. He inhaled slowly and tried not to twitch. The disadvantage of working the alpha shift, of course, was that he just wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. At the ops station, he would be constantly busy, and when taking the command chair during the gamma shift, he could relax, joke and talk with the rest of the covering bridge staff who were ranked below him. With the alpha shift, however, he was more acutely aware of his position, and felt considerably more anxious, as if he should be doing something important, even if he wasn't sure what that was.

He tried to remember how Janeway covered the bridge, always sitting in her chair with elegant ease, her face placid, her legs usually crossed casually, even in the most extreme of emergencies. How often had he glanced at her during a crisis and immediately felt himself calm perceptively when he viewed that controlled demeanor? He wondered if she would share her secret of maintaining her command mask with him if he asked.

Perhaps he could even make it worth her while, he decided. There was a time when he never would have imagined the captain as being the sort of person who would confide in him, but since she and Seven had started babysitting Harry's son every so often, she had seemed more approachable to him. And certainly far more Human, becoming flustered on more than one occasion while looking after the baby, who admittedly, could be considered a little bit of a terror, particularly since he had learned to crawl. Maybe they could swap data, Harry thought, Janeway's tricks regarding command for his tips on how to herd the youngling about one's quarters and not lose half the decor in the process.

He spared a thought for his little boy who was with some other Voyager children in Safe Haven, being looked after by assigned caretakers while the parents were on duty. It was a bustling area with three or four youngsters present at any given time, and sometimes when he dropped by, either to pick up or drop off his son, he was always struck by the thought that it might be fun to have another child as soon as possible. Then, he thought about his wife, Megan Delaney, who was currently working in astrophysics, and that idea died a quick death. She loved her son, but her career was as important to her as Harry's was to him, and two children really would require one of them to leave the alpha shift to provide the proper care. Harry didn't want to, and he knew Megan didn't either so they would just have to wait until they returned to the Alpha Quadrant.

Megan had temporarily transferred over to ship operations when they first started dating, but when she became pregnant after a mutated virus had swept through the ship, disabling the crew's birth control implants, she and Harry had decided to get married. Living and working together all the time turned out to be a bit much, so Megan had returned to the department where her twin sister, Jennifer, also worked. That gave the couple some proper distance throughout the day, and made seeing each other at night all the more special.

Harry discovered he had a rather silly grin on his face and wiped it off. Being married and becoming a father had done wonders for his personal life, and now that Voyager was in regular contact with the Federation, he had decided that it was time to start looking at developing his career. Even he couldn't stay a lieutenant forever and if they made it back to the Alpha Quadrant within the next year or so ... as most of the crew apparently now felt was a done deal ... it behooved him to start preparing for what that entailed. He loved Voyager and was proud to serve Captain Janeway, but the fact remained that prior to getting stuck in the Delta Quadrant, he had certain career goals as a Starfleet officer that he was still young enough to aspire to. That meant a transfer to bigger and hopefully more challenging things than covering ops on an Intrepid-class Scout vessel.

Even command wasn't that far out of the question. He knew that Janeway herself, had not decided on that course until she was in her late twenties. He still had plenty of time.

Captain Harry Kim. It had a real nice ring to it, and the truth was, now that he had a son to provide for, there was a part of him that needed to be someone Little Harry would be proud of.

"Picking up something here," Tom Paris said, abruptly.

Jolted out of his thoughts, Harry straightened in the chair so quickly that he felt a twinge in his lower back. He swallowed hard and managed what he hoped was a completely even tone.

"Could you be more specific?" He was rather proud of that one.

"It is a spatial anomaly," Tuvok reported, having immediately switched over from his monitoring of his drills to that of the exterior sensors. "A class four nebula with an unusual energy discharge." He paused. "Perhaps we should contact the captain."

"It's just a nebula, Tuvok," Paris noted. "Do we need to call for help every time something different appears in space? All we have to do is go into it a few thousand kilometers, run some scans for astrophysics and save the visuals for anyone who missed it. Then we'll continue on our course, without having to call a red alert."

Tuvok looked faintly annoyed and Harry decided that this was precisely his moment to show that he was really in command.

"Mr. Paris is correct," Harry said, confidently. "I think we can handle this. Why disturb the captain on her afternoon off or Chakotay who is probably asleep, when we don't have to? Proceed with full scans into the nebula."

He was quite pleased when everyone complied without any further questions.

Janeway decided that she was actually enjoying herself. The first round of the tournament was over with her doing quite well, winning her table easily. The chips were stacked high by the time she and the second place finisher had sent the other players packing. It did seem that the program was shading the cards her way, and her 'lucky' streak garnered some attention, including a few dark looks from certain of the other players, particularly those who quickly lost their entry fees to her as well as any additional funds they could manage. To complement her chips, Janeway now had in her possession several items of male jewelry ... watches, cufflinks and rings ... two deeds, one to a mansion in Atlanta and the other to a plantation in New Orleans, as well as the sole ownership of twelve horses of 'fine blood'. It was a situation that accorded her a great deal of smug satisfaction, and she stifled a grin as she wormed her way through the crowd, looking for her companions. It was interesting how old skills, sitting idle for years, had reawakened with such little effort, she decided, and she was sure she had won some games entirely on her own without the computer's input, utilizing timely bluffing and astute play.

Of course, once the program determined her skill level, it would naturally adapt to meet the demands of the scenario. It would no doubt grow harder in future rounds. In the meantime, however, it was providing all sorts of entertainment as she headed for the buffet offered to the players and spectators. Seven and B'Elanna were already there, fully indulging themselves with 'hush puppies', jumbalaya, okra, grits, corn bread and a host of other 'southern' dishes. The unique aspect of holographic food was while it tasted accurate ... and frequently delicious ... it was still made up of light and photons, making it literally calorie free. One could eat and eat and literally starve to death in a holodeck, something that made the device perfect for maintaining one's optimum weight if one had a genetic trait for overeating. For real nutrition, however, the Voyager crew would have to leave the holodeck or make a special request through the replication system. For now, it was just fun for Janeway to nibble and 'fool' her stomach into thinking it was being filled.

Janeway turned her head as she became aware of Ro standing beside her. The officer had appeared almost as if from thin air, and with an effort, the captain forced herself not to start abruptly.

"Laren," she greeted quietly.

"There's something going on here," Ro said, in a very low voice. She was turned away, looking in another direction, and was speaking out of the corner of her mouth. "Within the boundaries of this scenario, of course. I think my role is a little more significant than I thought. I'll need to talk with you all privately, at some point."

Her interest piqued, Janeway raised an eyebrow. "Understood," she said, and moved over to where Seven and B'Elanna were, leaving Ro to melt back into the crowd.

"You know, I have to admit, 'Miss Kate', that this is a lot more entertaining than I thought it would be," B'Elanna said as she wiped her fingers on a napkin. "Who knew a card game could be so much fun to watch? I thought that guy would swallow his tongue when you laid out that full house and took the pot ... along with his 'granddaddy's gold watch'."

Janeway smiled faintly. "I have to say, I'm having a good time as well," she said. She touched Seven on the elbow and the Borg turned to her briefly. "This was a good choice, Seven."

The Borg beamed and Janeway realized how little it took from her to make her partner happy. She resolved to do more of it in the future.

"I do believe there's more going on here, than just a poker tournament, though," B'Elanna added, scooping up some potato salad as she resumed the conversation with the captain. "I keep hearing people talk about certain 'financial difficulties' that Jennings has been having. It must be significant if it keeps popping up as a topic of conversation."

Janeway nodded. "Agreed," she said. "Ro also mentioned that she wants to meet with us as soon as we have the opportunity. Apparently she's uncovered something as well." Her attention was abruptly taken by a young woman who had appeared next to the Borg, and was gazing up into Seven's face with what could only be considered amorous interest.

"So tell me," the young woman said breathlessly, her chest heaving accordingly. This was possibly a daughter of one of the spectators, very fresh, pleasant and absolutely chock full of Southern charm. "Why do they call you 'Seven'?"

To Janeway's great surprise and amusement, Seven responded to the query by pulling her Stetson lower over her pale eyes and attempting to look dangerous. "It happened in Dodge, 'Miss Maggie'," Seven revealed, obviously drawing on the cover story the computer had contrived for her. "That is the total number of 'varmints' who ambushed me in a 'shoot-out'. I was required to terminate them with my 'shooting irons'. I have been called Seven ever since the day they carried seven 'pine boxes' up 'Boot Hill'."

Janeway covered her mouth with her hand. It would not do to laugh, especially since the Borg was attempting so hard to play her role, but the captain was very hard-pressed at that moment to maintain her composure. The young ingenue fluttered and cooed, obviously impressed with the story, or perhaps it was Seven herself in that gunslinger outfit. Janeway lost a certain amount of her amusement as 'Maggie' then placed her hands on the Borg's biceps and pressed her abundant cleavage against Seven's chest, saying something to her that the captain could not quite hear, but put a certain amount of pink in her spouse's cheeks.

"Ahem, Seven," Janeway said to the vaguely startled Borg. "I need you to ... uh, check out something for me." She glared at the Southern belle, and faced with the intensity of a Janeway red-hot, level-ten command 'look', the young woman quickly made her excuses and found another place in the room to be.

B'Elanna, who had been watching this with bright eyes, snickered. "It's just a hologram, Captain."

"She was bothering Seven," Janeway said primly.

"She was not bothering me," Seven corrected immediately. She paused, and added thoughtfully, "But she was considerably more tactile than was required for our conversation."

"That's 'cause she wasn't having the same conversation that you were having," B'Elanna told her friend. Then she batted her eyelashes mockingly. "Ooh Seven, 'varmints'?"

"It is what the computer instructed me to reveal if anyone asked about my unusual designation," Seven responded evenly. She quirked an eyebrow at Janeway. "Were you jealous, Kathryn?"

Janeway pursed her lips. "Not at all," she lied.

Seven's pale blue eyes narrowed skeptically, but she did not pursue it, for which Janeway was suitably grateful. The captain breathed a sigh of relief and turned around, running directly into the suited expanse of Michael Sullivan, who caught her gracefully in his arms.

"Now where's a pretty little filly like you off to in such a hurry," he asked in a soft, Irish brogue, his dark eyes twinkling merrily. "The night is young, and we have so much in common. I noticed your winning streak, lass. Perhaps we could discuss it over a wee drop?"

"Take your hands off me," Janeway said pleasantly. "Or the only 'wee drop' you'll be having will be for anesthetic purposes."

"Whoa," he said, raising his hands defensively. The grin still hovered over his finely shaped lips, but he released her. "Now, why so feisty, lass?"

"Problem, 'Miss Kate'?" Seven said, appearing suddenly beside her spouse. Janeway was very aware that the Borg was radiating a quiet, menacing aura ... and for real. It reminded the captain of the Seven she had been introduced to in an alien prison where her partner had been in full alpha mode, protecting Janeway with everything the young woman had. Normally, a hologram would not be that perceptive, but apparently, Seven was displaying enough antagonism in her icy gaze to startle even this collection of photons, and he immediately backed off, paling a little.

"My mistake," he said and faded into the crowd.

B'Elanna's mouth had dropped open. "Damn, Seven," she said. "Where did that come from?"

Seven, completely composed once more, merely quirked her eyebrow at her friend. "I am unsure as to what you are referring to," she said innocently, and drifted away.

B'Elanna glanced at the captain and Janeway shrugged, trying to convey that she didn't know what was going on either. She wasn't sure it was entirely effective, but B'Elanna subsided and Janeway heaved a silent sigh of relief. She took the opportunity to follow her partner and tracked her down outside the crowded salon on the deck beneath a star-studded night sky. The full moon shone silver over the Mississippi, and the hot, humid night evoked feelings that were far away from poker and the potential mystery posed by the holoprogram. Seven was leaning on the rail and Janeway found a spot beside her, resting her elbows on the wooden beam. The cries of a night bird sounded mournfully over the river that was so placid, it was like liquid glass, the surface shimmering in the dim illumination. The hum of insects and the lap of water against the boat's hull completed the scenario of the riverboat hitched up against the bank for the night, and Janeway had a sudden, irrational urge for a cool mint julep. Or better yet, a long, cool Borg beauty served with ice.

She forced herself to enjoy the moment of tranquility, restraining her baser impulses.

"This is nice," Janeway noted finally, softly, afraid to unduly disturb the peacefulness.

Seven curved up one corner of her mouth. "Acceptable," she agreed. She snuck a look at her partner. "Were you jealous?"

Janeway smiled crookedly. "Maybe just a little ... unappreciative of a sweet young thing like that," she admitted. "You?"

Seven raised her chin and inhaled deeply. "I found him ... disturbing," she responded. "Were you attracted to him?"

"Perhaps under far different circumstances," Janeway allowed honestly, knowing anything less for her would simply complicate things. Seven would pick up on any dissembling in her voice and be far more disturbed by it than she would be by any plain and unvarnished truth from the captain. Smiling, Janeway reached over and hooked her arm under Seven's, resting her head on the Borg's shoulder. "He's sort of my 'type'," she added softly, "and possibly there's a little chemistry which comes from some primitive part of a person, mindless, directionless, initiated by god knows what." She squeezed her hold on Seven's arm. "However, you'll note that I'm out here by your side, and that choice is always going to be the same, no matter what ... wherever you are, my darling, that's exactly where I want to be. Forever."

Seven smiled faintly and brushed her lips over Janeway's forehead. "Being with you is my choice as well."

"So how long do we have left?"

"Another two hours," Seven remarked.

"Hmm," Janeway said. "Shame really, when we could be spending those two hours in our quarters ... finding other ways to entertain ourselves."

Seven nudged her. "You are enjoying the poker," she pointed out. "Indeed, I suspect that is partially why you are so amorous. Your love of winning inspires such increased interest in lovemaking."

A short bark of laughter sounded from the captain. "That's true, but the longer the program progresses, the harder the games will get and the more chance there is that I will lose." She lowered her voice and stepped closer to Seven, running her hands lingeringly along the young woman's biceps, pressing her own measure of cleavage against the Borg. "You know what happens when I lose ... all that 'interest' fades correspondingly. Do you really want to risk missing out on all this ... energy I currently possess?"

Seven quirked an eyebrow. "I shall 'take my chances'," she allowed with a faint smile. "Besides, you would have to be defeated badly to completely lose your 'mood' once you have developed it. Normally, it just grows more intense the longer its gratification is delayed. That is something that I find ... worth waiting for."

"Oh, my," Janeway said, chuckling as Seven tucked the captain's hand under her arm and they strolled back to the salon. "You do think you have me pegged, don't you?"

"I do," Seven allowed with assurance.

Janeway did not respond to that, merely squeezing Seven's forearm affectionately.

"Miss Kate, I must say, I like your taste," a voice said from the shadows of the pilot house as they approached the salon. They paused before reaching the light which spilled golden and warm through the door, looking back inquiringly into the dark.

Janeway frowned faintly as she saw a glowing red ember, and then the possessor of the cigarette stepped out into the light,  revealed to be Ruby Lil, her dark eyes raking Seven up and down approvingly. Didn't Ro say that Seven and she were perceived as 'male' in this scenario? Janeway reminded herself. It was still somewhat disturbing however, for these women to keep assessing her partner as a piece of prime stud on the hoof. It aroused certain, primitive defense mechanisms within her, the desire to raise her hackles and display just who exactly possessed the young woman.

"Tell me, Miss Kate," Ruby asked, smoke wreathing her lined face, "where does one ... 'hire' ... such a versatile young protector?" The cigarette was attached to a long, elegant holder which she used to gesture for emphasis.

Janeway smiled, or at least, showed all her teeth at the other woman. "Being in the right place at the right time," she said carefully. "So your play goes well?"

"As well as yours," Ruby responded, baring her own teeth. "Perhaps if we have the opportunity to sit across from each other, you might find yourself putting up your ... 'bodyguard' as your stake."

Janeway raked the woman up and down with a glance. "I don't think you have anything to offer of the same value," she noted, a decided edge in her voice.

"You might be surprised," Ruby said, her dark eyes narrowing. "We're both women of the world, Kate. I'm not sure where your 'house' was located, but obviously, you ran it with the same skill as I ran mine. And we both know that when it's all said and done, a body ... any body ... is just another form of currency."

Janeway inhaled deeply. "No," she said. "It's not."

She squeezed Seven's elbow and obligingly the Borg, who had remained silent during this exchange, resumed her interrupted journey to the salon. Janeway was trembling a little with irrational anger ... this was only a holoprogram, after all ... and a deep sadness that permeated her soul. Yes, Humanity had come a long way, but it behooved her to remember that in many parts of even the enlightened Federation, circumstances still forced individuals into lives that were not positive or affirming, just like this display of Earth's primitive, though not so distant, past.

"Kathryn?"

"It's alright, darling," she said softly as they entered the crowded room, the people swirling as they settled back into their places for the next round of the tournament. "Sometimes, something will strike me the wrong way." She forced a grin. "But I guess I've figured out what my background story is. I really should have accessed the computer character profile before playing."

"Was the conversation so disturbing?" Seven asked, still confused. Obviously she had picked up on Janeway's unease but did not understand the cause. Janeway wasn't really sure she completely understood it herself, but she patted the Borg's hand reassuringly.

"It wasn't what was said," she explained. "But what wasn't." She flashed her spouse a bit of a smile and released her as she took her place at the table, glancing around at the next, tougher round of opponents.

Forcing herself to relax, she schooled her face to impassiveness and waited for the first hand to be dealt.

Seven frowned as she watched Janeway settle into her game and looked around to see where B'Elanna had gotten to. She couldn't spot the Klingon from her vantage point in the crowd around Janeway's table, nor could she see Ro. Instead, an unfamiliar male stood next to the safe, obviously Ro Laren's relief in the guarding duties. Of course, that left the question of where the Bajoran was.

Seven hoped that she was with B'Elanna and that they were enjoying themselves.

"I'll see your fifty," Janeway said, diverting Seven's attention back to the game. "And raise you twenty-five."

The Borg did not quite comprehend the appeal of poker, but she knew that the captain understood it and relished it thoroughly. Indeed, though Janeway's face held her best command mask, impassive, infinitely calm, Seven could see the pink suffusing the back of her spouse's neck. The way the long, elegant fingers seemed to almost caress the stiff pieces of cardboard she held in them or lifted the tumbler of whiskey and soda next to her, Seven knew without a doubt, that Janeway was truly having a good time. More than anything else, Seven wanted her partner to enjoy herself while participating in the holoprogram, particularly since she knew the captain had only agreed to it because she thought it would make Seven happy. The Borg was glad that she had chosen this program and not the one offered by Lt. Paris.

Seven did not think Janeway would have found much to interest her in a quiet Irish village named Fair Haven.

She was suddenly aware of being observed and she looked around curiously. At the next table, Ruby Lil had folded and was waiting for the rest of that hand to be played out. To occupy herself, she was regarding Seven closely, and when the Borg's eyes landed on her, she smiled invitingly and moistened her lips, dropping a wink to her. Startled, feeling her face grow hot although she was not entirely sure why, Seven quickly turned her attention back to her partner's table.

Perhaps she should have paid closer attention to the computer when it indicated that her character was considered to be 'an attractive prize' to the various players. She thought that meant that they would attempt to hire her away from 'Miss Kate', not that they would look at her in the exact same manner that Janeway did whenever Seven stepped out of the shower, wet and flushed, with disarrayed hair ... as if the young woman were a tasty morsel to be consumed. Of course, if the couple had sufficient time to spare, the captain usually made a point of doing so.

Seven hoped that no one would attempt to escalate their reaction in the way that Janeway had the privilege of doing, or the Borg would be forced to utilize the weapons resting on her hips, as well as the ones which came naturally to her implants.

"I fold." The tone was disgusted and the owner of it glared at Janeway as the captain looked inscrutable and neatly lay her cards face down on the table to rake in the pot. He was a well dressed young man, a fop from some wealthy family and obviously being beaten by a woman did not set well with him. "What did you have?" he demanded, reaching over to flip the cards.

Janeway put her fingertips on them, forestalling the attempt. "You folded," she said in her best command tone. "You only get to see them if you call."

His face twisted. "Listen whore, no...Urk!"

Seven's Borg mesh hand closed on his throat and lifted him into the air, his feet dangling a good foot off the ground. She stared into his bulging eyes, his face turning a decided shade of blue.

"Seven," Janeway said coolly. "Put the obnoxious little man down."

Seven hesitated ... it was only a hologram after all ... but she knew the captain's position about this sort of thing and truthfully, once she had picked him up, he had ceased to be an active threat. She frowned and gently lowered him to the ground, where she released her grip on him. His knees buckled and he staggered away, hand on his throat as a couple of his friends helped him out of the salon. Janeway, with the remarkable presence that only came from being a Starfleet captain, carefully shuffled the cards in her hands, ignoring the fact that every eye in the salon was now on her and her bodyguard.

Then, from the next table, Ruby Lil began to applaud ... a sort of sarcastic applause ... but the clapping was gradually picked up by the rest of the crowd, accompanied by a few whistles and cheers before dying away as people got back to the tournament. Seven felt extremely self-conscious throughout it, and she knew she must be blushing furiously.

"That was amazing, Seven," B'Elanna said, appearing at the Borg's elbow.

"It was merely a hologram," Seven muttered. She glanced at her friend. "Where were you?"

"Talking to the deck-hands and crew," B'Elanna said. "I'll tell you, Seven. If you really want to find out what's really going on in a ship, talk to the lower decks."

"I shall remember that," Seven remarked. "What did you discover?"

B'Elanna brightened. "There are more undercurrents going on in this room than in the river," she said. She lowered her voice and looked around covertly. "You know Ruby Lil? Rumor has it that she has something on Jennings," she revealed. "And there's some connection between her and Michael Sullivan as well. Colonel Summers has been seen talking a lot with James Brophy, while there's even some speculation about Ro's character. I can't wait to see what she's got to tell us."

Seven noted that her friend seemed to be enjoying herself now, and she carefully stifled her small smile. Instead, she quirked her eyebrow. "It seems that having more information serves only to confuse matters."

"Yeah, well, that's a holoprogram," B'Elanna noted casually. "The more convoluted the scenario, the better the game."

Seven nodded slightly, her eyes narrowed as they swept the room, alighting on the various beings that B'Elanna had pointed out.

"What of the man who just threatened Kathryn?"

"Minor character," B'Elanna explained. "I doubt he'll be back."

Since Seven's experience with holoprograms was fairly limited, she had to take B'Elanna's word for it, but she was not entirely reassured. She rested her hand on the butt of her left weapon and edged closer to Janeway, making sure no one else attempted to accost her charge, something she would do in this role even if Kathryn wasn't her wife.

This round, she saw, was more difficult for the captain, losing one or two hands for every three she won. Yet, instead of lessening the captain's enjoyment, it appeared to increase it. Obviously, a distinctive display of Janeway's competitive side, though when asked, the captain always claimed not to be the slightest bit competitive. Seven knew better of course. She was vaguely amused by the expression of determination on her partner's face, and the ill concealed pleasure at how her pile of chips were slowly, but steadily increasing. How much of it, the Borg wondered, was the program shading cards to Janeway's benefit and how much was the captain's own skill? Seven supposed she would never know ... unless she engaged the captain in a game herself.

Seven examined that thought from all angles for a moment, wondering how hard it would be to convince the captain to play with her? Perhaps if she put something other than chips up for stakes, she could entice her partner to agree to a hand or two. Had anyone had ever used items of the clothing one was wearing to gamble with? The would provide an interesting twist to the rules of the games, Seven decided.

After they had completed their time in the holodeck and were back in the privacy of their quarters, Seven would suggest a round of poker with the captain, utilizing the version she had just created. The Borg's body tingled pleasantly at the thought.

The pleasant tingling stopped, however, as a sudden jolt almost took her off her feet and she staggered briefly, forced to catch her balance on the table surface. She instantly and instinctively reached out and grabbed Janeway, holding her in her chair and preventing her from tumbling to the floor as so many others had, including B'Elanna who went head over heels into a group of other people.

"We've run aground," someone yelled from the other side of the room.

Seven frowned and Janeway rose quickly from her seat, both of them moving swiftly toward the door.

"I thought we were already up against the river bank," the captain noted as they spilled out into the sunshine. Seven blinked, feeling somewhat confused by these time shifts.

"While you were playing, the scenario altered to day and we began to move again," she explained as the two women moved to the bow. Because they had retained their feet, they were not caught up in the general exodus that followed them, and were able to find a good spot on the rail. A crew was working to slide the Delta Princess off the sandbar that had snagged the flat-bottomed boat. It was a fairly entertaining exercise in leverage and maneuvering and the crowd was properly appreciative of the efforts put forth by the crew, yelling encouragement and derisive comments accordingly.

After awhile, however, Janeway frowned as she looked at all the activity. "You know," she said thoughtfully, "that was quite a jolt. More than running aground would seem to indicate. I wonder if the holoprogram is malfunctioning. We did have a problem with that wave front."

"I'm sure it was designed to attract our attention," Seven remarked. "If there were really a problem of significance, the bridge would have picked up on it and contacted us."

Janeway considered that for a moment, then nodded. "You're right," she allowed with a brief smile. "I won't call Chakotay and interrupt our play."

"Thank you," Seven replied with genuine gratitude.

B'Elanna appeared next to them. "I wonder why this happened now," she said curiously. "What purpose would this have in the scenario?"

"To get everyone out on the deck?" Janeway suggested idly.

There was a pause, then both women, captain and engineer, looked at each other with dawning suspicion.

"To get everyone out of the lounge?" B'Elanna returned sharply, already turning back.

Seven frowned, trying to keep up with the other two, not understanding their unease but realizing that they had been correct when a series of screams sounded from the interior of the riverboat. There was another large movement in the crowd, this time to return to the salon and again, Janeway and Seven avoided most of it by being a few steps ahead of the rest.

They paused inside at the sight that greeted them, prudently standing clear of the door as other people poured into the room. The ingenue who had flirted so shamelessly with Seven was kneeling near the dais, crimson staining the front of her dress as she bent over a motionless form. The safe door was gaping open, the interior empty, and it was obvious that all the tournament money had been removed in what appeared to not only to be a murder, but a theft as well.

Seven followed Janeway as the captain quickly made her way to the hysterical girl and lifted Maggie bodily to her feet. Seven flinched with astonishment as Janeway slapped the belle across the face a couple of times, the sound of the palm hitting her cheek unnaturally loud in the stunned silence. The Borg certainly hoped that Janeway would never have cause to attempt to calm her down in that manner ... it looked as if it would be painful. But it did seem to work and the girl ceased her screaming and began to sob.

"What happened here?" Janeway asked with authority.

"He's dead, he's dead," Maggie moaned over and over.

Seven thought that was rather obvious as she took note of the bloated body of Beau Jennings stretched out on the floor, a large pool of blood spreading realistically around him from a gaping gunshot wound in his chest.

"Did anyone hear a shot?" Ruby Lil noted logically from the crowd.

No one spoke up and the fearful looks and shaking heads indicated that this was to be the 'mystery' of the scenario. Seven shot a glance at B'Elanna and noted that the Klingon's eyes had lit up, no doubt at the inclusion of violence to the program, as well as the air of terse excitement permeating the area.

"How did you find him?" Janeway asked, shaking the girl slightly.

"Oh, daddy," Maggie cried. "Oh, daddy."

"Oh brother," B'Elanna muttered. "The girl was his kid? Now things get really complicated."

The girl shook loose of Janeway and dashed toward Seven who caught her in her arms automatically, holding her gingerly as she wept copiously on the Borg's chest.

"You have to protect me, Seven," she cried. "I'm sure I'll be next."

"Why?" Seven asked logically.

"Because, I know Daddy's little black book is gone," Maggie explained. "I'm sure that's what this is really about ... not stealing all the tournament money. He told me that he had important information in it about the players."

Seven frowned.

"It was probably not the most prudent course to reveal that in front of everyone," she told the girl which caused Maggie to fling her arms around Seven's neck, clinging to her most uncomfortably. Disconcerted, the Borg glanced at Janeway to find a rather dire look on the captain's face, and when Seven returned it with her best 'what can I do?' expression, it did not seem to placate her partner significantly.

"You have to protect me," Maggie sobbed, pressing various bits of herself against Seven who tried to gently pry her off. "You're a bodyguard."

"I am already otherwise engaged in that capacity," Seven said truthfully.

"Let's just calm down here, shall we?" Janeway said, a trifle waspishly.

"Agreed," a ringing voice rang out over the crowd.

Startled, everyone looked at the dais where Ro Laren appeared. The Bajoran raised her hand and displayed a shiny badge of some sort in her palm. "U.S. Marshall," she identified herself firmly. "I'm here to track down a racketeer, but I will find this murderer as well. You can count on that."

Her dark eyes swept the crowd challengingly, her stance one of extreme aggression as her hand hovered over the butt of her gun.

"Oh, that figures," B'Elanna said with sincere disgruntlement, hands resting on her hips. "Everyone else gets all the good parts and I'm left just standing here."

Harry Kim picked himself up off the deck where he'd been flung and stumbled back to the command chair.

"What the hell was that?" he muttered, and then straightened his shoulders. "Report!" he added in a clearer tone.

Tom Paris shook his head and frantically ran his hands over his board. "I don't know," he said. "One of those energy strands from the nebula seemed to react badly with the shields."

Tuvok raised an eyebrow and Harry wondered if the Vulcan had even been staggered by the jolt which had briefly rattled the ship. "It appears to be a random energy surge," the security chief said. "I suggest we withdraw and continue our observations of the nebula from a safer distance."

"Do it," Harry barked and wondered how long he would continue to maintain the conn now?

After all, both Janeway and Chakotay were bound to have felt the jolt and the lieutenant was surprised that they hadn't contacted him yet. That stray thought was answered when the doors to the turbolift hissed open and Commander Chakotay bounded out. A big, burly man with dark, handsome looks and a bearish frame, he immediately took command without so much as a glance at Harry who obligingly moved off the command level and back to the ops station where he relieved Nicoletti. The lieutenant moved over to the engineering station as Chakotay leaned over Paris' shoulder, sweeping the helm readout with intent eyes.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"A little bit of unexpected turbulence from the nebula," the helmsman responded promptly. "We've withdrawn to a safer distance."

"Why wasn't I or the captain contacted when we encountered this anomaly?" Chakotay asked in an even, if somewhat foreboding tone.

"The current bridge crew is fully capable of studying a nebula without further supervision," Tuvok noted logically before Harry, who had felt the question keenly, could respond. Gratefully, the ops officer shot a look at the Vulcan, who of course, did not acknowledge it.

Chakotay regarded the Vulcan for a moment, then nodded briefly. "What about the captain?" he asked. "She still should have contacted the bridge to find out what caused that jolt."

That was odd, Harry realized and he ran a check of the captain's location.

"Captain Janeway is currently in the holodeck," he volunteered. He paused, checking some readings about that signature that made him feel a little weak. "Uh, Commander, it's possible that she either can't contact us or in fact, did not notice the jolt, assuming it was part of the program."

"What?" Chakotay said, leaving his place near the helm and moving up to the raised area aft. "What are you talking about?"

"Internal sensors indicate that the energy strand sent a surge through the ship's power grid, including the holodeck's," Harry said unhappily. "There's a disruption in the matrix. I've been trying to contact the captain, and while it's possible she might have left her communicator in her quarters, the ship's internal communication system should have alerted her to my hails."

"Keep trying," Chakotay said, studying the readings. He frowned as a line of data crossed the screen and he reached out, freezing it for further perusal. "This doesn't mean what I think it means, does it?" he added with a certain amount of trepidation.

Harry swallowed. "The grid is malfunctioning," he admitted. "We can't shut the program down and neither can they. The doors have been sealed to casual entry." He raised his eyes, meeting the dark, concerned gaze of Voyager's first officer. "Indications are, the holodeck safeties may have been compromised."

"Of course they have," the first officer groaned. "Just once, why can't an energy surge simply shut the scenario down completely and open the doors by default? Why do they always make the program run amuck and seal the holodeck off from the rest of the ship? What the hell were the Starfleet engineers thinking when they designed the damned thing?"

Harry hesitated. "Sir?" he asked, hoping he wasn't expected to offer an answer to that ... though he had formulated several theories over the years to just those questions.

Chakotay grimaced. "We need to find a way to tell the captain about this," he said. "Keep trying to punch a message through to her. If nothing else, if we can't get her out of there immediately, she'll have to be warned not to test those safeties too often. Send an engineering team to deck six to try to force the doors open manually."

"Aye, sir," Harry said.

He set the necessary commands into place and attempted to realign the internal communication system with the disrupted hologrid, trying to match the frequency so that he would be able to contact Janeway, even if it was through one the characters generated by the scenario matrix.

He found himself wishing desperately that he hadn't ordered the ship into the nebula.

Captain Janeway frowned, her arms crossed over her chest in abject dissatisfaction. The bridge had finally been able to punch through a signal to the crewmembers in the scenario, overriding the interference being generated by the disrupted holo-emitters. It had come in the form of the cabin boy who had ran up to 'Miss Kate' and informed her ... in technical language that was quite out of keeping with the scenario ... what had happened on the bridge. It had taken the Voyager captain a few seconds to understand what he was talking about, especially since they were in the middle of a crowd surrounding a dead body, but when she realized that they couldn't stop the program or even get out of the holodeck, Janeway was livid.

"You know, if one added up all the incidents involving holodecks and programs running amuck," she snapped, "it occurs to me that no sane captain would ever have the damned thing on her starship."

"Actually, I've always thought that was part of its attraction," Ro said dryly, leaning against the mantle of a fake fireplace. The four Voyager crewmembers had retired to Miss Kate's cabin, hoping that there, at least, they could speak freely, independent of the other characters in the scenario, particularly Miss Maggie who had finally needed to be spirited off to her room by Michael Sullivan, accompanied by a Doctor from back east who intended to sedate her. Janeway and Seven were sitting on the bed while B'Elanna had appropriated the only chair in the room.

"The potential for the emitters to malfunction, I mean," Ro continued. "Trapping the participant in the scenario and having to play the game for real is supposed to lend a certain ... appeal to using it. At least, I've read that in journals regarding holo-addictions."

"Not for me," Janeway said darkly, even as she wondered why Ro Laren would be interested in reading psych papers. It was an aspect of the woman she had not known before nor would have even guessed. "Holodecks and reality shouldn't mix. It's ... unscientific."

"Never had a holo-crush, Captain?" B'Elanna asked curiously, in the sort of tone that indicated she knew what she was talking about. "Even when you were young?"

"Never," Janeway said dismissively. "I know it's normal for teenagers to develop romantic inclinations for holo-characters when puberty sets in, but I never did. After all, it's not real and no matter how hard one attempts to confuse the issue by additional programming, the object of one's desires is just that, an object. It's not even as if we're talking about sentient beings like the Doctor or Sek. They are in a situation that requires them to exceed their programming, not to mention the fact that their matrixes are considerably more sophisticated than the average holoprogram character. Holodecks are for entertainment purposes only, not something on which to develop an emotional dependence. In fact, after awhile, they're not even much fun."

She paused.

"I know I'm definitely not having fun any longer," she added and then regretted her words as she saw the shadow cross Seven's face, wishing she could take them back. "The fact remains that with the safeties off, the weapons that everyone seems to be carrying can kill us as easily as they can kill the other characters in this scenario. 'Real' is a relative term, when one is talking about projectile weapons."

"This is a somewhat dangerous scenario," Ro pointed out coolly. "There's already been one murder and undoubtedly, the 'fear' element has been added to the basic programming. Also, it's clear that the scenario is not running within the 'General' default setting."

Janeway had suspected as much, but she still couldn't figure out why Seven would program the specifications that way.

"The 'danger' level is listed in the upper medium band," Seven said beside her, her tone considerably subdued. "That is partially why I chose it. I thought that would increase its appeal to both you and B'Elanna."

The Klingon shot her a sympathetic look.

"It did," she offered reassuringly before turning her attention back to the captain. "So what do we do ... play it out?"

"That does seem to be the standard procedure in these sort of malfunctions," Janeway noted. "By completing the game, the scenario should shut down automatically and provide an exit."

"That means we have to discover who the murderer is before he, or she, strikes again," Ro agreed. She paused, eyeing them all. "I assume that none of you had anything to do with the untimely demise of our host?"

Janeway grinned crookedly at the Bajoran. "Afraid not," she said. "Otherwise, your character could just arrest one of us and finish the scenario. I'd gladly confess to the crime, if I thought that would work."

"I do not believe it would," Seven said quietly. Janeway glanced at her and reached over, patting Seven's hand comfortingly, as she realized how much her partner was blaming herself for having initiated the holo excursion.

"We'll just have to treat this as an away mission," the captain said. "Under pre-warp civilization observation protocols."

"Blend in," B'Elanna said, reciting from memory. "Fulfill our roles and do not interfere with the inhabitants." She paused and shook her head. "With all due respect, Captain, that won't work in this situation. The program is keyed to us as the players. We'll have to actively participate to win."

Janeway sighed. "That's a good point," she allowed. "I hadn't thought of that." She frowned and spared a few seconds to once again fume over how much she hated malfunctioning holodecks ... almost as much as she hated temporal distortions. Shaking her head, she dragged herself back to the problem at hand. "All right, we have to solve the murder. Who would have cause to kill Jennings?"

"The four people we discussed earlier, Captain," B'Elanna said and repeated what she had told Seven earlier. "It's obvious that there were connections between all those characters. We have to find out exactly which connection contains enough dangerous implication to incite a murder."

"All right," Janeway said, her tone brisk and commanding. "You and Ro find out what you can about Brophy and Summers. Since Ro is apparently some kind of law enforcement agent, she will have an authority with them that the rest of us might not have. By the same token, because of my character's background, Seven and I may have more success with Ruby Lil and Sullivan. Talk to the suspects directly if you have to, but be prudent about any face to face confrontation ... they are all armed and unless otherwise proven, must be considered extremely dangerous. We'll all meet back here as soon as we can."

B'Elanna and Ro nodded, then exited the cabin. Seven stood up to follow and Janeway reached out, snagging her hand and turning the young woman around to face her. The Borg hesitated, regarding the captain with a certain amount of confusion.

"Captain?" Seven asked.

"Annika, this is not your fault," Janeway told her intently. "It has nothing to do with you."

"I am aware of that," Seven responded coolly and Janeway smiled faintly.

"Maybe up there," she said, touching Seven fleetingly on the forehead. "But you don't know it here." She placed her hand on the Borg's chest, over her heart. "I'm just reminding you that arranging this holoprogram outing was a great idea, and up until the energy surge which disrupted it, we were all having a wonderful time."

Seven seemed to consider her words, then nodded reluctantly. "I understand," she said.

"I hope so," Janeway said, squeezing her partner's hand gently. "Let's go solve this murder."

"We should speak with Miss Maggie," Seven suggested as they left the cabin and headed for the upper decks. "If she has any pertinent information to share, the program will insure that she will at this point."

"You just like how she flirts with you," Janeway noted mildly, trying to inject a little more 'fun' into the situation, still feeling a little bad about inadvertently hurting her partner's feelings.

Seven shot her a startled look, and then seemed to realize that the captain was teasing her. She colored faintly, though her facial muscles relaxed as her eyes lightened perceptibly.

"You may ask the questions, in that event," she said dryly. "And I will be sure to do the talking with Mr. Sullivan."

Janeway laughed. "Touché."

Their attempt to communicate with Miss Maggie, however, was stymied by the fact that she was still sedated. Janeway decided that it meant the character had already given them all the information that was pertinent to their investigation up to this point. Obviously, they had to find that 'black book' she had been talking about earlier, before receiving any further help from her.

They exited onto the deck and made their way to the salon where the body had been removed, though a crimson patch still stained the wooden floorboards. Several of the players and spectators stood around, talking in low tones and Janeway noted idly that the boat was once more underway.

"I wonder if, while we were beached, the killer got off the boat," Janeway mused out loud.

"If so, that would mean one of our prime suspects is missing," Seven noted. "Which would solve the crime quickly. Then, it would simply be a matter of demanding the boat be turned around and we would take up the chase at that time." She paused. "I do not believe the scenario would run that way. The description of the scenario is that it takes place entirely on an authentic Mississippi riverboat."

"There is that," Janeway agreed. She looked around and frowned. "I don't see any of our suspects here." She attracted the notice of one of the players. "Have you seen Ruby Lil or Michael Sullivan?"

He smirked, stroking his goatee. "I suspect you can find them in the same place, ma'am," he drawled. "In her cabin."

Janeway paused a second to fix him with a stare as she identified the implication, which caused him to drop his eyes and look away. Frowning, the captain dismissed him from her mind as she looked over at Seven who had been listening to the conversation. The captain took note of the cabin boy lurking amid the crowd, staring with fascination at the red splotch on the deck and she reached out, putting her hand on the back of his neck. This obviously scared him, the child starting convulsively, and Janeway immediately gentled both her voice and body language, as she did whenever confronted by young people, patting him soothingly on the shoulder. "Can you lead us to the cabin of Ruby Lil?" she asked in her kindest tone.

He stared up at her with scared, wide eyes. "Yes, ma'am," he said and led the captain and Seven back to where the crew quarters were located. In front of one of the nondescript doors, he paused and looked at her expectantly. Janeway stared back at him with bafflement, wondering how to get rid of him. Seven solved that by retrieving a coin from her shirt pocket and tossing it to him which he snatched gratefully out of the air and scooted off.

Seven regarded the captain with a bit of condescension. "For someone with an interest in historical data," she noted, "you are woefully uninformed of certain social rituals ... such as exchanging currency for services rendered."

Janeway poked her partner in the ribs with her thumb. "That's why I have you along," she responded lightly. "To cover the details that don't interest me."

"Ah," Seven remarked, as if she had experienced some doubt about her true purpose in this scenario.

Janeway knocked resoundingly on the door, waited a second or two to allow the inhabitants of the cabin to make themselves halfway presentable, then stormed in, her best command mask on. She was unsurprised to find the pair in a certain state of dishabille ... she was starting to realize that this was an 'adult' scenario, after all ... but she was surprised that the only 'garments' they had grabbed were weapons. Sullivan was standing naked by the bed, his fist full of a small derringer which was pointed directly at the captain. Behind Janeway, Seven belatedly realized that her partner was being threatened and went to draw her own weapon, forestalled by the captain's quick grab at her hand.

"Don't," she said to her partner. "We don't want this to escalate to a 'shootout'."

Seven hesitated, then relaxed marginally. Sullivan also tilted his head, and then dipped it in apparent agreement.

"Violence is rather messy," he said, to Janeway's relief and carefully lowered his weapon ... if unable to lower anything else ... as Ruby Lil followed suit. The ex-madam did keep her revolver in plain sight, however, resting it on her lap as she sat up in the bed, glaring at the intruders.

"I'm here to discuss the murder," Janeway announced. Seven, meanwhile, was observing all this with extremely interested eyes, particularly the Sullivan hologram. It abruptly occurred to Janeway that Seven had probably not had the opportunity to witness a Human male in all his aroused glory before. "Put some pants on," she added irritably to the hologram.

With remarkable aplomb, he returned her stare evenly, his lips curving up in that charming grin as he reached over and picked up his trousers, pulling them on. As he did, the captain noted impassively that even though he was a trifle on the 'large' side, the wonder wand was still a vast improvement on these generic 'default' characters the holodeck kept coming up with as potential sexual possibilities for the players of the program. Janeway was beginning to suspect that this particular character had been activated to match one of the profiles in the computer, belonging either the captain, B'Elanna or Ro Laren, because she doubted Seven had ever filled one out. It was probably her own since she kept coming into contact with him in provocative ways. The profiles contained the various personal preferences of each participant, including tastes in romantic partners. Janeway realized she was going to have to update her file, something that she had neglected to do since the first year she had been in the Delta Quadrant. If she was going to continue to play these scenarios with Seven, the computer would have to be informed that what once might have interested her while spending time in the holodeck was not at all suitable for her, now.

"Why are you talking to us about the murder?" Ruby asked. "We had nothing to do with it."

"Maybe not," Janeway allowed. "But I do know you had information regarding Jennings that could have resulted in murder." She eased her tone, trying to make it more confidential. "We're both women of the world, Lil. If he felt threatened, he might have attacked you. It would be perfectly understandable for you to 'defend' yourself."

Ruby didn't bite. "Nice try," she allowed, snorting slightly in derision. "But like you, Michael and I rushed out onto the deck as soon as we got up off the floor. Neither of us could have killed him." She offered a sweet smile to the Irishman. "Of course, afterward, I was distraught and Michael kindly returned with me to my cabin to soothe my nerves."

Janeway noted sardonically that, from all indication, it looked as if he had been 'soothing' her quite nicely before she and her spouse had interrupted.

"But you do have potentially damaging information regarding Mr. Jennings?" Seven persisted doggedly, not being diverted as Janeway occasionally was by the various twists and turns of the scenario.

Ruby looked Seven up and down and visibly licked her lips. "For you, good-lookin'," she said. "I'll tell you." Janeway felt her blood pressure rise. "Beau used to be a regular client of mine in Washington ... that's why he invited me to this tournament. But he could never keep his mouth shut in bed, and I found out some interesting things about how he made his money in the war. He used to channel weapons and food from the north into the south with some help from a Yankee accountant."

"James Brophy?" Janeway asked sharply.

Ruby stared at the Starfleet captain placidly. "I didn't get a name," she said easily and the captain knew, without a doubt, the woman was lying through her teeth. Then Janeway was taken aback as Ruby leaned back against the pillows and allowed the blanket to drop, revealing a still quite impressive bosom, which she enhanced by inhaling deeply. "Now that this tedious business is out of the way, I don't suppose I could interest you and your bodyguard in a bit of fun? When was the last time you enjoyed a good foursome, Miss Kate?"

Janeway flushed and Seven quirked an eyebrow.

"'Foursome'?" the Borg repeated, clearly intrigued.

"We're done here," Janeway said sharply. "Let's go." She turned and left the room, as Seven, along with the raucous laughter of the two characters, followed in her wake.

"This scenario is a lot more 'adventurous' than I expected from you, Annika," Janeway muttered as she and Seven made their way back to their cabin where they were supposed to meet their companions. "Why did you choose the 'adult' setting?"

Seven blinked, unsure of what the captain was referring to. "We are all adults, Kathryn," she said, with some confusion. "That is why I accepted that option when it was offered by the computer." She paused. "Why?"

Janeway shook her head. "It's just that the three settings, juvenile, general and adult, make the scenario play differently depending on which one is chosen," she explained. "'Adult' provides a great deal more opportunity for sexual encounters than the other settings do."

"Between the characters, you mean," Seven said and nodded sagely. "I did realize that Mr. Sullivan and Ruby Lil had been copulating prior to our arrival. Is that significant?"

Janeway sighed and Seven realized that she was still missing something here, probably to do with social interaction. That was an area she was still a little weak on as she progressed on her path to Humanity.

"Darling, it's designed so that we, as the players, have more opportunity to participate in such things," the captain explained patiently. "There can be sexual interaction in the 'General' parameters and that's why it's usually the default setting, but the player has to initiate it. In the 'adult' parameter, the characters will often initiate it and that setting is generally not used in a program shared with ... uh, friends like B'Elanna and Ro. As for what Ruby meant by a 'foursome', she wanted you and me to join her and Sullivan in having sex."

Seven stopped and stared at her partner, who also paused when she realized the Borg was no longer walking beside her.

"Is that logical?" the Borg asked curiously, trying to envision how it would work. "To want to have sex with more than one person at a time?"

Janeway smiled briefly. "Well, it's more in the range of having sex for the sake of sex, which we've discussed before," she admitted with the honesty which had become characteristic of her when she was discussing this particular topic with Seven. She tried never to hide or be embarrassed by such frankness with her partner, though it had taken her a while to achieve that level of comfort with it ... forced into it by Seven's brutally straight-forward persona. "Nor is it something that's for everyone. I've always considered more than two people at any one time to be an indulgence in physicality rather than any true intimacy and that's why it's never really appealed to me. But similar situations are why many people use the holodeck, and safe sexual exploration is the primary reason the emitters were invented in the first place."

Seven considered this revelation carefully. "Would you consider the idea if it were more intimate?" she asked uncertainly, still trying to comprehend what Janeway was talking about. "I would not care to share such intimacy with holograms, but B'Elanna and Ro are our friends and..."

"Oh, my god, Seven," Janeway responded immediately, grabbing Seven by the arm and startling the young woman considerably. "Please don't repeat that to anyone. It's one thing to consider sexual escapades like that in the holodeck, but in real life, the potential for great emotional harm to the participants is very much present."

Seven was bemused by the captain's strong response. "I do not understand," she said carefully. "I would feel more trust with our friends in sexual exploration than I would with holograms. If you wish to pursue the idea of enhancing our love life..."

"I know, darling," Janeway said, calming a little though her eyes remained intent. "But intimate relations are intimate relations, regardless of where they occur, and should remain between us, not with others." The captain took a deep breath and regarded her partner steadily. "I appreciate that you're just exploring an idea here, Annika, but take a moment to remember how making love really is. This would not merely be an extension of 'variety for variety's sake' like trying to have sex in your Borg alcove or using the wonder wand. This would be the ultimate intimacy extended to two other people. How would you really feel about sharing what is just between us with others, regardless of who they are?"

Seven tried to carry it out to its conclusion and was left dizzy at where her speculation took her once she allowed herself to really consider the possibility. "I would not like it," she admitted weakly. "Not even with our friends."

Janeway nodded and took a moment to hug her. "I'm sorry I reacted so harshly, darling," she said softly. "But you slipped from discussing the recreational use of the holodeck into something far more involved without considering the ramifications. I just wanted to stop you before you went too far without thinking it through. Or bringing it up in a conversation with anyone else ... particularly someone who doesn't understand you as well as I do."

Seven hugged her back. "Is physical intimacy always this complicated, Kathryn?" she asked into the auburn hair.

Janeway laughed. "It is if it means anything," she replied. "Darling, you've learned that sex simply for the sake of sex is different than making love. And you've learned that being in love is far different than merely being attracted to someone. You just have to learn which situations require which application."

"I will consider this carefully," Seven told her. "When I have the opportunity. You have given me much to think about."

Janeway did not look particularly pleased by that, which Seven understood to a certain degree ... her thoughts generally led to ideas and some of her ideas were not always appreciated by her spouse.

"I promise to discuss anything I might conclude with you, first," Seven promised.

"All right," Janeway said with some relief.

They resumed their journey back to the room, and Seven was surprised when she saw B'Elanna already there waiting for them. She thought the captain was also surprised and unpleasantly so.

"Where's Ro?" she asked.

B'Elanna looked disgusted. "I don't know," she said flatly. "She told me that since she was the U.S. Marshall, she should check out Brophy on her own because that's how the scenario would be won, and then disappeared before I could argue. One second we were walking together through the lounge, and the next, she had just faded away into the crowd."

"Yes, she's rather good at that," Janeway said with annoyance. "But I didn't want anyone going off on their own. It's too dangerous."

Seven wondered why? Janeway had been notorious for taking off on her own as captain of Voyager, and if it weren't for Seven's determination to share everything with her partner, to the point of insisting she be allowed to accompany the captain everywhere in the past year or so, the compact redhead would still be doing it, even after being married. Seven suspected that this was a case of Janeway seeing her own reflection in the Bajoran ... the Borg knew that the traits which were most annoying to someone, were actually those that one disliked in themselves.

"What did you find out before she disappeared?" Janeway asked.

"That Summers is scared to death," B'Elanna revealed. "He was as white as his suit and seems to think he's next on the list to be picked off. Apparently, he had some kind of deal during the war involving the black market."

"Which involved a Yankee accountant," Janeway finished, her tone clipped.

"James Brophy?" Seven asked, looking at her partner.

"It all seems to be pointing in that direction," Janeway agreed.

B'Elanna looked worried. "If that's who Ro went after," she said. "She could be in a lot of trouble."

Janeway's eyes flashed, and Seven knew her partner was truly angry now. She did not envy the Bajoran who would inevitably be subjected to one of the captain's lectures once she returned. Since the verbal reprimands could peel the paint off Voyager's hull, Ro would finally understand what both Seven and B'Elanna had learned the hard way in the past ... one did not cross Captain Kathryn Janeway lightly.

The captain moved over to the porthole, looking out for a moment. When she turned around, her face had set into one of absolute determination, her eyes, a solid granite. "All right," she said. "We need to find this Brophy and neutralize him. Seven, I want you to stay here in the event that Ro returns. B'Elanna, you're with me. Seven, give her your gun."

Seven was not pleased by this plan at all, but she didn't think she should object so quickly on the heels of Ro's defiance of the captain's wishes. If they had been alone, however, she would have argued, and at length, refusing to let Janeway out of her sight, particularly since she suspected that Janeway was actually trying to keep her out of harm's way by insisting she stay in the room. But Seven knew that the image of the captain was a delicate thing at times, and she did not want to disrupt it unduly, particularly in front of another crewmember ... even if it was B'Elanna, their friend.

Setting her jaw, she carefully removed her gun from her right holster and handed it to B'Elanna.

"Take care of her," she said quietly, staring into the startled, dark eyes of the Klingon.

"My word on it," she replied.

Seven looked at Janeway and it seemed the captain suddenly understood what she had requested of her partner, having the grace to look slightly abashed. It occurred to Seven then, that possibly Janeway had not thought about what she was ordering, just that she had chosen B'Elanna to go with her, perhaps for Ro's sake. Of course, it was not proper for Janeway to explain it to her either, at this point ... not in front of the engineer.

"We'll be back shortly," the captain did say quietly, just before they left.

Seven still refused to soften the glare she offered her partner, even with her speculation, and when the other two left, she crossed her arms over her chest, fuming visibly. It was a half hour later before there was a thump at the door and she went over to it, opening it carefully.

Ro Laren, a crimson stain spreading from a wound in her shoulder fell rather than walked through the entrance. Seven caught the cursing Bajoran and carried her over to the bed, shutting the door behind them with her foot.

"Lieutenant," Seven asked anxiously as she eased the wounded woman down onto the mattress. "What happened?"

"Ran into an ambush," Ro grunted as Seven carefully peeled back the vest and shirt to reveal a blackened and bloody hole in the upper part of the Bajoran's shoulder. "I think it missed the bone and fortunately, it exited out the back."

Kathryn will not be pleased, was the first thought that crossed the Borg's mind as she viewed the ragged injury. Her somewhat limited medical training received from the Doctor rose to the front of her mind and she quickly went over to the ensuite, wetting a clean cloth with cold water and bringing it back to press against the Bajoran's wound, attempting to stop the bleeding.

Ro hissed through her clenched teeth as Seven applied the makeshift pad but the Borg did not have much sympathy for her and she suspected that the others wouldn't either. It was one thing to defy Janeway's wishes. It was a totally different state of affairs to be damaged while doing so.

"I think it was Brophy," Ro said as Seven attempted to clean away the very real blood with the holographic cloth. "I followed him down into the cargo hold and he shot me from the shadows. I must have passed out for a moment because he wasn't there when I woke up. I don't know why he didn't finish me off. I didn't even get a shot at him in return."

Seven felt her mild worry flare into a full blown concern. "The captain and B'Elanna have gone after him and you," she said. She regarded the Bajoran evenly. "I am limited in what I can do for you medically."

"I know," Ro said. She took a breath. "I see a bottle of liquor over on the dresser. Pour it on the wound and that will help sterilize it."

Seven regarded her for a moment skeptically, but she went over and retrieved the bottle, pouring the golden whiskey liberally over the wound. It must have stung badly because the stoic Bajoran cried out and covered her eyes with her forearm as Seven bound the wound more tightly.

"You realize of course, that the whiskey is actually a product of the holodeck and has no medicinal purpose whatsoever," Seven remarked once she finished. "However, if you enjoy the pain of having it poured on you, I will certainly not deny you that."

Ro stared at her. "Are you upset with me, Seven?"

Seven quirked an eyebrow. "Mildly annoyed because of the possible danger your actions might have caused the captain," she admitted, then paused. "You have much larger concerns than my attitude toward you however."

The door flew open and Seven was relieved to see the captain, escorted by B'Elanna, enter the room. The engineer made an odd sound when she saw Ro and she immediately went to her. Seven observed the captain from the corner of her eye and prudently removed herself from the line of fire as Janeway stared forbiddingly at the Bajoran lying on the bed.

"Did you discover anything?" she asked her partner, as she took the stained cloths to the ensuite, hoping to get in the question before the fireworks started.

"Nothing," Janeway said flatly, not shifting her gaze from the Starfleet officer on the bed. "Mr. Brophy seems to have disappeared ... or was frightened off."

"Captain..." Ro began.

"No," Janeway overrode the woman's words. "I could give you a long lecture, Lieutenant, though certainly I must take into account the fact that we are off-duty, and that I did not give you specific orders as to what I wanted or expected." She stepped closer to the bed and stared into the Bajoran's eyes, speaking her next words with deliberate precision. "However, you've been in Starfleet too long to maintain this level of foolishness. Going off on your own was stupid. I can't afford to have stupid people under my command."

Seven felt a shiver go up her spine at both the tone and expression, extremely glad that neither were directed at her. She did recoil a little, however, when Janeway looked at her.

"I'll need you with me, Seven," the captain said. "You and I will do a systematic, deck-by-deck search for the suspect. B'Elanna, remain here with the lieutenant and make sure Mr. Brophy does not attempt to finish what he started."

Seven shot one last look at the Bajoran who looked very pale against the white sheets, and dutifully followed her captain out of the room.

"You're really angry at me, too, aren't you," Ro said as she watched B'Elanna move about the room in agitation, going to the door and then back to the window again. "Is it because you have to stay with me rather than go with the captain and Seven?"

The Klingon shot a look over her shoulder, glaring at her.

"The captain was right, you are stupid," she said flatly.

Ro felt anger flare, fueled by the throbbing in her shoulder. "Look, I admit, in retrospect, it wasn't the smartest thing to go after Brophy alone," she said. "But I'm a security officer while the rest of you aren't, and I work better alone." She paused. "Plus, logically the law enforcement character generally has to capture the villain in order to win the scenario."

"That's all justification and you know it," the engineer said, in a suddenly weary voice as she went over and sat down in the room's only chair. "Ro, we're all on our own out here in the Delta Quadrant and the only way we make it through, is to work together. That's a lesson I learned quickly here and I'm surprised you haven't after six years with Captain Janeway. Not to mention the fact that you're not in security anymore, and even if you were, I would think that you could trust me to watch your back."

The reprimand stung, and the tired, almost defeated tone of the Klingon saddened and shamed the Bajoran in a way that B'Elanna's angry tone had not. Ro swallowed hard, and stared at the foot of the bed.

"'Lanna, I'm sorry," she said, speaking with difficulty. "You're right, it was stupid. I guess ... I just didn't want to have to worry about your safety when I went after the guy. That's why I left you behind. I ... I worry about you ... every bit as much as Janeway worries about Seven."

B'Elanna sighed. "I think I can understand that," she said. "But you'll note that Janeway took Seven with her this time. She doesn't take unnecessary chances just to play hero." Her voice faltered a little. "She's got too much to lose now."

Ro blinked rapidly. "Maybe you're right," she said huskily. "Maybe I still don't feel like I have much to lose so I try to take the threat on myself, rather than let someone else do it."

"But you do have a great deal to lose now," B'Elanna said, staring at her intently. "Your career, the respect of people like Janeway ... people like me."

Ro felt that one deep in her heart. "I know," she said, feeling helpless. "I'm sorry." She inhaled deeply. "I'm just not used to ... having someone in my life."

"Then what will it take for you to get used to it?" B'Elanna said, getting up from her chair and sitting down carefully on the edge of the bed next to the lean woman. She studied the Bajoran's face with dark eyes. "You know, I've been learning a lot about myself in my sessions with Sek. Your idea about us going to see her was a good one."

Ro, confused by the seeming change of subject, cleared her throat uncertainly. "I'm glad," she said. She hesitated. "May I ask what you've learned?"

B'Elanna looked away, her eyes distant and sad. "I learned that no matter how much I love someone, I always try to keep something between them and me," she admitted. "And if something doesn't make itself available, I'll make something up. But it's always someone else's fault when things don't go well, and it's easy for me to haul out whatever the thing is and say, 'see, I knew you didn't really love me after all'."

Ro felt as if she had been hit on the side of the head by a spanner.

"That's quite a discovery," she managed after a few awkward moments passed.

"It was to me," B'Elanna said. She refocused her eyes on the Bajoran. "I've decided that I don't want to build walls around me anymore, Laren. Especially not to keep you at a distance. I want to build bridges."

Ro inhaled slowly. "That's good to hear," she said. She hesitated, then forced herself to match the young woman's honesty. "I've learned a few things about myself, too."

B'Elanna did not speak, merely waited patiently for the other woman to continue.

"It's not easy, Lanna," Ro said softly. "I've been alone for a long time, and whenever I did let people get close, it turned out to be a disaster." She blinked again, wondering at the burning in her eyes. "I've let so many people down in the past, and I guess I'm scared to death to let anyone close to me, to let someone rely on me, because I believe in my heart that I'll only let them down. That's why it hurt so much with this Tuvok thing. Finally, I let someone rely on me, I did my best to come through for them and actually managed to succeed. But when I told you about it, it felt like you turned it on me, you made it into something it wasn't."

B'Elanna bowed her head. "I know," she said. "I'm sorry. Laren, I felt like it was something that I could use to ... I don't know, protect myself, I guess. Something that I could use as proof that you didn't really love me."

Ro laughed bitterly. "Funny, I thought it meant that I could finally love you completely," she said painfully. "By being able to come through for Tuvok, it meant that it would be safe for you to rely on me. It meant that I was ready to be everything you needed and wanted, rather than just be someone who couldn't be trusted completely. I could give you my whole heart because I knew now that I wouldn't let you down. But that's not how you saw it at all."

B'Elanna shook her head. "What a mess," she said. She reached out and stroked Ro's cheek with more gentleness than she had ever shown to the Bajoran before. "I've come to understand that we're totally different people, that why I do the things I do, aren't why you do them. That's a hard thing for me to get used to."

"I know," Ro replied, captured by the burning gaze. "Sometimes I think we'll never find enough common ground to be together, but then..."

"Then?" B'Elanna invited.

"I think about being without you, and that hurts so much," Ro said, her breath catching and it was like something had ripped open inside her. "So I keep trying, but I just seem to hurt you more and I don't want that. I care too much for you to want to hurt you."

B'Elanna sniffed, moisture glinting in her eyes. "You're not hurting me," she said. "I'm hurting me and I'm not going to do that any longer. It's not too late," B'Elanna added, her voice open and aching. "I love you, Laren. I couldn't stand losing you."

Ro felt her chest hurt with a fire that did not come entirely from her injury. "I love you too," she whispered. "I'm sorry I left you behind, B'Elanna. I don't want to leave you."

"Then don't," B'Elanna said. Carefully, she reached down and kissed Ro gently, a bare brush over the Bajoran's lips. Ro was made dizzy from it, but she didn't falter, returning the kiss as best she could. "Don't try to protect me. Don't do crazy things that might get you killed. Don't go around believing that the things you do, have nothing to do with me, because everything you do affects me ... just as everything I do affects you."

"I won't," Ro said, having to force the words past the obstruction in her throat. "I swear I won't ever again, Lanna."

"That's all I'll ever ask of you," B'Elanna whispered. "And it will be a request. I won't demand that you be something you're not anymore, bangwI'. I just want you."

"What does that word mean?" Ro asked.

B'Elanna tilted her head slightly, regarding her with soft eyes.

"It means 'beloved'," she said. "Mate of mine. The only one who shall ever be."

Incredibly, Ro felt moisture spill from her eyes, something that she had always been able to hold back before and a sob tore through her insides. But as hard as she tried to resist, it was impossible and there, cradled in the Klingon's arms, she wept for the first time in as long as she could remember.

Janeway was aware of Seven regarding her surreptitiously from the corner of her pale blue eyes as the couple entered the empty lounge and made their way up onto the dais.

"You have something to say?" she invited as she knelt next to the open safe.

She wondered idly where the rest of the characters in the scenario was. A quick glance out the windows revealed that it was night once more, and she guessed that perhaps it was very late at night, or very early in the morning. Perhaps the scenario had a purpose for getting rid of everyone else. She hoped so, because searching the riverboat certainly hadn't worked. It would have been more efficient of course, if they could have split up into teams and searched from opposing ends, but after the attack on Ro, Janeway was leery of having anyone isolated from the rest of the holodeck participants. If only Ro hadn't gotten herself wounded, they could have done a coordinated sweep that would have caught him easily.

Janeway was still vastly annoyed with the Bajoran and not just because of the implied defiance. She wondered if she had overestimated the Bajoran's willingness to abide by her command ... or in fact, anyone's command?

"I do not like being left behind," Seven said quietly.

Janeway sighed and glanced over at her partner, having expected this. "I know," she said, gentling her tone. "But I was mobilizing my crew in the best way I knew how. I wasn't trying to protect you. I thought that B'Elanna might be able to come up with a technical way to find him, but she wasn't able to access the holodeck controls."

Seven considered that, then nodded. "Then I withdraw the comment," she said stiffly. "I erred in my assumption."

Janeway, despite her mood, flashed her partner a smile. "I've learned better than to think I can protect you darling," she reminded the young woman. "In fact, you're the one who always ends up protecting me."

Seven blushed. "I am sorry, Kathryn," she said, a little more sincerely. "I was mistaken in my judgment."

Janeway raised her hand, waving it off. "Annika, if the purpose of the crime was to kill Jennings," she said, refocusing them on the topic at hand, "why steal the money?"

"Perhaps it was not stolen," Seven noted reasonably. "Perhaps there was no money to begin with."

Startled, Janeway turned and looked at her. "No money?" she repeated slowly, thinking about that. "What makes you come up with that conclusion?"

"It is not a conclusion, it is speculation," Seven corrected. "It is assumed that there was money in the safe, but I did not see it nor, as far as I know, did anyone else. Not even Lt. Ro who was supposedly guarding it."

"Well, this just gets more confusing," Janeway said, putting her hands on her hips and regarding the safe in bemusement. "They say that there's only two reasons to murder; love or money. That boils down to greed or passion. Which one killed Jennings?"

"I suspect if we knew the 'why', we would know the 'who'," Seven suggested. "B'Elanna mentioned that Jennings was having 'financial difficulties'. Perhaps that was part of it? Perhaps he was killed because he could not make good on his debts?"

Janeway considered that. "Could be," she allowed. "Of course, dead people are even worse at making good on their debts so perhaps it was something else. And it doesn't explain where Brophy went."

"Ro said he ambushed her down in the cargo hold," Seven noted. "Perhaps he returned there."

"Back to the scene of the crime?" Janeway said without enthusiasm. "Maybe you're right." She took another look around the lounge, then shrugged. "We're certainly not finding anything out here."

She and Seven left the salon and headed for the riverboat's interior. Janeway had to force herself to remember that this was a very real danger ... the attack on Ro was proof enough ... but right now, she was becoming decidedly bored and wanted nothing more than to simply be out of the holodeck. Scientific mysteries were one thing, something that intrigued and piqued her curiosity, but this sort of roleplaying was entertaining only in limited doses. It was even more tedious when she was being forced into playing it rather than it being voluntary on her part. At this point, she thought she would easily kill just to be back home in her quarters and in a nice hot bath.

When they arrived at the hatch which gave entrance to the deck below, Seven stopped the captain from entering first, pressing an arm over her chest to stay her momentum.

"Let me precede you," she insisted. "My physiology is better suited to withstand a projectile wound."

"Not if the projectile hits you between the eyes," Janeway grumbled. "I'm a smaller target." But she had to allow the logic of her partner's statement even as she disliked the whole idea of it immensely.

Seven carefully withdrew her weapon which was sufficient to raise Janeway's adrenaline level, and suddenly the captain wasn't bored at all anymore as she followed Seven down into the hold that smelled mustily of grain and cotton. The bales and sacks were stacked high as they wound their way through the maze created by the cargo, stopping in a small open place where a dark patch stained the floor.

"This must be where Ro was attacked," Janeway whispered, and then wondered why she was whispering. Seven must have wondered as well, because she offered her a vaguely bemused look.

The silence was oppressive and the captain felt a shiver of dread go down her spine even as she knew how foolish it was. Still, with the holodeck safeties off, one could be killed just as easily with a bullet to the heart as by a disruptor beam. But, oh, what a stupid way for a Starfleet captain to die, she thought irritably. Or worse, for the woman she loved to die. Not to mention the fact that Ro was damned lucky she hadn't been killed while messing around.

That reminder made the fear disappear as a slow, dull anger began to rise within the compact captain. A hologram had attacked one of her crewmembers, and by god, she would simply not stand for that.

"Give me your weapon," she said shortly to her partner.

"No," Seven responded, looking at her in surprise.

"Seven," Janeway insisted. She kept herself from stamping her foot, but just barely.

Seven held it out of the captain's reach. "I am perfectly capable of wielding this weapon," she said stubbornly. "Furthermore, my manual implant is programmed to use it efficiently while you are unfamiliar with utilizing a projectile weapon."

"Seven, I'm ordering you to give me your weapon," Janeway repeated, her voice a command whip this time.

Seven stared at her, visibly outraged and hurt, but finally, with great reluctance, she handed her gun over, butt first, to the captain. Then she promptly looked up. "Computer, supply me with another loaded weapon," she instructed. "One that I had concealed in my vest prior to leaving the suite." Immediately, a bulge appeared in Seven's pocket and she drew out a compact silver pistol, not as large as the one she had just given Janeway, but apparently just as deadly.

Janeway was mortified that she could have simply made the same request rather than pull rank on her partner. However, she didn't say that, merely offering Seven a look that was half-exasperation and half-apology as they resumed their exploration of the cargo bay. She had known that the players could always request more equipment as long as a crucial event within the scenario wasn't occurring ... as apparently, crawling around in the cargo hold was not ... but it had slipped her mind. She supposed it hadn't occurred to her because the safeties were off, and the last thing she wanted was to create more weapons. It was still a lapse in judgement that she hadn't needed to indulge. Seven had not said anything further either, but the expression on her face spoke volumes to the captain who suspected she'd be paying for this one in the near future.

There was a sound at the far end of the hold and both women froze, exchanging a glance. Janeway made a motion with her hand, indicating that Seven should take the starboard passage through the cargo while she took the other. Seven looked stubborn again, but nodded, easing between two stacks of grain as Janeway crept along the wider passage, necessitated by her skirts which could not go into narrow corners easily.

Concealed in an obscure section of the hold, they discovered James Brophy, barely alive, blood spilling from a wound in his stomach. His beady eyes were slitted against the pain, and he attempted to raise his gun when he saw the two women but was unable to complete the motion, the weapon falling down onto the wooden deck with a muffled thud.

"Just wonderful," Janeway said without pleasure as she watched Seven prudently kick the gun away from the fatally wounded man. "More complications."

He motioned for the captain to come closer and distastefully, Janeway realized she would have to get down on the deck next to him, no doubt making a mess of her skirts in the generous pool of gore. Sighing, resisting the urge to wrinkle her nose, she knelt beside him, putting her ear next to the trembling lips.

"Black book ... in my belt..." he whispered, making a motion with his hand toward his abdomen. Then he expired in a properly dramatic, holographic manner, eyes rolling back in the head, a gout of blood spurting from his mouth, body slumping realistically to the deck. Janeway rolled her eyes, and wondered how long he had been required to wait until someone had found him so he could deliver his message and die.

"This is becoming tiresome," Janeway muttered and pulled open the accountant's sodden clothes, finding a money belt wound tightly around his waist. It would have been easy to overlook it without his directions because it was obscured in the blood from his wound. The thin fabric had not deflected the bullet at all as it tore through it and him.

"Why the hell couldn't he just tell us who the killer is, since it's obviously not him?" she sniped, as she worked at the band of material. Snugly contained within the inside pocket of the money belt, there was a small notebook and with two fingers, she eased the damp pages out gingerly. She handed it to Seven before wiping her fingers fastidiously on her petticoats. "Tell me what's in it," she demanded.

Seven eyed her indulgently and holstered her gun before carefully peeling apart the pages of the tattered and bloodied notebook. "Much of the writing has been obscured," she informed her partner, "but it appears to be Jennings' diary or ledger. There is a list of figures indicating that Jennings owed Mr. Brophy a considerable amount, but that he intended to make good on them with the results of this tournament."

"So Brophy had no reason to kill Jennings?" Janeway mused out loud.

"Perhaps we were operating under a faulty assumption," Seven offered. She continued to work her way through the book, raising an eyebrow at one point. "There is a notation about Michael Sullivan in here."

Janeway went over to her, peering down at the book as she tried to read it upside down.

"It has a question mark next to his name," Janeway said. "And another question beneath. 'Does Maggie know?'" She looked blankly at her partner. "Know what?"

"Obviously, that is something we must ask Miss Maggie since the next few pages are too damaged to read," Seven remarked. She regarded the body thoughtfully. "Ro indicated that she had not fired a shot at him prior to passing out from her wound, yet she seemed convinced it was Brophy who attacked her. Why would he then, in turn, be shot by someone else? And if he was shot for this black book, why did the killer leave it behind?"

"Maybe they were frightened off before they had a chance to search for him," Janeway suggested. "It appears that there was a lot of weapons fire going on down here and maybe they were afraid that if they stuck around, they'd be discovered?" She took another look at the crime scene. "It looks as if Brophy was able to stumble or drag himself to this spot. Perhaps he was able to hide from his assailant, and the killer gave up before he or she found him."

"Perhaps," Seven allowed uncertainly. She regarded Janeway, her pale eyes suddenly alight and Janeway suspected that an idea had suddenly occurred to her partner. She wasn't sure, considering the situation, if she was going to like it or not, however. "Kathryn, this black book seems to be the key. If we release the information that I have it, perhaps the killer will come to us rather than us futilely searching for him ... or her."

"Use yourself as bait, you mean?" Janeway responded, staring at her. "I don't like that idea at all, Annika."

"I presume if you were the one being utilized as bait, it would be an acceptable plan in that event?" Seven returned, a trifle acerbically.

Janeway hesitated, then realized by her pause and the sardonic look in her partner's eyes that she had just answered the Borg's pointed sally. "Fine," she said, disgruntled. "But only if we prepare this properly. I don't want to have to drag a bullet-riddled Borg to sickbay, is that understood?"

"Quite," Seven replied, just a touch smugly.

Janeway dug her thumb into the young woman's ribs as she passed her and ignored the small sound of amusement Seven made as they headed out of the cargo hold, leaving the body behind.

Back in the suite, Janeway noted that Ro's eyes seemed unusually reddened, as did B'Elanna's, but the captain did not comment on it as she filled them in on what the couple had learned.

"Have you spoken to Maggie yet?" B'Elanna asked. The captain noted how close the engineer was sitting to Ro and she wondered if, in some insane way, Seven's plan to reconcile the two had worked. She didn't know how, but if it had, she was aware that she would never hear the end of it.

"Not yet," Janeway said. "I wanted to prepare Seven a little. I would also rather make the girl the target rather than Seven, so we'll have to create a big show of giving her back the black book. Then we'll keep an eye on her and grab whoever makes an attempt on her life."

"How will we accomplish that?" B'Elanna asked.

Her partner was also looking at her curiously, and Janeway favored her astrometrics officer with a bit of an evil grin.

"You wanted to roleplay, Seven," the captain told her. "I'm going to give you a chance to do it for real."

B'Elanna and Janeway concealed themselves on the floor of the salon beneath the buffet table, hidden by a heavy tablecloth which hung to the floor. Through a slit in the musty cloth, the Klingon could see Seven of Nine who was standing with, what the Borg undoubtedly thought was casual disregard, and B'Elanna decided was very reminiscent of a cat about to pounce on a canary. Hopefully, the holograms were not so discerning. She worried briefly about Ro but she knew the Bajoran was more than capable of taking care of herself, particularly since she had barricaded herself in the suite and had been fully equipped with several additional weapons before they had left her.

She glanced over at the captain who was studying the Borg like a hawk, her blue-grey eyes the exact color of slate at the moment and the Klingon nudged her gently with her elbow.

"Are we having fun yet?" she whispered.

Despite the situation, the captain laughed quietly. "I know, this is insane, isn't it?" she agreed ruefully. "But it was the best I could come up with in a hurry.  The fact that Maggie is coming here for a 'secret meeting' with Miss Kate's bodyguard, whom she's been trying to get into bed since the scenario began, should get around the boat very quickly. I sent the cabin boy to her with the message. He's obviously designated as the message bearer in this program since Harry was able to utilize him for communications link, so hopefully the killer will find out as well. When and if he shows up, we can jump him. I know I'm damned tired of hanging around this holodeck and it doesn't appear that your engineering crew is going to be able to unseal the doors."

"To be fair, Captain," B'Elanna pointed out, "have you ever known an engineering team in the history of the 'fleet to be able to unseal holodeck doors when there's a malfunction? I sure would like to know what Starfleet Command had in mind when they designed the damn things."

"I would guess privacy," Janeway remarked with a sigh. "We both know what a holodeck is traditionally used for, and people have a distinct interest in maintaining a strong seal on the door in that event."

"I hadn't thought of that," B'Elanna admitted, trying not to blush. As earthy as she prided herself in being, this was the captain she was talking to. "I guess there is an enhanced locking mechanism on the doors that isn't standard issue for other areas of the ship."

"Not to mention that I know for a fact Seven has, in the past, used Borg encryption codes to seal it," Janeway said. "The malfunction probably scrambled those as well. I guess I am being too hard on your team, Lieutenant."

As intrigued as she was by this little tidbit of information, B'Elanna still did not have the courage to ask why Seven would feel compelled to utilize such a method to seal the door above and beyond the regular locking codes. She did wonder, however, if the captain had been with her and what exactly they had been doing in the holodeck to warrant such privacy. Occupied with these possibilities, she didn't notice the Borg signaling to them until Janeway nudged her sharply with her elbow.

B'Elanna felt her adrenaline level rise and she narrowed her eyes, waiting for whomever would come through the door, the Borg's enhanced hearing detecting the footsteps long before either the captain or the engineer had. She expected it to be Maggie Jennings however, and had that expectation fulfilled when the delicate Southern belle strode gracefully in the room.

"Seven," the girl's dulcet tones greeted, somewhat anxiously. "I received your note. You have information about my father?"

Her eyes seemed fixated on Seven's face with a certain amount of wariness that did not quite make sense with a character who should be trying to lure the Borg into bed. For some reason, B'Elanna suddenly didn't think that Seven would have much luck with seducing the girl ... even if she had any experience at it.

"I wanted to let you know that I have found your father's black book," Seven told her, reaching out to put her hands on the young woman's arms and regarding her with an odd expression. B'Elanna identified it as a rather poor attempt at a provocative leer. "Now that we have it, I shall be able to protect you from the killer. I know it must be one of the other players."

B'Elanna shot a glance at Janeway and the captain shrugged lightly. After all, this was Seven. The Borg was not known for being able to carry off a deception easily. The most she could manage was an arrogant and superior look, which had worked well with the Devore Imperium when they were searching the ship a year or so ago, but probably would not succeed in this situation. However, it was possible that the holoprogram would allow for that and adapt accordingly. In either case, Seven's purpose was to acquire the trust of the young woman in the hopes that she would offer more information about what might have been in the writings that they had been unable to decipher.

So it was with disappointment that B'Elanna watched Maggie suddenly back away from the Borg, regarding her with no little trepidation. "You have daddy's book?" she asked. "Did you read it?"

Seven pulled it out of her vest and showed the book to the young woman. B'Elanna felt a decided tingle of dismay shoot down her back when a small pistol suddenly appeared in the young woman's hand, aimed directly at the Borg's heart. That was something no one had expected, and B'Elanna could feel the captain tense in alarm next to her.

"Miss Maggie?" Seven asked coolly, raising an eyebrow. She had to be aware that things were going horribly wrong, B'Elanna thought frantically, because she was reverting back to her Borg mannerisms, as if they would somehow protect her. "I do not understand."

"Take your guns out and put them down on the floor slowly," Maggie said, her voice hard. Seven hesitated and the young girl raised the gun for emphasis. Carefully, Seven reached down and drew out her weapons, laying them down on the floor by her feet. "Kick them over there." Seven obeyed and B'Elanna cursed under her breath that the Borg had kicked them in the opposite direction from where she and Janeway were hiding. Maggie gestured with her gun. "Now give me the book."

"Explain," Seven demanded as she carefully tossed the book over to the girl.

"Daddy's power came from this book," Maggie said. "I knew I had to take it from the safe along with the money or it could ruin any chance I had for a future. He kept secrets on everyone in it, including me."

At that moment, Michael Sullivan entered the room and when Maggie offered him no more than a glance, B'Elanna realized that the Voyager crewmembers had been completely on the wrong track in solving this murder. The Irishman and the Southern belle had been working together for some reason.

"When I told Daddy that Michael and I were going to be married, he threatened to cut me off," the girl continued to the Borg who was listening intently. "So I had to take the money from the safe before we ran off together." She paused, tears forming in her eyes. "I didn't mean to kill Daddy," she said. "But he interrupted me. I don't know why he wasn't out on the deck with everyone else. He was supposed to be, but Michael couldn't keep him out there."

Or sent him back in to catch Maggie in the act, B'Elanna thought furiously, with an enlightenment that came far too late.

"What was Brophy's role in all this?" Seven asked, looking uneasily between the girl with the pistol and the other hologram.

"He found me standing over Daddy before anyone else came in," she explained. "Daddy owed him money, and when he saw that he was dead, he tried to make me pay him. But, I had already hidden the bag, so I told him that there was no money, that Daddy had taken it himself and paid off another debt. He didn't seem to believe me. Instead, he took the book from me and told me that if I didn't find a way to pay him, he would use the information in it the same way that Daddy did. I was supposed to get the money somehow and bring it to him in the cargo hold. He slipped out and that's when I started to scream ... to try to throw people off the scent. I told Michael about Brophy and he tried to take care of it for me."

"I told the U.S. Marshall where Brophy could be found and I hoped he would arrest him on the warrant he had, or better yet, shoot him," Sullivan added in his brogue, which was not nearly so charming now. He lit a cigarette, the smoke wreathing his face. "After all, Brophy's wanted, dead or alive, back in Washington for his double deals with the South, but unfortunately, Brophy took out the Marshall which meant I had to take care of Brophy. But he got away before I could get the book back from him."

"Where's the money now?" Seven asked.

Sullivan shrugged. "Maggie has it," he said. He cast an approving look on his partner in crime. "She didn't even tell me where she had hidden it."

"But now it's time for us to leave," Maggie added, "and when I get the money from beneath the dais, Michael and I will be free to live happily ever after."

B'Elanna rolled her eyes and wondered how stupid the holograms had to be to make this scenario work.

"It's under that dais?" Sullivan asked sharply.

"Yes," Maggie said. "That's why Brophy believed me when I told him there had never been any money in the safe. He never saw me hide it and I certainly didn't have it anywhere on me." Her face twisted distastefully. "Though he still searched me. Mr. Brophy was no gentleman." She handed her weapon over to Sullivan to cover Seven while she reached down and pried open a panel, revealing a secret compartment containing a bag of money. When she straightened, the weapon was now covering her and from another door, Ruby Lil appeared, also holding a gun.

"Wait until they're closer together," Janeway hissed in a barely audible voice to B'Elanna who felt her heart lurch as she realized the captain was working on a plan.

"We'll take that, my dear," Ruby told the astounded girl, as she crossed the room and grabbed the bag from the Southern belle's suddenly nerveless hands. "You won't be needing it where you're going and frankly, Michael and I can find better uses for it."

"Michael?" Maggie was as clearly surprised by this as the Voyager crew.

"Sorry, lass," Michael said suavely. "But when I came up with the idea to steal the money, it was really the book tucked in the bag that I wanted."

"Among many other things that will be useful in future blackmail attempts, it contains information that Mr. Sullivan had worked with Ruby Lil in Washington," Seven spoke up and B'Elanna rather wished she hadn't, since that meant the holograms were now looking at the Borg again. She did wonder how the astrometrics officer had come to such a conclusion, however. "Indeed, Jennings was killed for the book, just as you claimed, Miss Maggie. You simply never realized that you were used as their weapon of choice."

"Michael was one of my best boys in Washington," Lil boasted. "And it wasn't me that Beau liked to visit, little girl, it was Michael." She smiled evilly at Maggie's pale face. "Yes, child, he had both you and your father."

Maggie looked devastated and Sullivan looked vaguely apologetic. "Here now, lass," he offered.  "It wasn't anything personal, you see. It's just business."

"You bastard," she exclaimed. She snatched for something in her skirts, somehow able to pull out another pistol which she fired at the prostitute, barely missing Seven, who prudently turned her body sideways to make a smaller target. She quickly edged away from the startled Sullivan.

"On three," Janeway hissed at the same time. "We throw the table."

Startled, B'Elanna glanced at her but swiftly curled up to get her legs beneath her, placing her hands on the underside of the table above them even as Janeway mimicked the motion.

"One," Janeway muttered, inhaling deeply.  "Two. THREE!"

The last was yelled as both women uncoiled together and the table, propelled by a Starfleet captain who was terrified for her partner, and a Klingon engineer, who was working up a rather nice rage, was launched across the room, crashing into Maggie and Ruby Lil. Seven took advantage of this distraction to leap on Sullivan, wrestling him to the ground. Unfortunately, the holoprogram ... just to make it interesting ... adjusted to the Borg's enhanced strength and increased the hologram's matrix to match it. It was something that the computer did quite often to make a scenario 'fair', but at the moment, the Voyager crew could do with a little less 'fair' and a lot more advantage as abruptly, the Borg found herself with a far stronger opponent than she was used to. Frantically, both she and the hologram scrambled to gain possession of the weapon and more than one bullet was triggered by their conflict, fortunately to impact on the ceiling or in the walls. As yet, neither had been able to bring it to bear on any of the other combatants.

B'Elanna, however, did not have much time to observe her friend before she found herself with problems of her own. She leaped onto Miss Maggie, who was crawling out from under the table, only to discover that the young woman was no lady. In fact, she was more reminiscent of a Klingon targ, all teeth and claws which she used with equal measure on the engineer. B'Elanna struck her several times with respectable body blows but the woman seemed immune to her punches and very quickly, the Klingon was being throttled by the genteel Southern belle as they rolled about the floor. From the corner of her eye, she saw Janeway in a rather nasty scrap with Ruby Lil. The ex-madam was doing her best to cave in the captain's head with a shattered table leg, and Janeway was utilizing her best dockside brawling technique to avoid the wild swings. There was no question that the outfits the two Voyager crewmembers were wearing were severely affecting their ability to fight while the holograms did not seem to have the same concern. Apparently, while Starfleet martial arts trainers had not considered the need to fight in hoop skirts and low bodices, the holographic programers had.

B'Elanna's vision was growing dark when there was a series of loud bangs, and Miss Maggie's hands fell away from her throat, the girl slumping heavily onto the Klingon. Gasping for air, the engineer shoved the dead weight off her and rolled to her feet, looking across the room, her eyes widening with astonishment. Standing in the entrance, her face pale as freshly driven snow while bright crimson stained the bandage around her shoulder, Ro Laren regarded her battered crewmates sardonically. She was leaning weakly against the door frame and she used the barrel of her smoking gun to tip her hat back from her dark eyes.

"Like I said, as the U.S. Marshall, I'm the one who has to finish the scenario," she said dryly. "I'm the hero." She twirled her weapon as neatly as Seven had managed in the beginning and holstered it on her hip.

Janeway rolled out from beneath the body of Ruby Lil and staggered over to where Seven was untangling from Sullivan's corpse. All three were liberally covered with the blood of their foes, and it was obvious by the gingerly way everyone was standing that no one had escaped without bumps and bruises.

"That's one way to end things," Janeway offered, a trifle testily as she helped Seven to her feet where she promptly leaned on the Borg for support. "Kill them all and let the program sort it out."

"Probably should have done it sooner," Ro agreed. She lowered her eyes. "My fault for taking myself out of the scenario. It won't happen again."

Janeway stared at her for a moment, then nodded as if deciding something. "See that it doesn't," she offered quietly.

B'Elanna swallowed painfully and shifted her feet, aware she had pulled something in her left calf. She cleared her throat, wanting to break the sudden, terse silence. "So why hasn't the scenario ended?" she rasped, rubbing her neck gingerly.

"Perhaps because no one has said 'End Program'," Seven suggested.

At the Borg's words, an exit abruptly appeared at the end of the lounge and the doors obediently slid open to reveal an astonished and frustrated engineering team who had been working futilely on the locking mechanism. B'Elanna moved over to Ro and offered her arm.

"Can I escort you to sickbay?" she asked politely.

"Maybe you'd better carry me," Ro returned, and promptly passed out, the Klingon barely able to catch her before she hit the floor. Janeway, groaning loudly as she and Seven entered their quarters, began to tug at the outfit she had been forced to wear for the holoprogram. Now ripped and stained, it made her look as if she had been dragged over a kilometer of bad road. The entire scenario had, in the end, required eight hours to complete and Seven knew that was too long to spend in the holodeck ... even if the captain had been enjoying herself, which was certainly not the case during the final four hours. The Borg slipped past her partner and into the bedroom, heading for the ensuite where she activated the tub, the hot water gushing into it from four nozzles. She added some of the salts and bath oils that the captain enjoyed so much, filling the air with a light, woodsy fragrance that served to clear her head as she stacked a pile of fluffy towels on the shelf nearby.

"Oh, darling, you've read my mind," Janeway sighed as she appeared in the door, still struggling with her dress.

Seven went over to her partner, working at all the archaic hooks, buttons and stays that the captain was wearing, frowning mightily as she saw the bruises and scrapes over Janeway's body from her tussle in the salon.

"Oh, Kathryn," she said, dismayed.

"Hey, we won, remember," Janeway said with a weary grin. She stepped out of the undergarments and lowered herself into the tub with a groan of honest relief. "Oh, god, thank you, darling. This feels absolutely sublime."

"You are welcome," Seven said, taking a moment to stroke the back of the captain's neck lightly, feeling the shiver of fear for her spouse echo through her. Now that they were home, she could allow herself to react to what had happened ... or rather, what could have happened. "Relax, now."

She quickly stripped off her gunslinger outfit, tossing it into the replicator to be absorbed back into the pattern buffer, and took a quick shower before drying herself off. She pulled on her black silk robe and went out to the living area where she retrieved a bottle of wine, pouring a generous glass for her partner which she carried carefully back into the ensuite. Kneeling on the tiles next to the tub, Seven tucked her long legs underneath her body and leaned against the edge, smiling faintly as she regarded her partner. Janeway was leaning back in her bath, her eyes shut and a blissful expression on her face as she soaked in the scented water. The captain's eyelids opened as she sensed her partner nearby and she smiled warmly as she accepted the glass of wine.

"You are too good to me, my love," she said, sipping it with evident pleasure.

"Not 'too good'," Seven said ruefully. "My plan for our afternoon of recreation turned out to be far less than perfect."

Janeway laughed huskily. "That's why we keep trying, Annika," she told her, reaching out with her fingertips to put them under Seven's chin and pull her face closer. She kissed the Borg gently, lingeringly, tasting of wine and not a little enticement. "Perfection isn't the goal, it's in the trying to achieve it."

"Ah," Seven murmured. "I am glad you explained that."

"And the truth is, it wasn't all that bad," Janeway added. "I actually had some fun now and again, even after it went all wrong."

Seven sighed. "I wish I had understood the roles better," she said. "If I had been aware that the 'guard with a secret' was the 'hero' of the scenario and thus, was the one required to solve it, I would have asked that you take it." She paused. "You have always been my hero, Kathryn."

Janeway smiled, stroking the Borg's cheek lovingly. "Darling, you are mine," she said. "And I don't think the roles were locked in so tightly ... any one of us could have ended the scenario by solving the crime. The role merely determined the level of difficulty and as the U.S. Marshal, Ro could get away with simply shooting all the killers once they revealed themselves. Our real problem was that none of the rest of us had a clue who the killer was until it was far too late. Technically, it was a loss for us and the scenario would have reset with a new killer, if Ro hadn't stepped in and finished it. We'd probably still be in there, otherwise."

Seven still felt dissastified. "I should have researched it further."

Janeway cupped the Borg's chin in her palm. "Love, recreation is just that, " she said seriously. "It's meant to be fun and I don't want you to make yourself responsible for whether I enjoy myself or not. That's not your job. Instead, let's just appreciate the fact that we were able to spend the afternoon together." She raised an eyebrow. "And pat yourself on the back because I believe your little plan to have Ro and B'Elanna make peace seemed to work, if how they looked in sickbay is any indication."

Seven blushed. "I do believe it accomplished that task, at least," she admitted quietly. "Perhaps overall, that part of the day's plan was a success."

Janeway laughed. "You were lucky," she said. "Don't let it go to your head."

"I shall not, Kathryn," Seven promised gravely, but she allowed her amusement to show in her face.

The captain regarded Seven intently, her eyes deepening their color, her gaze growing lidded with sensuality. "So now that it's over, why don't you get in the tub with me?" she asked huskily. "I need you to wash my back."

Seven raised an eyebrow. "Wash your back?" she repeated skeptically.

"You know I can't reach the really dirty spots," Janeway said as she reached down to tug at the tie of Seven's robe, trying to loosen it.

"I was not aware of that," Seven said dryly as she allowed her partner to cajole her into the bathtub, slipping out of her robe and into the hot water behind Janeway. "Now I know why you married me."

"That and your cooking," Janeway agreed as she hummed happily and wiggled to make room for her partner, the water sloshing slightly as they positioned themselves. Seven nuzzled the nap of Janeway's neck, wrapping one arm around the captain's abdomen as she groped around for the sponge with the other.

"Drink?" Janeway asked, offering her partner the wineglass over her shoulder.

Seven took a sip, feeling the liquid filter down her esophagus and spread warmth throughout her body at an unnatural pace. "The food in the holodeck was not real," she noted, realizing that she had overlooked that fact when she brought the wine in. "We should not drink anymore ... not until we can have dinner."

"Hmm, I wondered why this seemed to be hitting me so hard," Janeway agreed. "I forgot that we haven't really eaten since lunch." She placed the half-full glass carefully on the shelf beside them and leaned comfortably against Seven, preventing the Borg's attempt to scrub her spine.

"How can I wash your back," Seven asked logically, "if you are pressed against me?"

"You can't," Janeway responded cheerfully. "Wash my front instead."

"Ah," Seven said, seeing where this was going. Of course, she had seen where this was going about two hours into the scenario when the captain had been flirting with her on the deck of the riverboat. "Where is the soap?"

Janeway shifted. "I think I'm sitting on it," she said, fishing around with her hand under the water until she came up triumphantly with the bar which the Borg had tossed in the water when she got in. It was an antibacterial soap containing aloe and other herbs which would promote healing and soothe bruises. She handed it to Seven who immediately lathered it over her sponge, making sure she had plenty of the medicinal suds on the fabric.

Then the Borg began to rub the cloth gently over Janeway's chest and shoulders, down over her breasts and belly, enjoying how the soap slipped slickly over the pale skin dusted lightly with freckles. Janeway put her head back on Seven's shoulders, purring audibly as her partner helpfully washed away the last of the grime acquired in the holoprogram, including a little real blood from a few small cuts on the captain's arms and shoulders.

Seven frowned as she carefully cleaned them. "I should have insisted the Doctor examine you while we were in sickbay," she said softly, bending down to kiss each one gently. "Ro was not the only one who required treatment."

"For this?" Janeway responded, not opening her eyes. "Not a chance. You make me feel far better than the Doctor ever could, anyway."

"The soap will not be enough," Seven remarked. "I still require the use of a dermal regenerator, and I should also prepare our dinner."

She made an abortive attempt to get out of the tub, stymied immediately as Janeway refused to let her up. Water sloshed over the side as Seven slipped back into the bath with a thud.

"No," the captain told her, turning around so that she was lying on top of Seven. Deliberately, she took the sponge from the Borg and tossed it aside as she wrapped her arms around Seven's neck and kissed her passionately. "I certainly don't need dinner when I have you, my darling. Nor do I need a device to heal these few bumps and bruises. Don't you know that you do more than feed and heal my body? You feed and heal my heart and my soul. You are everything that I could ever want or will ever need." She kissed her again, deeply, longingly, almost as if she wanted to absorb the young woman into her every pore.

Pleased by the poetic, if uncharacteristically romantic, outburst of her spouse, Seven returned the kiss with steadily increasing interest. Her arms embraced the slippery form as she hugged Janeway close and she inhaled her partner's warm breath into her lungs, basking in its full-bodied elixir. Janeway moaned softly, impossibly deepening the kiss even more, pressed so tightly to the Borg that it was difficult for Seven to determine where she left off and the captain began. It was obvious that not only was her partner reacting to Seven in her accustomed fashion while taking a bath together, but that the danger Janeway had been in and emerged triumphant from, had greatly enhanced her desire. Seven found her respiration markedly accelerated when they finally parted, and Janeway's hands moved restlessly over her, making no secret of her intent.

"Here?" Seven murmured, knowing better than to try to temper this. The most she could do was try to keep up. "Or in bed?"

"Mmm, such a hard decision," Janeway whispered, nibbling over Seven's throat and jaw, as she stroked the Borg's sides and hips. "But the bed is probably better. I don't want to risk drowning, and I certainly don't want to drown you."

"No," Seven agreed with a smile. "We do not want that."

The women rose from the tub, finding fluffy, oversized towels to dry each other off amid slow, lingering caresses and kisses that grew hotter with each passing second.

"You were so sexy in that outfit," Janeway told her as they stumbled into the bedroom, still hanging on to each other.

Seven quirked an eyebrow. "Perhaps I should retrieve my hat and boots," she responded as she pulled the bedding down with one hand, hugging Janeway to her with the other arm, "to wear as we make love."

Janeway laughed as they fell onto the sheets, limbs entwined. "That won't be necessary. You're sexy out of the outfit as well," she pointed out. She tightened her embrace. "And I don't want you to go anywhere at the moment."

Seven smiled and kissed Janeway's neck, suckling a bit to create a mark, which she then soothed over with her tongue. "I will not leave you," she promised softly. "Not now. Not ever."

"I'll hold you to that," Janeway told her, pulling her up so that she could access her mouth again.

Seven happily complied, settling lightly on top of her partner as she funneled all her concentration into kissing Janeway, tender, whisper-soft kisses that alternated with deeply demanding ones, tasting her beloved partner thoroughly. It was something the young woman believed she would be more than glad to indulge in all night, and for a good long while, it seemed that Janeway would allow it. But eventually, the captain's caresses became a bit more urgent, more needful and Seven reluctantly left the tender mouth to trail slowly down the captain's body.

Seven never tired of this particular exploration over familiar ground, deeply appreciative of every millimeter of flesh she passed over, showing that appreciation with kisses and licks and the occasional nibble, using her fingertips to stroke any areas that her mouth missed. Janeway gasped and moaned, not ashamed to vocally offer her gratitude for what Seven was doing, arching up to the Borg's lips and tongue, sometimes holding the young woman's head in place to prolong the attention before eventually releasing her so that she could continue the pleasurable journey down the captain's form.

Seven was mesmerized with textures and shapes, the soft roundness of womanly curves, the smooth plane of muscle and bone, the velvet softness of tender skin, the wiry strength of hair that she nuzzled, soft against her cheeks. The scent was intoxicating, alluring, drawing her ever downward until she reached moisture and sensitive flesh, plunging into it with an eagerness that both startled and pleased her partner who voiced her approval in less than elegant terms.

The Borg was used to such verbal outbursts however, and merely smiled as she laved the sweet center with lusty attention, alternating with the most delicate of touches, drawing out Janeway's desire until Seven could no longer ignore the demanding hands tangled in her hair, pulling her face tight to this pool of pleasure. Obligingly, she intensified her oral caresses, directed them to specific areas, knowing exactly what was needed and how much. Her spouse cried out, fluttering around the skilled tongue, her body a perfect bow of ecstasy before collapsing back onto the mattress in a sweaty heap, unable to respond any further to Seven's touch beyond involuntary twitches that the Borg persisted in inciting until it was more discomfort than pleasure.

Then, and only then, did the young woman make her languid return journey, soothing over the quiescent and sated body, until she was once more relaxing comfortably on the captain, kissing her deeply.

"You, my love, are an absolute treasure," Janeway whispered against Seven's lips.

"Better than winning the grand prize of a poker tournament?" Seven asked teasingly.

"Oh, darling," Janeway murmured, "Better than when I graduated the Academy, better than when they gave me my fourth pip, better than when command of Voyager was handed to me ... better than the day we eventually pull into orbit around Earth."

Suitably impressed with her place in Janeway's list of priorities, Seven smiled and kissed her partner again, knowing that Janeway's flavor lingered on her mouth, still keen and obviously accepted willingly by the captain, who devoured the Borg's lips. Now free to indulge in her own desire, Seven curled her body over Janeway, burying her face in the warm hollow of her spouse's neck and shoulder, bringing her knees up on either side of Janeway's hips and lifting herself up enough for the captain to touch her lusciously with her long, elegant fingers.

Seven moaned, delighting in the tactile pleasure swirling over her craving, the fingertips dipping into wetness teasingly, then tracing further afield to touch the circular orifice, not yet penetrating either, merely indicating that she could, until Seven was almost insane from it.

"Kathryn," she whispered, "please."

"What do you want, darling?" Janeway asked, voice husky and commanding in the Borg's ear. "This?" She rubbed Seven's swollen and aching node firmly, sending a rush of sheer pleasure through the young woman. "This?" Two fingers, penetrating briefly, thrusting deep, making Seven gasp and groan with need. "This?" A gentle probe, a single insertion done with care and love, intimately exploring, heightening Seven's anticipation.

"Yes," Seven mumbled. "All of them. Everything."

Janeway nuzzled her. "Everything," she promised. "I want to give it all to you, my darling."

The captain slid down a little on the bed, granting her better leverage and Seven curled up even more, hovering over Janeway protectively even as she surrendered utterly to her. Janeway brought her other hand up, and Seven made a sound, involuntary, deep, midway between a moan and a cry as her partner took her, gentle fingers slipping with aching slowness into her, both entries in perfect rhythm as Janeway's thumb circled and fondled the tiny erection until Seven felt herself lost in pleasure and delight. Fighting for breath, her forearms cradling Janeway shoulders ... but palm down so that her left hand dug into unfeeling mattress rather than vulnerable flesh ... she shivered uncontrollably over her partner. It seemed that she trembled on the brink forever, then it was too much to stave off any longer and Seven shuddered again and again as the spasms took her, shook her, let her go finally, sobbing from the release.

Carefully, Janeway withdrew, wrapping her arms around the larger body looming over her and pulling it down onto her, obviously welcoming her partner's weight on her in this moment of complete helplessness. Yet, even then, Seven tried to keep the greater part of her mass on her elbows and knees.

"My darling," Janeway crooned. "My wonderful, most precious darling. I love you so much."

Seven sought out her partner's lips, kissing her with her whole soul, feeling the pounding of her heart gradually ease, the need for breath grow less.

"I love you, Kathryn," she whispered.

Janeway held the Borg's head between her hands, holding her still as she kissed her until Seven thought she might pass out from the sheer bliss of it.

Then, gradually, they relaxed and Seven, cradling Janeway in her arms, rolled them over until they were on their sides. She reached down and pulled the blankets up around them, creating a warm haven for them as they snuggled in the center of their large bed, feeling infinitely at peace. They basked in the afterglow, gentle touches of lips and soft strokes of fingertips, but Janeway was still a little restless, not falling asleep as Seven would have initially expected. Instead, she kept shifting, looking out to the other room and there was an expression in her eyes that Seven had learned to recognize.

"Mmm, Seven of Mine," Janeway mumbled finally.

"Yes, my Kathryn," Seven replied, amused both at the new appellation Janeway had bestowed upon her in recent days and because she knew what was coming.

There was a pause. "I'm hungry," Janeway admitted in an embarrassed tone. "Can we have dinner now?"

The sound that came out of Seven then, surprised her and startled her, but was oddly familiar, nonetheless. Not to her, in particular since becoming a Borg drone, but one that she had heard many times from others. Now, in herself, she could not prevent it, and indeed, did not want to.

Seven laughed out loud, fully and with happy pleasure, as she hugged her partner.

"I thought I was all you would ever need," she reminded playfully.

She eased her embrace, drawing back to realize that Janeway with looking at her with wide, delighted eyes, a huge smile on her face as she stroked Seven's cheek, cupping her face in her palm.

"I'm so glad I was here for this," the captain said throatily, her eyes glinting with moisture. "Hearing your laugh is so incredibly wonderful, my darling."

Seven chuckled again. "It was inevitable that I would remember how sooner or later," she noted. "Particularly since I have been married to you."

Janeway laughed herself. "When I figure out whether that is a compliment or an insult," she said. "I'll respond to it."

"It is a compliment," Seven told her, sobering slightly. "You bring me such joy, my Kathryn. Is not laughter a result of joy?"

"It is," Janeway agreed, smiling at her tenderly. "It absolutely is, my darling."

She cradled the Borg's face in both hands and kissed her, apparently trying to convey just how much she loved her through this touch of lips and Seven thought that indeed, true joy was being with her spouse ... regardless of what circumstances they found themselves in, even a brawl on a riverboat with some very wild, wild women.

Epilogue

Ro Laren glanced over at the body slumbering peacefully in the bed next to her. She had not been all that surprised when B'Elanna had waited for her until the Doctor had finished his ministrations, but she was very pleased when the Klingon had insisted she spend the night in the engineer's quarters, simply to make sure the Bajoran got the proper amount of sleep. This was the first time the couple had gone to bed together simply for the sake of holding each other rather than for an energetic round of shared pleasure, but Ro certainly wasn't complaining. Not only had there been a lingering ache in her shoulder that not even a dermal regenerator and a bone knitter could completely remove, but she was physically, mentally and emotionally exhausted. Curling up in B'Elanna's arms and going to sleep had been sheer heaven.

Now, waking next to the Klingon, Ro realized how very much she had missed this intimate contact with the other woman ... in some ways, more intimate than they had shared before ... and how much she wanted it to continue. Carefully, she eased over, resting her head on the more compact woman's shoulder. B'Elanna stirred and muttered something before going back to sleep, but her arms crept warmly around the Bajoran and held her tightly, letting her know that even while she wasn't awake, she still wanted Ro close to her.

Ro wanted that, too. The only question in her mind was; had they managed to achieve a peace where they could work on that as a full time thing? Or were there still issues they had to resolve between them? She worried that in her mind for a while, then decided it wasn't worth staying awake for. Not when B'Elanna's body was so warm and firm beside her, not when her heart demanded that it beat in rhythm with the Klingon's.

She closed her eyes and allowed herself to sleep, knowing that the morning would arrive soon enough. There would be plenty of time to work the rest out.

Now that both truly believed that they could.

The End

•  This is a special story in the JB series.  When B.L. Miller asked if she could play around in the JB universe, I was thrilled.  Her Xena stories were some of my favorites when I started on the net and it was writers like her and LN James that taught me how to tell the difference between a graphic sex scene and a graphic love scene.

• B.L. wrote approximately 95% of this story. I added a couple of scenes and 'polished' it a bit to conform to the JB universe, but this story is primarily hers.

• Thanks to Elisa and Helen, two beta readers that came through with little time to do their job.

• Check out B.L. Miller's other stories on her WEBSITE or drop her a note at BMiller@banet.net

• This story occurs somewhere after Just Between Cigarettes, Whiskey & Wild, Wild Women.

- Gina L. Dartt

Just Between Above & Below
B.L. Miller & G.L. Dartt

The starship Voyager, thousands of light years from the Federation and still making its way home after being lost in the Delta Quadrant, eased into a high orbit around the moon circling the star system's fourth planet. From what they hoped was a secure distance, the Starfleet officers eagerly set up their scans to study the new civilization they had discovered.

"Captain, sensors confirm architecture on half the land masses," Harry Kim said from his post at Ops. A handsome young man, he still occasionally displayed certain youthful traits that hard experience had yet to erase. "The greatest concentration of lifeforms is located in the third largest continent. The culture appears primitive, but with visual and audio transmission capability, as well as chemical fuel propulsion and artificial satellite systems."

"Any evidence that they've achieved space travel?" Janeway asked, not looking up from the padd she was studying.  She was as excited about the new civilization as the next person, but they had been out here for six years, and even for an explorer like her, they tended to start running together after awhile.

"Minimal rocket vehicles have powered them to their closest moon," Tuvok, the Vulcan security chief noted. "Unmanned probes are being detected near the adjacent planets."

"The second smallest continent is made up primarily of mountainous ranges with pockets of fertile valleys and an impressive web of river systems," Harry continued. "There are many small cities located near these waterways. The readings indicate strong amounts of several useful ores as well as some which can't be identified."

"Any evidence that their scanners have spotted us?" Janeway asked.

"None," Harry said smartly. "Technology appears to be on a level with that of late 20th century Earth. Around the nineteen seventies or eighties."

"Rules regarding a First Contact of this nature are clear," Tuvok reminded calmly from his tactical station. "The Prime Directive is paramount."

"I certainly don't need any more black marks on my record, do I?" Janeway responded with a dry smile. "Plot a course out of the system, Mr. Paris."

The doors to the turbolift opened with a hiss, admitting Seven of Nine, late of the Borg Collective, onto the bridge. Janeway shot the tall, cool, blonde a quick glance, conveying her pleasure at seeing her wife for just a brief instant before the command mask slammed back into place. She wondered what had brought the astrometrics officer to the bridge. "Report."

"I recognize this system," the ex-Borg responded. "Species 724, humanoid, their uniqueness was added to the Collective 627 years ago." Seven frowned. "Evidently not all were assimilated."

"I'm sure they appreciate the oversight," Janeway said, raising an eyebrow. Perhaps the Prime Directive was not in effect here after all, putting it into a gray area. Did such a protocol exist when the species in question had already been decimated by a force that the Federation themselves were hard-pressed to match in technological levels? Usually the decision in that event was left to the captain involved, and Janeway decided that it would not hurt to replenish some supplies and find out how this group had managed to escape total assimilation. "What can you tell us about them?"

"They were a violent, if technologically primitive species with limited missile weapons, more concerned about protecting their spatial boundaries or their deities than the arrival of the Borg. They did have a unique approach to warp propulsion that made them worthy of assimilation, however."

"That was also a long time ago. A lot can change."

"Captain, signs of a rocket being fired from the center of the second largest continent," Kim said.

"Red alert, raise shields," Janeway said with surprise. For their vessel to be detected revealed a more advanced scanning system than the crew's initial reports had indicated. "Mr. Kim, send a hail."

"Aye, Captain," he replied smartly. "Response coming in, audio only." He paused and looked surprised. "Apparently, the rocket is carrying a communications relay system ... almost as if they were waiting for someone like us to come along."

"T-this is Cranel," the halting male voice said. Janeway had to force herself not to smile. The poor man sounded positively frightened out of his wits. "Is s-somebody out there?"

"This is Captain Kathryn Janeway of the starship Voyager. We are from the United Federation of Planets--"

"I-I'm from the planet Ginse. We mean you no harm. We are a peaceful ... uh, species."

"We are pleased to meet you, Cranel. Is it possible to contact the representatives of your planet?"

The Ginsian gave a short bark of laughter. "Is it? They don't believe I'm actually talking to someone, but our scans says you're out there."

"Their primitive communication array doesn't carry this far from the surface," Harry noted quietly. "Even with the relay unit, we've had to boost power just to receive this."

"Then let's get closer. Apparently we're about to make First Contact ... or at least, reintroduce a species to the rest of the quadrant. I trust we'll make a better guide than the Borg did." She motioned for the audio to be restored. "Cranel, we're going to move closer to your location so we can reach your government. We'll advise you as soon as we're within range."

The brief conversation reminded Janeway of the original First Contact between Earth and Vulcan after Zefram Cochrane's foray into space. As Voyager moved closer, continued scans confirmed the lack of any weapons capable of reaching into space, although they also showed a technology far superior to what Seven's Borg memories had indicated. It bothered Janeway that these were survivors of the Borg assimilation, something rare from a species that was nothing if not thorough. Still, there was no denying that within hours they would be taking a shuttle down to the planet surface, landing at coordinates just outside what sensors showed to be the largest city on the third continent.

"We need to be careful and aware here," she said, sitting at the head of the large table in the conference room. We can't accidentally be introducing them to technology far beyond their levels. Mr. Paris?"

"Their technology appears to be similar in a lot of ways, to the late 1980's on Earth. They use analog cables for communication as well as radio and television signals. No transporter technology and Calen's ship is unlikely to get much further than their own moon before it has to turn around and go home. They use fossil fuels to power their power generating systems as well as their transportation systems."

"So if we land, it'll have to be in a shuttle," Chakotay instructed. "Transporters only in an absolute emergency."

"Their data systems are inefficient," Seven added in a cool disapproving tone. "Extremely primitive computer systems with data stored on incomprehensibly large magnetic tape spools. It will take months to upload their data."

Janeway smiled at the disdain in her partner's voice. "We're not going to be here for months," she noted mildly, "but the opportunity to restock the supplies would be a welcome thing indeed. Anything more on the mineral scans?"

"Ore is plentiful, especially on what appears to be the main continent," Tuvok said. "Rich in beryllium as well as an indication that there might be dilithium deposits within the mountain range. The variety of minerals are too concentrated within the rock to allow for scanning."

"Considerations for the rest of the away team?" Janeway arched her eyebrow at Tuvok, making it clear who was going to be leading it.

"Lt. Ro, Ensign Carey--"

"Carey?" B'Elanna Torres growled, snapping her head around to look at him. The feisty Klingon/Human hybrid had not contributed much to the briefing prior to this, and Janeway had actually thought she wasn't paying much attention at all, intending to call her on it afterward. Apparently, the captain had been mistaken. "I'm the chief engineer. Don't you think I should be the one who goes down and sees what they have to offer?"

"I believe it unwise to send the best engineer Voyager has until we're absolutely certain the risk is justified. Ensign Carey is more than capable of scanning with a tricorder and assessing the situation," Tuvok pointed out.

"What about the Doctor and Sek?" Janeway questioned. "Do you think the Ginsians can detect holograms?"

"Uncertain," Tuvok noted. "Again they appear to have little to no ability to scan at a molecular level. As long as our medical officers maintain their mass integrity, the Ginsians should have no reason to suspect they are anything other than Human."

"Then everything is settled," Janeway said with a certain amount of satisfaction. "Premier Garrock requested that we delay our arrival until the heads of the other continents and countries arrived. According to the conversion table between their time system and ours, we should arrive two hours after everyone else, which the Premier indicated is very important. Apparently their flying crafts are notoriously late in arriving at their locations and their landing ports are stressed by the sudden demand resulting from our arrival."

"Just like Old Earth, eh, Captain?" Lt. Paris said wistfully, late 20th and early 21st century Earth one of his favorite hobbies.

"So it appears, Mr. Paris." The captain left unspoken that everything isn't always what it seemed. She kept that in mind as she made her own preparations over the next few hours before making her way to the hangar deck.

She was surprised to see Seven standing near the Delta Flyer, dressed in her away mission outfit. The padded vest over black, long-sleeved sweater with combat boots and dark trousers gave her an intimidating appearance, and no matter how many times Janeway saw her wife in that outfit, it never failed to spark a tingling deep inside. There was just something about the way Seven looked that made the captain feel like one of the damsels in her 'bodice rippers', about to be saved by her knight in shining armor. It took a few seconds for Janeway to realize that something wasn't right with the picture.

"What are you both doing here?" she demanded, noticing B'Elanna coming from around the front of the hull.

"Ensign Carey took ill," Seven explained, "And my knowledge regarding the Collective might prove useful." The Borg decided not to add that B'Elanna had made it clear to Ensign Carey just who was and was not going on this away mission. Seven was more straight forward, going to Chakotay immediately following the meeting and explaining in clear and precise terms that she should be part of the away team. Fortunately for him, he agreed.

Janeway gave her a dubious look, making it obvious that she knew exactly why the Borg was going. After the incident with the space station, where Kathryn and Lt. Ro were arrested after being caught up in a bar in a local tavern, Seven had insisted on escorting her wife on every away mission. A gentle chime reminded Janeway of the time and she sighed, knowing she didn't have the time or energy to put into arguing with Seven about going, something that the Borg undoubtedly counted on by delaying her intent to go along until the last minute.

Janeway wondered when exactly she had lost control in the marriage, and if it might be indicative of her losing some of her command edge ... a concept that was decidedly anathema to her, particularly when going into a First Contact situation.

Despite the captain's initial concerns, however, everything went well with the negotiations. A conference was held in one of the biggest buildings in the city, a series of long tables filling the hall and lined with representatives from almost every country on the planet. Since the meeting was being held in his country, Premier Garrock officiated, while the Voyager crewmembers sat on either side of him, Janeway and Ro on the left, Torres and Seven on the right, all of them with their backs to the wall which displayed colorful banners, looking out over the rest of the conference.

It was not by oversight that the captain had managed to be separated from her spouse this way. When they had first entered the hall, Kathryn's nose had caught the faint scent of a burning smokestick, and if the opportunity presented itself, she didn't want her overprotective wife to interfere with her being able to enjoy one or two. As it turned out, it wasn't as if Janeway even had to ask for one. The gleam in her eye when the Premier took the thin cylinder out of his pocket was more than enough to have one quickly handed to her by a subordinate, while the Premier himself held the small silver lighter, the golden flame igniting the thin, brown stick.

The away team had noted that Garrock and the rest of the Ginsians were very Human in appearance, the only major differences being in average height and facial hair. Even the stocky B'Elanna appeared tall compared to most of the Ginsians they had seen. The hair, for the most part, displayed dark brown curls covered head and chin of the males while the females trimmed their facial hair into decorative patterns and styles, some even braiding them in tiny rows across their jaw. The universal translator helped Janeway understand far more about the varied minor cultures which made up the class-M planet than any data files would and the captain noted that the Ginsian translators practiced the art of tact and diplomacy very well. When the leader of Chobos, the smallest country, cut another leader off with a question, the ambassador closest to her made an off color remark regarding the Chobos' parentage that her Starfleet comm badge picked up, their translator relayed it as the leader asking for more specifics. Premier Garrock took control of the meeting, and in the end, the other representatives agreed that since Voyager absolutely couldn't visit every country, they would conduct all their business through representatives, who stayed at special embassies set up in the capital city of Caros.

"I am certain that we can come to an acceptable trade agreement with you, Captain Janeway," the premier said, his sentiment echoed in the faces of the other representatives. "If you would be so kind as to provide us with a list of your requirements and a list of what possible items you have to offer, I'm sure our governments can fulfill all your needs."

"That would be our hope as well," she said diplomatically, maintaining eye contact and smiling comfortably. It was a skill expected of every Starfleet captain, the ability to appear sincere and open during the most stressful times. "We are quite interested in the minerals and ore deposits within your mountains. They may prove to be very useful to Voyager. In exchange, my chief engineer indicates that your propulsion system would benefit from some design changes that I'm sure would be of considerable value to you."

"Agreed. Our engineers have worked for years to get better economy from our fuels, but I'm afraid there has been little improvement in that area for the last decade or so," he said. "You understand of course, that your arrival is the biggest thing to have happened on our planet since the great meteror showers." He smiled proudly. "You'll find that our country is rich with culture and commerce. We wish you could stay longer but even a year would not be enough for us to get our fill of you, I'm afraid."

"As much as we would love to stay, I'm afraid that's just not possible." This greeting was a wonderful change from most encounters that Voyager experienced, and Janeway was determined to take full advantage of it. The chance for shore leave of this quality was also something that would be most appreciated by a crew trapped for endless months recovering from one battle or another. "We can only remain in orbit for a few weeks, but I would appreciate being able to provide my crew with shore leave, if that's acceptable?"

"This city had some of the finest hotels in all of Caron," he boasted. "I will arrange for them to send a list of rooms available to the central command, and instruct them to include maps and tour guides for any of your crewmembers who ask for it. I will warn you, however, that you are the first aliens we've ever met, and I'm sure everyone will be wanting to ask your people questions. There are several groups that would pay thousands, perhaps millions of colira if some of your crewmembers would provide interviews for the broadcast system. Garrock dipped his head slightly. "We are most curious about you," he admitted.

"Understood. I'm sure my people are just as curious about you." Janeway filed away the information about being the 'first' aliens, intending to talk to Seven later and fill in the missing pieces. "At the moment, however, I'm afraid we must return to our shuttle to relay information to our ship."

"I shall arrange for your escort to the landing field, Captain Janeway," he said. "In the meantime, would you care to join us for a small press conference? I'm afraid the whole world is waiting for more information about our wonderful visitors from space."

The muscle in Janeway's jaw twitched. She hated this part, but forced a smile on her face and grabbed Lt. Ro's elbow, forestalling the Bajoran's attempt to move near the exit as B'Elanna and Seven had. "Lt. Ro and I would be honored," she said smoothly, tightening her grip on her command candidate. "Lt. Torres, I assume you and Seven are on your way to meet with the Caros engineers about the metals and minerals which are available?"

"Aye Captain," B'Elanna said, vaguely startled but attempting to recover quickly. Obviously, she was wondering how the captain knew she was trying to sneak Seven out so that the pair of them could go looking for the local taverns.

"Good," Janeway said ... and quirked an eyebrow at the pair. Maintaining her grip on Ro's elbow, the captain smiled at Garrock. "We would be honored to accompany you, Premier."

Lt. Ro Laren privately wondered why her name had come up on the away team rotation. Since being transferred from security to bridge duty, Ro was not expected to fill her earlier role as Tuvok's second in command and escort to the captain. Yet when the order came down to her padd, the instructions were clear, assigning her as the security detachment to protect the captain. Ro mentally shrugged off the thought that she was being sent back to security, astute enough to know that Captain Janeway had every intention of making the Bajoran command material. She could only conclude that the captain was trying to expose her to the diplomatic side of command.

Then again, Ro noted sourly, as the Premier offered Janeway another smokestick which the captain happily accepted, perhaps Tuvok's motives for assigning her to the away team were just what they appeared; an attempt at keeping the captain out of trouble. To the Bajoran's dismay, Premier Garrock offered her a smokestick as well, an offer which could not be refused by Ro, if the look in Janeway's eyes was anything to go by. The harsh smoke filled Laren's mouth, and she was hardpressed not to cough convulsively as she nodded her thanks to the dignitary.

"There's a bit of a mint flavor to this particular variety," Janeway noted conversationally as she moved closer to her officer. Ro looked at her askance. The Bajoran did not taste mint and in fact, was certain several of her taste buds would never recover from the foul shock.

"I fail to see how diplomacy is achieved by adding toxins to our bodies," Ro muttered in a low voice, holding the smokestick away from her as blue tendrils of smoke wafted from the burning end.

"It is part of their culture and sharing a few smokesticks won't hurt." The gleam in Janeway's eyes made Ro uneasy. It was the same look the captain had just before they went into the tavern which subsequently landed them both in jail. "It makes everyone more comfortable to know we share the same habits."

"If you say so, Captain," Laren said as, flanked by dignitaries, they made their way down the long hall to the room where all the communication equipment had been set up for their 'press conference.'

"Trust me, Lieutenant," Janeway said as she took another puff of her smokestick. "Have I ever steered you wrong before?" She glanced at the Bajoran and grinned faintly. "Don't answer that," she added quickly.

"Aye Captain," Ro said, glumly, wondering how long it would take for her leader's penchant for getting into trouble to appear.

Seven was less than two paces away from Kathryn when the Borg stopped and frowned. In a public, rather than private setting, Seven could only communicate her immense displeasure at the telltale scent emanating from Janeway by a glare that could singe steel. Recognizing the look, Kathryn wondered if there was anything in the replication programs that would allow her to carry a portable mouth freshener to eliminate the taste of the smokesticks. Certainly the captain's ingenuity and cunning, as provided her by years in Starfleet, could accomplish something as simple as outwitting her annoyed spouse and allow Janeway to continue to enjoy this little vice.

"Condition gray," Janeway said, not daring to look at her wife as they entered the vehicle shaped like a large tube, that had been waiting to take them back to the Delta Flyer. That earned another frown from Seven, who immediately recognized it as maintaining silence until the team had returned to the confines of their own vessel. Certainly the Borg did not agree that there was a need for such a security measure, and the look in Ro's eyes mirrored Seven's assessment.

Per Janeway's instruction, however, nothing was said on the ride to the location where the Delta Flyer was parked, but the daggers being thrown by ice blue eyes let the captain know there was going to be trouble when forced silence was no longer an option. Janeway could only hope Seven would wait until they were back in their quarters before blowing up, and wondered how she was going to get rid of the lone smokestick concealed in her tunic pocket. However, as they approached the landing area, everyone's attention was drawn to the throngs of people, held back by barricades and an impressive military force carrying simple projectile rifles who had surrounded their vessel.

"Will you look at that?" Janeway marveled, her mind spinning in its attempt to determine how many Ginsians were there.

Laren frowned as she looked out the window. "We could arrange for an emergency beam out to the Delta Flyer," she suggested.

"There's no need for that, Lieutenant." The captain allowed a small smile to come to her lips. Nothing like a good distraction to keep a certain astrometrics officer from worrying about trivial things such as smokesticks. "They're just excited to meet us."

The Caron security forces finally cleared a path and the cylindrical transport moved forward, stopping just outside the protective field surrounding the Delta Flyer. Having seen their arrival through the viewports, Tom Paris lowered the shields and cracked the hatch to welcome them back.

"Report," Kathryn said as she entered the Flyer and settled at the small but comfortable table in the aft section. Tom and Seven followed, Ro and B'Elanna joining them a moment later, after supposedly making sure the outer hatch was secure, but more likely stealing a quick kiss in the cockpit.

"Well, we certainly are popular," Paris said. "I've been monitoring the communications channels, of which there are well over a hundred in six different languages. We're on every one of them." He threw a smile over his shoulder. "We are the talk of the town."

"I'm sure the first glimpse of Vulcans caused just as much of an uproar when they originally arrived on Earth," the captain said. "Did you run sensor scans while we were gone?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said. "These mountains are full of ore; beryllium, along with ninety percent pure dilithium, but the other minerals and rock make it too dense for the sensors to penetrate."

"Sounds like we'll have to send a team in to check it out."

"The dilithium is not far from the beryllium deposits. The portable mining bore should be able to break through that rock with no problem."

"Is there any sign that they have advanced into mining of that nature," Seven asked curiously.

"There are caves and caverns scattered about, as well as underground pumping stations for the fossil fuels, but most of their structures seem to be made out of wood and stone with very little metal. Their electrical systems are all wired to massive generators built into dams placed along their river systems. Very efficient for a race that only seems to use natural materials for their technology."

"So it would seem," Janeway agreed. "B'Elanna, make sure when you go with the engineers that you're careful not to reveal too much. We don't want to give their advancement that much of a boost. Seven?"

The Borg nodded. "The collective's recollection of species 724 does not suggest this level of technological achievement."

"Let's hear it for Ginsian ingenuity." It still didn't tell her the reason why there was no mention of the Borg's visit in the condensed historical archives she had looked at. But perhaps there had been no one around to write about the assimilation, too concerned with survival to put down in permanent form what was going on around them. They also seemed conspicuously devoid of a oral tradition of passing on history.

"Captain, what of the celebration?" Ro asked, knowing the others were unaware of the offer. Janeway favored her with a force six look. However, where far lesser officers would have been on the floor, the Bajoran remained sitting up, seemingly immune to the damage the glare threatened.

"So glad you mentioned that, Lt. Ro," Janeway said with acid sweetness. "It seems that our arrival coincides with the nation's annual Lowurt festival. It celebrates families and children, and they have, of course, invited Voyager's crew to be special guests at the week long celebration." She watched Tom's eyes light up and favored him with only a slightly lower intensity glare than she had given Lt. Ro. "I have agreed to meet with the Premier tomorrow to get more information about the celebration before I make a decision. Apparently he has a record of last year's celebration that he feels would be an accurate representation of what to expect."

Janeway groaned and squeezed Seven tighter, resisting the young woman's attempt to roll out of bed. "Don't go yet. You told B'Elanna you would meet her at 1100 hours. We still have an hour or so nor, are you finished with me, yet."

Seven nuzzled the rich, auburn hair, smiling faintly. "And what did my insatiable wife have in mind?" she asked playfully.

The couple, not required for active duty while the ship was in orbit, but with an evening of diplomatic functions ahead of them, were taking the rare opportunity to lounge in bed long past what would normally be their wake up call. They had indulged in several hours of cuddling, complete with a multitude of teasing ... and arousing ... exchanges and Seven's attempt to leave was outrageous to the captain.

Kathryn insinuated her knee insistently between Seven's statuesque thighs. "What would you like, darling?" She kissed her way up Seven's jaw. "Hmm? Do you want me to use my lips and tongue?" Janeway could not resist smiling at the responding moan. "Or would you prefer me to just feel my way around?" She demonstrated her point by letting her finger idly circle Seven's hard nipple.

"You are teasing me," the highly aroused Borg said, turning her head to capture her wife's mouth with a searing kiss and rolling them over in the process. "It is not wise to tease a Borg," she warned, with a playful nip to Kathryn's throat.

"No, not ... ah, not especially ... unwise either." The normally articulate captain found it hard to form words, especially with Seven bend her head to glide her tongue delightfully over Janeway's small breasts.

"You should be punished for such insolence," Seven said between mouthfuls of soft flesh.

"And just what ... mmm, oh yes, do that ... what punishment do you ... ah, do you think is appropriate?" Kathryn had no doubt that whatever it was, she would enjoy it immensely. "A tongue lashing perhaps?"

Seven pressed her thigh harder between Janeway's legs, feeling telltale moisture at the juncture. "For an offense such as this?" She lifted her head, letting her long white blonde hair brush lightly over Kathryn's chest and undulated her hips, pleased with the answering motion from the woman beneath her. "You are quite moist," she noted. "I believe you require something ... more involved than a mere reprimand."

Janeway swallowed and nodded, intrigued. "Yes."

"You are aroused."

"Very," Janeway agreed. She groaned when Seven's thigh pressed harder, the Borg's lips scant millimeters away from her ear.

"Do you need to be taken, Kathryn?" Seven whispered, her voice low and husky with desire.

There was no hesitation. "Please."

"I thought so," Seven muttered before reaching over and sliding open the drawer, retrieving the wooden rectangular box. She set it on the nightstand and kissed Kathryn's ear, letting her tongue slip out to trace the delicate shell. "Is this what you want?" she teased, flipping open the lid to reveal their Wonder Wand 9000.

"Yes," Janeway said breathlessly, her hips moving in an attempt to express her need. "Please Annika, now."

Seven kissed her hotly while pressing the remote control into the captain's hand. "You are too impatient."

Shifting slightly, she brought the accessory to her groin, closing her eyes briefly as sensors slid out from the end and attached to her engorged protrusion while other appendages wrapped around her hips, securing the Wonder Wand firmly to her body. She noted that Janeway had already changed the parameters, reducing the phallus from it's maximum thirty inches down to seven, adjusting the girth and color as well.

"Perhaps you should slow down," she suggested, inserting her hand between them to slide questing fingers through Kathryn's wet crease. "You enjoy it far more when I procede at a controlled pace."

"But maybe you've been teasing me for hours and I can't wait any longer," Janeway countered, her chest heaving as Seven continued to move her fingertips back and forth. "Besides, you're the one suddenly in a hurry to leave."

"Yes, but you enjoy that," Seven pointed out, moving her explorations lower. "Yes, you are definitely enjoying it." She pulled Kathryn's breast into her mouth at the same time she lovingly entered her with two fingers, the digits sliding in easily.

"V-very much so," Janeway panted, her hands wrapped tight around Seven's biceps. "Annika ... darling..." She gasped as those wonderful fingers slowly withdrew. "Please ... Annika, take me. Now ... before I do something ... damaging to you."

Seven ached her eyebrow, the implant rising, but she did not laugh. "Indeed?"

She nudged with her knee, amused when she saw how quickly Kathryn's legs parted. Apparently her wife was more aroused than she had anticipated. "If that is what you need," she said, kissing Janeway's chin while using her free hand to guide the device into position. "Then by all means..." With skill that only came from practice and careful study, Seven moved the head of the wand up and down, coating it with the abundant moisture and rubbing the engorged nub. Kathryn's hips were in constant motion, trying desperately to get what she wanted where she needed it. Seven raised up slightly, thwarting her anxious wife's efforts. "You shall have it." With that, she pressed forward, the head finding the slightest of resistance before velvet walls drew it in.

"Oh!" Seven gasped at the sensation, realizing Kathryn had adjusted more than just the dimensions of the accessory. The Borg usually kept the sensitivity low, preferring to concentrate on pleasing Janeway rather than on her own sensations. However, Kathryn had apparently changed that, allowing Seven to feel each minuscule pulse around the wand, each tiny, loving squeeze by Janeway's inner muscles. "Oh Kathryn, you ... you must turn the setting down." Already Seven's hips were moving, drawing the wand in and out, though due to the increased sensitivity, the Borg would have sworn it was an extension of her own body and not an accessory built by the Ferengi.

"Why would I ... ah, want to do that?" Kathryn asked, her body undulating forcibly against Seven's. "Maybe I like ... you a little ... out of control."

"But, I cannot concentrate at this level," the Borg responded weakly, bringing her mouth down hard against Janeway's, conveying her love with a passion, claiming the smaller woman with her lips and kissing her until the urges became too strong to ignore. "Kathryn."

"Yes my darling, Annika," Janeway said, the remote tossed aside as she filled her hands with the soft mounds of Seven's breasts. "You are so beautiful."

Seven's analytical mind could not come up with a reply, limited as it was to non-sensible grunts with each thrust. She threw her head back, digging the fingers of her left hand into the sheets and mattress below. "Kathryn ... my Kathryn" Her eyes closed of their own accord, her mouth falling open. Her highly intelligent mind, enhanced by the endless wealth of knowledge of the Collective, refused to accept reality any longer. There was no accessory between them, no device manipulated by remote control. There was only Annika and Kathryn, loving each other the only way they could, totally and without reserve. Seven's thrusts became short and fast, matched by her soft grunts of pleasure. "It feels so good inside you," she gasped, gripping Janeway's shoulder with her right hand.

"That's it, Annika. That's it ... just ... a little more"

"I love you Kathryn ... oh ... oh, Kathryn."

"Faster ... oh, god ... yes ... yes ... a little more ... THERE!"

Try as she might, Seven could not hold out. Urged on by Janeway's demanding words spoken in a timbre that sent shivers down the Borg's spine and caused all sorts of other feelings between her legs, the incredible feeling of her love's inner walls clamping down and holding her inside, she cried out as an intense orgasm ripped through her. She dimly heard Kathryn's answering cry and felt velvet covered muscle grip her tightly.

It was several moments before Seven moved, spurred on by her wife shifting beneath her. "I love you," she murmured, covering wine shaded lips with her own, and reluctantly withdrawing from Kathryn's body.

Janeway reached up and rested her hand on Seven's cheek. "Oh my darling, I love you too." Without words, they shifted until the Borg had retrieved the remote from the floor beside the bed and removed the device, tossing it briefly aside. Then, she stretched out on her back, Kathryn snuggling up neatly against her chest. "You do the most wonderful things to me, Seven of Mine."

Seven smiled at the newest endearment from her spouse and brushed her lips over Janeway's brow, nuzzling the auburn hair. "As you do to me, Captain of My Heart."

That earned the Borg a long loving kiss which she happily accepted.

"I don't want to move," Janeway admitted, intertwining their fingers.

"I will cancel my game with B'Elanna," Seven offered, perfectly content to spend the time cuddling with her spouse.

"No, darling," Kathryn said, planting a gentle kiss on the Borg's neck. "You promised you would be there, and I know the two of you haven't had much time together."

"It is hard," Seven admitted. "We must find time when you and Laren are on duty or like tonight, take time away from you."

"Sweetheart, it's not taking time away from me any more than your Starfleet classes are." Janeway's eyes were a soft blue, full of love and adoration. "You have fun with B'Elanna and don't worry about me. I have some reports and paperwork I need to catch up on before we go down to the surface." She saw no need to mention that there was an exquisitely carved lighter and a smokestick hidden in the top drawer of her desk.

Seven thought about it and nodded, rolling away from Janeway and scooping up the discarded wonder wand before she stood. "I also must stop by and see Naomi this morning. She was having problems last night deciding what to wear." The Borg tilted her head. "B'Elanna and I will meet Sek in the Wildman quarters at 1200 hours."

"How long do you think it will take?"

"No more than five minutes for Naomi and I to decide on her outfit, but Sek and B'Elanna will be there."

"Tack on another hour while they argue over what the best outfit is, I assume?"

Seven gave her wife a look. "You were not there the morning of the wedding." The Ordeal Of The Hair still sent shudders down her spine. "They have different tastes. Anticipate it taking three additional hours."

Janeway propped herself up on one elbow, enjoying the view of a naked Borg standing in the ensuite doorway, even with the wonder wand dangling idly in her hand. "If it were my kid, I'd just toss a set of dress whites on her and that would be the end of that."

Startled, Seven paused for a second before glaring at her wife. "You would not dare."

Janeway swallowed, clearly understanding her error. "I suppose a nice dress would be acceptable as well," she corrected herself meekly.

Seven sighed. "You would," she decided before entering the ensuite.

Obviously their children would need closets of their own. The captain quietly pondered her chances of successfully annexing the VIP quarters. After all, they had already taken the bedroom for use as a walk-in closet. Did a few more square meters really matter?

Then, as the thrum of water wafted out to Janeway's hearing. it occurred to her that she was wasting time lying in bed while her partner was under the shower and undoubtedly in desperate need of having her back washed. She quickly rolled out from between the tangled sheets and trotted into the ensuite, pleased to discover that her partner had barely begun.

"Oh no," Seven protested, as the captain slipped in behind her. "Kathryn, I must meet B'Elanna."

"We still have time," Janeway murmured insistently, as she took the sponge from the young woman. "Besides, wouldn't you like your back washed?"

Seven eyed her narrowly. "You will limit yourself to my back?"

"Of course," Janeway promised, somewhat insincerely. But since she suspected her partner's objections were not entirely sincere either, she doubted Seven really minded. In fact, since Seven preferred sonic showers to hydro, there was also a suspiscion that it was not exactly Janeway initiating this encouter and it was verified when Seven put her hands against the wall and braced herself, bending her head, apparently surrendering to whatever Janeway wished to do. When Janeway deliberately limited herself to scrubbing the Borg's back, as requested, Seven looked over her shoulder with surprise.

"Kathryn?"

"I'm being good," Janeway said mildly as she rubbed the sponge in lavish circles over the smooth line of her partner's spine, the suds slipping provocatively over the lean, golden form.

"Yes," Seven said, with a touch of disgruntlement in her tone, "you are."

The starship captain offered her an elegant leer. "Perhaps you need help with your front as well?" she suggested in her most innocent tone.

Seven considered it for a moment. "Perhaps," she allowed with apparent reluctance.

She really was getting quite good at this game, Janeway thought as she slipped her arms around her partner's waist, soaping Seven's stomach and then lower, to the triangle which lathered up quite nicely. Seven made a soft sound in her throat as Janeway pressed her body against the young woman's back and buttocks, dropping the sponge to free her hands which she used to cup the Borg's full breasts, her thumbs stroking the firm tips lightly.

"How is it that you can overcome my determination so easily?" Seven whispered.

Janeway nuzzled the back of her neck. "Hmm, maybe I'm not the one who's insatiable," she suggested, rather than point out that the Borg's 'determination' wasn't all it could be. She released one breast and let her right hand trail down her partner's abdomen to the juncture of her legs which was far moister than mere warm water and soap could account for.

Seven whimpered slightly as Janeway's fingers found her nodule and fondled it sweetly, easily sliding in the viscous fluid.

"Mmm, do you like that, darling?" Janeway asked, feeling emphatic tremors echo through her with every soft moan of her partner. Few things aroused her as much as witnessing her partner being pleasured and she slid her nipples provocatively over Seven's back, enhancing the young woman's desire.

"Very much," Seven managed.

"Do you remember the first time we ever made love in the shower," Janeway whispered huskily.

"Yes," Seven said. She paused, gasping. "I spent several minutes explaining how improbable it was that it could be done successfully."

"And I showed you in much less time that it could," Janeway replied smugly. Then, the captain was barely able to grasp Seven around the waist as the young woman's knees buckled, trying to keep her steady as the Borg's climax took them both unawares. Janeway was incapable of bearing her partner's greater mass entirely, of course, but she was able to keep Seven from falling in the time it took for her to recover her bearings. All through the quivers and weakness, the captain kept her fingers constant in their pleasuring, guiding her partner through her pinnacle with tender skill.

After a moment, Seven straightened and turned around, gathering the captain up in her arms.

"I believe I shall be a little late for my match," she said, kissing Janeway so hard, the good captain saw stars as she was pressed lovingly against the nearest bulkhead as the water cascaded over them. "B'Elanna will simply have to understand."

"I don't suppose you wish to explain how this happened?" the Doctor asked as he ran the dermal regenerator over Seven's cheek.

"Lt. Torres perspires excessively," the Borg said calmly. "Especially when she is losing at Velocity. I ... slipped." She did not add that perhaps she was a little more fatigued than she should have been, not having had the proper time to recover from her previous 'workout' with her partner. However, her nanoprobes tended to encourage a fast recovery once she was actually at rest, so she did not think it relevant at the moment.

"Ah, that would explain how you managed to introduce your face to the beam," he said sarcastically. "Next time tell her to wear a headband."

"Next time, we shall go body surfing," Seven countered firmly.

"I don't know if she would appreciate your trying to drown her again," he said, remembering the tirade the Klingon went on after the last time Seven tried to teach her to body surf. The Klingon/Human hybrid boasted a denser body mass than most women, causing her to sink rather than float at the best of times. In the enthusiastic wave action that Seven had come to enjoy, Torres had as much hope of controlling herself on a board as she did of sprouting wings and flying out of trouble.

"Nonetheless it will be my turn to choose the holodeck program, and we will go body surfing," Seven insisted, hopping off the biobed and standing with her hands linked behind her back. "I spoke with Naomi Wildman prior to arriving at the holodeck. Why did you tell Neelix not to let her have anything to eat before participating in the recreational pursuits available at the celebration tonight?"

"Because children, fast food and rides that shake you all over the place are never a good combination," he said. "Perhaps I should add that to the general log and alert some of our more adventurous crewmembers as to the consequences of overindulging."

"I do not understand," she said, her head tilted slightly. "You issue these warnings before every shore leave and yet no one adheres to them. What is the purpose of such futile efforts?"

The Doctor sighed, a habit created out of frustration rather than due to any need to breathe. "Because it makes me feel better to know that at least I warned our resident daredevils and thrill seekers." He moved closer and lowered his voice though they were the only two in sickbay. Sek, his holographic medical assistant and fledgling ship's counselor, was making rounds to all the crewmembers to administer antitoxins and anti-venoms to protect them from anything the planet might have to offer in terms of viruses and bacteria. "This way I'm perfectly justified in giving them a lecture when they come whining into the sickbay demanding that I fix whatever damage they've willingly caused themselves in their pursuit to prove they're invincible. Captain Janeway, in particular, loves to show just how little she believes in following Doctor's recommendations."

"Captain Janeway is very stubborn," Seven agreed, a fond expression in her eyes. "But I will keep her from overindulging." The barest corner of her lip turned up. "She does not like it, however, when I remind her to maintain her health."

"I'm sure," he said. "But better you than me. In fact, perhaps I should be sending you the reminders of her appointment times instead of her." He put the dermal regenerator down and made a few notes into the padd. "So are you and Naomi going down tonight?"

"Yes," Seven said with Borg subdued excitement, her eyes sparkling brightly. "Tonight is the high moon, when the Carons celebrate the Child. Naomi is the only child on Voyager old enough to partake in the festivities, and they wish to have her say hello to everyone via antique microphones, wires and speakers. Captain Janeway will be there as well." Her eyes saddened a bit. "It is unfortunate that Ensign Wildman could not."

"Yes it is," he agreed. "But she will be able to attend with Naomi in three days."

"But Naomi won't be part of the celebration in three days," Seven pointed out. "Just tonight. It bothers her that her mother cannot be in attendance during her moment of attention."

"Exobiology is Samantha's specialty, Seven," the Doctor reminded her. "The roots and fauna they've discovered could be of great use to Voyager, especially in terms of medical uses. I understand some of the fauna produce a higher yield of oxygen, something which could be of great use in cargo bay two. The vegetation and plants in the park benefit the whole crew, including Naomi, not just the newborns. Ensign Wildman is the best we have at identifying the possible uses for the plant life, which is why it was necessary for her to be there instead of at the celebration." The Doctor gentled his tone, knowing Seven's thinking on the matter was based on what the six year old felt, which was the disappointment at not having her mother on what seemed to be such a special night. "No doubt Ensign Wildman is also upset by the situation, but she knows that you and the captain will take care of everything," he added, with a more compassionate expression.

"I understand," Seven said, filing the information away to explain to Naomi, who had been practically crying earlier in the morning when her mother broke the news to her.

With the Ordeal of the Dress finally completed, though not without a few choice expressions tossed between B'Elanna and Sek, Seven returned to her quarters and settled down at her workstation, a stack of padds piled neatly beside her. That was how Captain Janeway found her when she entered their quarters later that afternoon.

"Kathryn."

"Hello, love," Janeway returned, crossing over to receive her hug and kiss. "Where's Jake and what are you working on?"

Seven tilted the large padd so her wife could see the screen. "Jake is with Ensign Liam. I am attempting to create safety equipment which will protect the infant crewmembers until their motor skills have developed sufficiently. Little Harry came into sickbay while I was there and I discovered that he has been treated twice for falling and hitting his head because his balance and muscles are insufficient to keep him in an upright position."

"But babies learn from experience, which includes falling from time to time," Janeway said gently, taking Seven's hand and guiding the tall blonde from the workstation to the couch.

"I do not understand," Seven said honestly as she followed willingly. "You would not let a member of the crew perform a function they were not capable of."

"Babies learning to walk is not the same as putting a scientist in charge of a rescue mission," Janeway pointed out. "A baby's learning process is different. They don't understand language nor do they have the cognitive functions that adults do. They learn by trial and error, and that is going to include a few bumps and bruises along the way." She lifted Seven's arm and snuggled under it against the Borg's chest. "Darling, no matter what you do, you cannot protect children all the time. Our children are going to fall more than once before they learn to walk and if they're anything like their mothers, they will be even more adventurous than most, which means more injuries."

"Our children will not take the chances that their mother does," Seven promised, looking pointedly at Janeway.

"Children have to have some adventure," Kathryn pointed out, ignoring the implication in her wife's words. "But perhaps they won't burn down the shed."

"What?" Seven's eyes were wide with alarm. "Explain," she said firmly.

Janeway cringed, not really wanting to reveal that particular incident. "When I was ten, I accidentally started a fire which burned down a small shed." She decided not to add that it was her failure to properly extinguish a cigarillo she had managed to acquire from a neighbor boy, which was the true cause of the fire.

"It is no wonder you are not allowed in your mother's kitchen," Seven said. "I do not believe I want you to reveal this information to our children. I do not want them picking up your bad habits."

"My bad habits? Darling, I don't go around burning down sheds. It was just the once."

"But you do insist on smoking those foul sticks. You had one today," she accused. "Yet you were not on the surface. I can only conclude you have smuggled some onto the ship and are hiding them." She paused, her eyes icy. "I have already destroyed the ones I found hidden in the bedroom," she revealed. "Do not bring any more into our quarters."

Janeway was silent for a moment. "How did you know?" she asked, wondering if the mouth fresheners had failed somehow.

"Unlike the planet's surface, where the flow of air currents blow the smell away from your uniform, you were obviously smoking within an enclosed room. It is in your clothes, in your hair and clinging to your skin," Seven explained. "You will now shower and change while I prepare dinner."

She stood up and headed for the kitchenette, leaving her partner to fume in silence which the Borg pointedly ignored. Obviously, this was one issue that Seven was absolutely not going to bend or compromise on with her partner. Janeway knew that the young woman had researched the health risks of the long-term smoking of similar leaves in Earth's past and while the element which had caused most of the long-term effects ... an addictive drug known as nicotine ... wasn't present in these particular smokesticks, Seven was still convinced that such a habit would not do her partner the slightest bit of good. Not to mention the Borg's own personal revulsion to the byproducts of stale smoke. With a frustrated sigh, the captain disappeared into the ensuite.

When she came out, dressed in a fresh uniform, Seven had finished assembling the items she needed for the meal and had combined them in careful proportions. While Seven was quite accomplished when it came to recreating Gretchen Janeway's recipes, a suggestion by Kathryn had resulted in the Borg trying to create her own recipes, blending ingredients and cooking methods while using the captain as her taster. It was a job the auburn haired woman never minded doing, except when Seven was going through her spicy and hot phase. This late lunch was one of those pleasurable efforts, a chicken and steak stirfry combination with an appropriately light wine. Every friendly system they passed through, as few as there were recently, had provided Seven with an opportunity to replenish their wine collection.

"It smells wonderful," Janeway said, after a somewhat terse silence, trying to put their minor disagreement aside as she began to set the dining table. "But won't we be too full to enjoy the food offered at the festival tonight?"

"I have found Ginse food to be extremely bland and pasty. You will not like it," Seven said with authority, bringing over the meal to set it on the table before taking her seat and beginning her meal.

Janeway's fork stopped halfway to her mouth. "When did you try Ginse cuisine?" she asked in astonishment, not to mention being a bit put out by Seven's rather presumptuous tone over what she would and would not like. She had the distinct impression that perhaps she was losing a battle without even knowing one had started. "I thought you and Lt. Torres were reviewing the engineering requirements."

"We were," Seven said, her dinner plate suddenly requiring her unwavering interest.

Janeway took the bite which had been interrupted and chewed her food slowly, eyeing her partner with dawning suspicion. She swallowed and quirked an eyebrow. "I'm waiting," she said in what was clearly a captain's tone of voice.

"The Carons were most agreeable in providing us nutritional supplements while we were waiting for our transport," Seven said carefully.

"Do I dare ask if you two managed to also ingest any liquids while you there?"

"We did not go to a tavern," Seven said quickly, then added in a low voice, "There were several samples of local fermentation offered by the Ginse engineers, however. They apparently carry 'coolers' in the back of their land vehicles."

"Hmm..." Janeway took several bites before she continued. "Still, Lt. Torres must be slipping. I was sure she would have found a tavern as soon as the two of you were out of my sight."

"She did," Seven admitted. "However I was able to convince B'Elanna that we should not go in."

"And just how did you do that?"

"I started by telling her that you would not be pleased." Seven's eyes took on a mischievous twinkle. "But it was Lt. Ro's displeasure that was my 'ace in the hole'. When I mentioned that Laren would not be happy with her, B'Elanna agreed not to enter the tavern."

Janeway smiled. "Well that's one way to do it." She scraped the last bit of dinner from her plate. "You really don't play fair at times, Annika."

"Indeed," Seven agreed. "Sometimes 'playing fair' does not work. Manipulation is a handy skill to have. For example, I should not have argued with you about bringing smokesticks into our home." The Borg made a distasteful face at the mention of the foul cigarillos. "I merely have to point out that there is a couch, as well as the bed, on which you may sleep. That would have worked equally as well and I would not have had to become ... upleasant to you."

Janeway gave a faint smile and sat back, dabbing her lips with her napkin. "Point taken. I won't bring any more smokesticks into our home." Privately she mourned the loss of the half dozen she had hidden in various parts of their quarters with the hopes of enjoying them when Seven was away, but fortunately there were more hidden in the desk in her ready room. "Naomi seems excited," she said, trying to change the subject.

"Naomi is very excited," Seven corrected. "This will be a new experience for her."

"Being a spokesperson for children, you mean." Janeway said. "Yes, I suppose it is. Not to mention her opportunity to play with youngsters her own age. That's an advantage I had growing up in the agricultural community. I always had friends in my peer group to play with, and if they weren't around, I always had Phoebe."

"Naomi does not have any friends her own age." Seven noted, somewhat sadly. "That is a shame."

Janeway rose and took her dirty dishes to the replicator. "I have to agree with you there, Annika. If I had known we were going to be out here so long..."

She left the thought unsaid, having beat herself up many times over the years about her decisions while in the Delta Quadrant, and she wondered, not for the first time, if their decision to delay children until they returned to the Federation was the correct one. So lost was she in her thoughts, she was startled when she felt gentle arms wrap around her, not having heard her partner come up behind her.

"If wishes were horses," Seven said gently, putting the lightest of kisses on Janeway's neck. "I love you, my Kathryn."

"And I love you too, darling," Janeway said, turning and burying her face in the crook of Seven's neck.

Seven allowed the indulgence for several moments before disengaging and stepping back. "We need to change and meet Tuvok, Naomi and Sek at the hanger bay."

"Hmm, I know," the captain said regretfully, "but holding you forever is far more preferable." Janeway moved in for another quick kiss, then another, which lengthened in duration.

"We shall hold each other tonight, after we return from the surface," Seven promised, stealing a kiss of her own before reluctantly moving away. It would be a full evening and there was no time for her to indulge in this sort of playfulness any longer ... as much as she might like to.

It was after nightfall before the festivities got underway. The large park was thronged with people, colorful lights, and rows of booths filled with games of chance and a variety of confections, beverages and foods. Identified by uniform, the Voyager crew were treated as guests of state, not allowed to pay for any of their drinks or meals. Games of chance and merchandise, however, were expected to be paid for in full, but they were allowed to negotiate on the price of course. Janeway loved negotiating, especially when it went her way.

Although padds were allowed to be used by the Voyager crew in front of the Carons, the people understanding them to be an advanced form of their own computers, phasers and tricorders were kept hidden away on the Delta Flyer. Energy weapons and scanners were not something even remotely envisioned in the Ginsians' future by the most speculative of their fiction, and thus care was given to keep them out of sight.

B'Elanna's suggestion of a design change in the city's main power supply was of such apparent worth to the government that they immediately sent Voyager enough payment for each crew member to have 100 colira, small flattened shiny discs made of  ore taken from the mountains and used as currency. When they were shipped aboard the Delta Flyer, a quick check with the tricorder confirmed dilithium existed within each disc which for once, made them quite precious to Voyager as well. With the crystals as the main source of power for their warp engines, a supply of dilithium was never ignored, and since the element was considered to be the 'impurity' in the currency, Janeway was able to negotiate successfully with the Caron government for access to the deposits, promising more design changes which B'Elanna guaranteed would help in 'removing this impurity' very inexpensively while not introducing them to any new technology.

Tom had been manning the Delta Flyer all day, making trips from Voyager to the surface and back, not at all thrilled that the transporters were to be kept a secret. Lt. Ro was scheduled to take over halfway through the beta shift, allowing Tom a chance to go to the festival, though he would have to return to Voyager to sleep before repeating the process tomorrow. Sometimes it didn't pay to be the best pilot on the ship. At the moment he was waiting in the cockpit, the Flyer parked in the landing area while his latest set of passengers disembarked. First was Tuvok, the legs of his trousers bulging slightly, no doubt hiding whatever he felt was too important to leave behind but didn't want seen. Tom remembered old movies showing men hiding pistols in special harnesses on their legs, and he supposed that Tuvok had a phaser stuffed into his boot.

Behind the Vulcan, Seven, dressed in her away mission clothing, exited the craft. Tom noted that she had added one enhancement to her outfit, a hook and loop system in the front which allowed her to close the black vest, making it fit her better rather than just flopping open in the event the six foot gazelle had to run somewhere while wearing it.

Clasping Seven's hand, Naomi looked around with wide eyes. The child was dressed in a simple peach colored top and long pants, a small gold pip worn proudly on her collar, as well as a fully functional comm badge upon her chest. It was smaller than the standard version, B'Elanna having altered it after Seven pointed out the futility in putting something so big on a small child's thin shirt. As an afterthought, B'Elanna also added an extra clasp to the badge, remembering how easily she lost things as a child and not wanting to have the comm badge fall off in the middle of a festival with hundreds of thousands of people in attendance. B'Elanna did not want to have to answer to the captain for it, but more importantly, she did not want to have to answer to Samantha Wildman.

Sek was also in attendance. With so many people waiting to meet the Voyager crew, the hologram's eyes were keener than Tom had ever remembered them. Even before becoming the ship's counselor, Sek had an intense interest in cultures and peoples, and was looking forward to learning more about the Carons. The Delaney sisters, Jennifer and Megan, and Megan's husband, Harry Kim were also on this trip, their son Harry Jr. left in the care of the ship's daycare provider who volunteered to watch the infants should the parents wish to go to the surface. Megan and Harry had little time to themselves since Harry Jr.'s birth, and they were both looking forward to a few hours of just being a couple. Janeway had offered only once to babysit for them, but Seven had offered on several occasions since. According to what Tom had heard from his best friend, Janeway always looked totally frazzled whenever the young parents arrived to pick little Harry up. The normally cool and collected captain was usually found sitting on the couch, just staring at the devastation in the room with a lost look in her eyes as if she couldn't figure out what had happened in the previous few hours. Tom had heard the rumors about Janeway and Seven wanting children, and wondered if the Borg was trying to get some practice in, as well as checking to see if the captain could survive it.

Tom watched the rest of the crew disembark and closed the hatch door with relief. Only three more runs to go. "Computer, play music, Earth, North America, late twentieth century, rock, Beatles." At least the rides back were enjoyable, he thought, as he went through the pre-launch sequence.

"No." Janeway took a deep breath, wondering why she hadn't insisted on Ensign Wildman or Neelix escorting Naomi. Priorities, she reminded herself, that was why. Neelix was visiting with an ambassador from one of the smaller countries who purported to have recipes and herbs that made even the most vile foods taste wonderful. As morale officer and once more, full-time cook, Neelix made it a point to trade for those things that didn't normally fall into diplomatic negotiations. Unbeknownst to the captain, Seven had given Neelix most of her allotment of coliras in case he was able to secure some wines for her and the captain. Unbeknownst to Seven, Janeway had given most of her coliras to Neelix to buy the softest material he could find. Searching through a seldom used database, Janeway had come across an outfit that she thought would look absolutely exquisite on her tall wife. The captain was even more pleased when it turned out that programming instructions were included. All she had to do was provide the correct measurements and material. At the moment however, Seven was eyeing the game booth again. Flashing an exasperated look at her beloved wife, Janeway nudged her past the game booth.

"But Naomi likes--" Seven began.

"No," the captain said firmly. "I can appreciate that Naomi likes many of the prizes but you are not going to spend all your coliras trying to win them for her."

"Naomi?" The proprietor of the booth they were standing in front of jumped over the short wall, intercepted by the Caron security force escorting the aliens. "I would be most honored if I could give the precious Naomi whatever gift she would like," he said, smiling endearingly at the child.

"Really?" Naomi asked, her eyes full of awe.

Janeway inhaled deeply and counted to ten as several expectant glances centered on her. This had happened from the moment they entered the festival, Naomi's name having made the news as the only child of Voyager able to attend. The child adored the fawning, smiling prettily and waving at everyone who waved at her. Sek carried in her arms two odd looking toys made of cloth and stuffed with a soft batting, the shapes resembled the four legged creatures Janeway had seen people walking about the city. They looked similar to dogs but sported a much longer neck and had teeth which were flat instead of pointed. Despite the fact they were obviously domesticated, Janeway repeatedly refused Seven's suggestion of bringing Jake down to 'play' with the other animals. Jake's 'playing' with the B'Rethna had cost her hundreds of replicator rations when Jake broke into Harry Kim's quarters and destroyed anything that wasn't secured to the deck. She didn't want to be required to give over the secret of the warp core in order to cover whatever damage her free-spirited Irish Setter might wish to create on the surface.

"We simply don't have room on Voyager for every gift they want to give you," the captain said, trying to make the child, as well as Seven and Sek ... obviously believing that Naomi should get every present ... understand. Tuvok stood quietly by her side, his face showing what Janeway swore was the Vulcan equivalent of tolerant amusement. When three pairs of disappointed eyes looked back at her, Kathryn wondered grouchily if Seven's next move would be to cry, a tactic Janeway was completely defenseless against.

"You're going to have to carry it this time," she said evenly to her partner. "Sek's hands are full."

"Ah!" the man from the booth exclaimed, smiling and reaching over the short wall in search of something. With glee he pulled out a bright blue backpack with alien lettering etched across it. He tossed it over the heads of the security force, his aim perfect as Sek only had to reach out to snag it with her hand. Janeway rolled her eyes and nodded in defeat. Instantly Tuvok took up residence at the captain's right side, protecting her as their small group moved over to the game booth to accept the proprietor's gift to Naomi. To the young child's credit, she was gracious and pleasant to everyone who presented her with a gift or wanted to touch her forearm, the equivalent to a handshake on this planet. Looking at the large stage in the distance, Janeway wondered if they would ever reach it.

"What are they doing?" Sek asked, looking at the variety of rides before them. "The centrifugal force alone would cause headaches, not to mention," the hologram pointed at a rail car system flying rapidly over tracks arranged in a series of curves, turns, and waves, "the neck aches, back aches and stomach irregularities that is certain to cause."

"It's called a roller coaster, Sek," Janeway explained. "And no, we're not going on it," she said sternly, cutting off the look she saw forming in Seven's eyes. To her right, Tuvok was relieved, certain that Starfleet never meant for their chief of security to ride in such a contraption. It was completely illogical.

Still it took over an hour for the group to make their way to the stage, Sek's new backpack now stuffed to the brim with toys and trinkets courtesy of the Caron people. When the counselor realized people were just throwing them over the heads of the security force, she deliberately stayed a few steps behind Janeway, allowing her to catch the gifts and stick them into the backpack. After all, her subroutines included diplomacy and wasn't it impolite to the extreme to refuse a gift?

Premier Garrock was waiting for them at the platform, along with several dignitaries Janeway recognized from their initial landing. The primarily male group all took the time to kneel down to Naomi's level and greet her, the universal translator built into the comm badge allowing the young girl to accept and answer them all politely, thanking them for the invitation to visit their beautiful planet and wishing them well on this most special of holidays. Janeway wondered who had been coaching Naomi, then decided that it most likely had been Samantha Wildman and Neelix. Whoever did it, Naomi Wildman was charming the pants off of the Ginsians and smiles were on every face.

"She is a very personable young girl," Premier Garrock said as he took up residence on Janeway's left.

"That she is, Premier," the captain answered, noting that Seven was keeping her eyes on the child at all times. Like a cheetah protecting her cubs, Janeway thought.

"We are most honored that you have allowed her to visit on this most special of all nights," he said. "Our children are our future, and they are the ones celebrated the most during the holiday of family," he explained.

"So each day honors a different role?" Sek asked, stepping closer and joining the conversation. "I understand you honor the dead on the fifth day."

"Yes," he said, obviously pleased at the hologram's knowledge. "Mothers are honored tomorrow and fathers are graced after that. Has anyone explained to you about the sky lights?"

"No, they haven't," Sek replied, clearly interested.

"We use explosive charges to light the sky with brilliant colors. Oh, you will enjoy this, I am sure. I authorized extra funds to the sky lights this time to honor the people of Voyager. Allow me to show you." He took Sek's hand and led her away, chatting animatedly the entire time. Janeway's uneasiness was lessened somewhat when she saw that the Premier did not remove Sek from the stage, but merely took her over to a side table where he showed her charts of some sort. Janeway noted that her holographic medical assistant/counselor was developing into quite the ambassador for Voyager. Unlike the Doctor's acerbic wit, Sek carried a far more compassionate attitude and tone, picking up on moods with just a moment's observation, and causing anyone she met to feel comfortable around her.

Sek had not let Janeway know about her sensitivity to an individual's mood, but the captain was aware from the way the hologram looked at her at times. It was the same look Janeway used to get from Starfleet Betazed counselors and the defenses she had learned long ago always kicked into play, slamming the command mask down hard and blocking any insight into her soul. Blocking it to anyone, that is, but her wife who seemed to be able to pinpoint Kathryn's inner thoughts just by checking out the color of her eyes. Janeway remembered reading about plastic lenses that people wore before corrective vision surgery was commonplace. The lenses had been offered in a variety of colors and she wondered if such a thing could be replicated. Certainly there were many times when she did not want her emotions to be so easily picked up, not even by Seven.

Janeway was pulled from her musings by the sight of the premier moving to the large group of microphones sitting on a podium in the center of the stage. Immediately the crowd grew quiet and Janeway made her way over to the chair reserved for her, noting that the other members of the team were taking their seats except for Tuvok, who maintained his constant presence at her side.

"Families of Caron and the rest of Ginse," he began, his voice booming seconds later over the multitude of speakers set up throughout the festival area.

Janeway knew someone from Voyager was carrying a tricorder and discreetly recording the ceremony for Ensign Wildman, although Voyager was promised magnetic tape copies of the ceremony from different angles by all the communication stations that were recording it for the news and posterity. Still, Kathryn mused, noting how prim and proper Naomi was behaving as the Premier went on with his speech, if it were her own child being honored in such a way, Janeway would be the first one there with a tricorder, saving every precious second of it. Of course, she also had to admit to herself that she was also notorious for putting duty before personal preference, and she supposed that she couldn't blame Samantha for carrying out her duty to the ship to the best of her ability. Sometimes, a person wasn't always able to strike the right balance, as hard as he or she tried. The captain noted the discrete conversation going on between Sek, Seven, and Naomi. The Ocampa sat on the child's left while the Borg sat on the right. Apparently the two women were still coaching Naomi on what to say as the child's head bobbed up and down.

Finally the Premier stepped back and Naomi hopped off her chair, pausing when she saw the height of the podium in relation to her own size. One of the Ginse made a sound in his throat that sounded much like laughter and said something to the man next to him, who in turn, nodded and relayed the message to the next ambassador in line. Janeway watched the humorous exchange until the ambassador seated at the far end of the stage motioned to someone just behind the edge of the stage, and a stool was quickly scuttled out to the podium. The Premier made the laughing sound as well and scooped Naomi up, placing her feet on the top of the stool.

"We forgot the stepper," he said bashfully into the microphones. Seconds later the crowd broke into a sea of laughter, and it took several minutes to get them to quiet down again. The Premier motioned at Naomi and stepped back. Janeway saw for the first time what looked like nervousness, or downright fright, on Naomi's face as the young child stared out into a sea of recording equipment and hundreds of thousands of Ginsians. Seven made a sound and gave Naomi a reassuring smile.

"Good evening people of Ginse," the child said in her high voice, pausing to let the speakers relay her words after the universal translator deciphered them into something the Ginsians could understand. "The family of Voyager is honored to be your guests on this special holiday." Naomi linked her hands behind her back, her breathing returning to something close to normal and the look of terror leaving her young face. Apparently Naomi was losing her 'stage fright'. Or at least, had decided that 'being Borg' would get her through her ordeal.

Janeway listened as the youngest member of Voyager who wasn't in diapers charmed the people of Caron and all of Ginse with words of thanks for the hospitality and wishes for the people of this 'most friendly planet'. Naomi's rhythm of speech was interrupted by the constant need to stop while the speakers relayed her words and the crowd reacted to them, but the rehearsed speech and winning smile did more for Voyager's diplomacy efforts than anything Janeway or the rest of the crew could ever have done. On the night of celebrating the Child, Naomi was the child of honor, a gift from the stars to bless their special day.

After her short speech, Naomi smiled and waved to the crowd enthusiastically, a scene that would be replayed on the front of every news story on the communications monitors and printed on every news board throughout the country the next day. The Premier led Naomi off the stage to a large circle cordoned off by heavy rope. Seven immediately followed, refusing to let Naomi out of arm's reach for even a second. The children of Caron began to file in, introducing themselves and touching Naomi's forearm in a gesture of greeting. Naomi returned every greeting with one of her own, mimicking the gesture they were familiar with. Janeway noted the proud faces of parents surrounding the ring, no doubt impressed by their own children's good behavior.

Truth be told, Janeway had to admit that she and Phoebe were never this well behaved when Gretchen took them to the local fairs and carnivals growing up. She directed a smile toward her young 'captain's assistant' and busied herself in conversation with the dignitaries surrounding her.

Finally the formalities were complete and the Premier announced the start of the sky light show. Janeway leaned back in her seat and watched as a series of fireworks began to light up the sky. A quick glance showed the captain that Seven and Naomi were lying on the ground in the middle of the children's circle, the Borg smiling when Naomi smiled, both making childlike ooh and ahh sounds along with the other children. Janeway's smile crept up slowly until it was full blown, a woman watching her wife affectionately and wishing, not for the first time, that they had a child of their own with whom to share special moments like this.

One of the very few side benefits to being separated from Seven, as far as the captain was concerned, Tuvok noted, was the opportunity to accept and smoke the smokesticks being offered to her by representatives of various governments. After accepting the first one, the captain was inundated by more, hastily retrieved from somewhere else by the various ambassadorial lackeys. Sniffing the leaf wrapped cigarillos, Janeway found each to have a slightly different fragrance and smiled appreciatively at each one offered. Soon her tunic pockets were full, and Janeway resorted to pulling rank to make Tuvok place a dozen in his inside tunic pocket, much to the Vulcan's obvious distaste even if all he did was merely nod and take the offensive sticks from her. The security chief clearly did not know why the captain insisted on taking them since Seven would never let Janeway smoke them in their quarters. As the limit on his pocket was being tested by yet another smokestick, the Vulcan resigned himself to the fact that his captain, a close friend for many years, a person he trusted with his life and would gladly lay his life down for, would receive her just desserts when Seven found out. Sometimes Kathryn Janeway just had to learn the hard way.

A polite tap on her shoulder alerted Janeway that Tuvok required her attention.

"Captain, if I may point out," he began.

"I'll keep them hidden in my ready room," she answered, aware of what his concerns were about. "If we can lower the fire suppression sensitivity for incense and candles burning, surely adjusting it for these little sticks won't be too difficult."

"It is of course, your decision, Captain," he said evenly, letting Janeway know without words what he thought of the idea. "However, we have far more of these ... items," he allowed, certain Janeway would not have approved his initial thought, "than you could possibly conceal in your ready room." He held up a backpack much like the one Sek had, stuffed with smokesticks and fancy lighters, along with an invoice for several cases which someone, no doubt a distributor of some sort, had pressed into his hand.

"I see," she said slowly, eyeing the sticks as a child would a tray of sweets. This was not good at all. Janeway had no intention of giving up her precious booty, but it was certain to cause more dissension with Seven, who had clearly put her foot down about allowing Janeway to bring any into their quarters. And there was no way she was going to be able to hide cases of them in any of the cargo bays.

Tuvok supposed the captain was lucky that the fight she and Lt. Ro had gotten involved in at the space station's tavern caused her to lose the box of smokesticks Twimm had given her. He had been informed by Seven herself that even the taste of it in the captain's kiss several hours later had caused the Borg to issue her a lecture about the dangers of smokesticks, including the very intimidating threat of not getting a kiss from those finely shaped lips.

"Please politely decline any future offers," Janeway said with honest regret. "Just show them the bag and explain we have too many now. And cancel that shipping invoice."

"We could always offer to return half of what we have, as well," Tuvok offered.

Janeway gave a short laugh and shook her head. "Not a chance, Mr. Tuvok. I'm holding you personally responsible, as head of security, to make sure that bag is put into a stasis pouch and secured within my ready room."

She took another look at the children's circle, noticing both Seven and Naomi pointing at the latest pyrotechnic display, a series of timed explosions that spelled out Voyager in both Federation symbols and that of the Caron people. Kathryn leaned over until she was within whispering distance of her Vulcan friend, not wanting her spouse's Borg enhanced ears to pick up on the conversation, despite the impracticality of it due to the noise the fireworks and crowd were making.

"I'm trusting you as a friend not to tell Seven about them."

Tuvok stiffened, ready to point out that Janeway would probably no more than light the first one in her ready room and Seven would appear to stop her, but decided against it. Sometimes the captain really did have to learn the hard way. "Understood."

"Thank you," she said, sitting up in her seat, undoubtedly knowing that somewhere along the line she would pay dearly for this, but quite unable to help herself.

After the fireworks, the group was broken up to mingle and explore the crowd. Among the sea of Carons and other assorted Ginsians here for the celebration, several bands of red, blue and gold appeared in the crowd, off duty Voyager personnel cleared to participate in the night's festivities. Since the festival lasted for ten days, it was easy enough to schedule rotations with assurances that if everything stayed on the up and up, the shore leave would be extended to allow the crew to enjoy as much of the celebration as possible.

Sek, Seven and Naomi had been swallowed up by the crowd, but were still within communicator range. Tuvok took advantage of the separation to send an ensign back to the Delta Flyer with Janeway's goodies. He had given precise instructions to seal the pack in a stasis pouch and hide it in the aft compartment behind the head, hoping that would be enough to keep Seven, or anyone else for that matter, from smelling the foul weed. As it were, even an hour after the last one had been removed from his tunic, Tuvok swore he could still smell the sweet but pungent odor clinging to him.

To his dismay, he noticed that Janeway had not packed away all the smokesticks she had received, a half dozen sticking proudly out of her pocket, a rainbow of colored bands identifying which country each came from. One such stick, bearing a bright gold paper band, was stuck neatly between her teeth while an ambassador happily held a flame out for her. Janeway puffed twice and removed the stick from her mouth long enough to smile and thank the ambassador before resuming her obvious enjoyment of the foul smelling present. The captain walked over to him, happily puffing away. "Are you having fun, Mr. Tuvok?"

He politely took a step to the side, noting the direction of the wind and thus, the smoke. "I am not here to 'have fun', Captain. I am here to keep you from ending up in jail. It tends to have a negative effect on Seven which in turn makes Lt. Torres rather unbearable to deal with which makes Lt. Ro--"

"I get the point, Mr. Tuvok," she said, holding her hand up to stop him from going on. "I guess I'm lucky I have you here to keep an eye on me then, hmm?"

"It seems you are one of the harder assignments for me to get volunteers for," he said evenly. "Even from Beta Squad," he said, referring to the most elite of the security team, a group of crack shots and skilled officers who usually jumped at danger.

Janeway laughed and rested her free hand on his shoulder. "I don't doubt that for a minute, Mr. Tuvok. I'm not entirely sure Lt. Ro has forgiven me for not telling her that I had already canceled the self-destruct on the shuttlecraft."

"Yes," he said slowly, remembering the incident. "Lt. Ro was quite displeased at passing out while on duty." In fact, for days the Bajoran had ranted and raved about the captain's sense of humor ... or lack thereof ... to anyone who dared come near her.

"I'm sure it was more than just displeased. The rumor mill said she offered to trade a week's worth of replicator rations to anyone who was willing to take her place the next time I needed an escort to the surface."

"I heard it was three weeks," he replied, causing Janeway to laugh once more.

"When was the last time Seven checked in?" she asked, the thought occurring to her that it had been too long since hearing her beloved's voice.

"One point six hours ... and three smokesticks ago," Tuvok said, shifting out of the path of the smoke again.

"I'd better check on our wayward crew members," she said, facing him to conceal her actions from the majority of the passing celebrants, a futile effort, since like specimens under glass, anyone sporting a band of color across their shoulders was stared at and given all the attention of a fine piece of artwork. "Janeway to Seven." There was a pause. "Seven, respond."

"Seven here," came the reply. "We are getting ready to go on a ride. The Carons are most accommodating, allowing Naomi to go to the front of a very long line. Based on a maximum of two persons per Floop and fifteen point six minutes per ride with only ten Floops, it seems illogical to wait hours in line to partake on such a ride. Explain."

Janeway smiled. "Sometimes the reward is worth the wait." Like waiting for Seven, she thought idly, remembering the time she had lost her memories of the beautiful and patient Borg, and had to prove her love by wooing her lover. "Is Sek with you?"

"Negative," came the reply, surprising Janeway. "Sek and the Premier were engaged in a conversation about irrelevant things, and Naomi and I wished to participate in fun events, as Floop is reported to be according to the children and adults that have just come back from their rides."

"Well you two have fun. Make sure you find Sek before you go on any more rides," she instructed, taking a puff of her smokestick and savoring the taste. "And Seven?"

"Yes Captain?"

"Be careful. Don't let Naomi out of your sight."

"Naomi Wildman will not leave my sight," Seven vowed gravely. "Captain, it is our 'turn'. We must board our Floop now."

"All right. Janeway out."

"Excuse me, Captain," Tuvok said, moving yet again and wondering to himself if there was any place he could stand and not get a face full of smoke. "Would it not have behooved us to ask what exactly a Floop is?"

Janeway pulled the smokestick out of her mouth as a vaguely stricken look came over her face. If Naomi wished to go on a ride, neither officer had any doubts that Seven would take her. Was it a safe ride?

"The Caron people let their children on the ride," she tried.

"The Caron children are not half-Human and half-Katarian, nor have they been raised within a starship environment," the Vulcan pointed out.

"I'll ask someone," Janeway said, turning and looking for an ambassador. Of course, being the captain of the infamous starship, she was surrounded by all sorts of dignitaries from one country or another who were more than happy to press even more smokesticks on her and explain that the Floop was a simple ride. Two people sat in a boat, shaped like a donut ... from what Tuvok could derive from the drawings in the dirt and the description ...  with the bottom of the hole filled in to allow the occupants to sit safely inside. Shock absorbing sides protected them from the artificial walls which made up the chutes that the water flowed down. The ride ran parallel to the faster moving river, in spots, but both Federation members were assured that all precautions were in place, and that there was no way the Floop boats could leave their narrow chutes. The worst the crewmembers could expect was to get wet when the water running along the bottom splashed from the impact of the Floop boat with the side of the channel. A totally harmless ride which was a source of great enjoyment for young and old, and one of the festival's most popular attractions.

"Satisfied, Mr. Tuvok?"

"Not entirely," he said, raising his eyebrow at the picture in the dirt. "There is a certain amount of danger inherent in a ride of this nature. Danger seems somewhat easily found by the various crewmembers of Voyager."

"You worry too much," Janeway said, happily putting the smokestick between her teeth. "Besides, we're not talking about an away team mission, we're talking about a ride designed for children. It's only Naomi and Seven; how much trouble could they possibly get into?"

"Precisely," he said simply, frowning as the wind changed ... again.

"Hello Captain, Mr. Tuvok," B'Elanna said as she approached, Ro Laren by her side.

"Lieutenants," Janeway responded, as the Vulcan nodded politely.

The large series of artificial lamps gave plenty of illumination in the middle of the festival grounds, allowing Tuvok to see the couple clearly. Both were dressed in their standard uniforms, gold band for B'Elanna and red for Laren but the Bajoran had forgone her usual red headband for a white one with silver designs that the security chief was certain had a Klingon origin. As with the captain and Seven, Tuvok knew Ro and Torres had gone through some very rough patches in their relationship but at the moment it seemed to be on the upswing.

"I trust you are having a pleasant evening?" Janeway asked.

"That would depend on what you call pleasant," Ro said evenly. "Lt. Torres insists on trying to kill herself on these horror rides."

"You have got to try the Widow Maker, Captain," B'Elanna said excitedly. "You go at least a hundred meters in the air and then it just drops."

"It sounds rather suicidal," Tuvok pointed out.

"Well, it stops just before you hit the ground, but what a rush," Torres said. "I have got to program this place into the holodeck."

"I hope the Ferengi never visit this place," Ro said. "These people have never heard of any of the Rules of Acquisition. They ask us how much we want to pay for something rather than telling us the price."

"I trust you are being fair in your dealings with the Caron?" Tuvok said evenly.

"Absolutely," B'Elanna chimed in. She got a look in her eye and turned to Laren. "Would you get us something to drink, please?"

Tuvok was in shock at the person before him, though of course, he did not show it. Voyager's chief engineer would never dream of saying please, let alone get that adorably devoted look on her face, not even after several anger management lessons with him. But now, even the Klingon ridges on B'Elanna's forehead seemed to soften when in the presence of Ro Laren.

Once the Bajoran was gone, B'Elanna opened her tunic, untucked her shirt, and pulled a small box out from its hiding place within her bra. Janeway kept an impassive face although it clearly required biting the inside of her cheek while Tuvok was appropriately disconcerted. B'Elanna was oblivious to both reactions as she opened the hinged box and held it out before her. "What do you think?"

"It's ... very nice," Kathryn said, looking at the finely crafted bracelet studded with ... the captain blinked. "Are those dilithium crystals?"

"As best I can tell without a tricorder," the Klingon said. "It's a present for Laren. I got it for a song, of course. They think these crystals are just pretty rocks."

Janeway smiled at the bashfulness in B'Elanna's voice as Tuvok raised an eyebrow. Even though the Klingon had proclaimed love at one point for Tom and later for Chakotay, it was nothing compared to the feelings so clearly evident for Ro Laren. "I'm sure she'll appreciate it."

"Her birthday is coming up," B'Elanna said. "She doesn't know about the bracelet so don't say anything, okay?"

"I promise," Janeway replied, politely averting her eyes as the Klingon put the present away and straightened out her uniform. The timing was good as Ro appeared seconds later with two tall glasses of ale. Now with a closer look, Tuvok was certain the designs on Laren's headband were Klingon. He privately wondered what gifts were to be bestowed on B'Elanna, noticing a slight bulge in the back of Ro's tunic.

Beside him, Janeway puffed on her smokestick and looked out over the crowd. The Vulcan followed her gaze, noticing the significant number of children running about. Soon Voyager would have to adapt to children who required more space than Safe Haven and the park for their recreational enjoyment. Perhaps Torres' idea of incorporating this scenario into the holodeck was a good idea after all.

"So what's next, oh adventurous one?" Ro asked B'Elanna.

The Klingon dared a wink at the captain as she took Laren's hand and led her away. "I was thinking of you, me, a hollowed out log and a slow ride through a nice dark, private tunnel. Think I can talk you into it?" she asked sweetly.

"Lead the way," Ro replied.

"Are you ready Seven?" Naomi asked, being checked for the third time by the friendly worker who wanted to be absolutely certain the child was safely secured behind the safety web restraint.

"I am," Seven said, her straps adjusted precisely to minimize her movement during what she was told would be a 'bumpy and wet ride'. A brief image, of an away mission where she and Kathryn were trapped on a planet and she had plunged into a raging river, crossed her mind. The undertow had bounced the frightened Borg in all directions until she forced herself to calm down and make it to shore. Even after all this time and the swimming lessons Janeway had given her, Seven still felt a bit of apprehension at the sight of water rushing past them, the boat staying in place only because of a rope secured around a short post.

"This is fun," the young girl said happily.

"I am glad you are enjoying yourself," Seven said sincerely. The smiles which had been evident on Naomi's face all night were a welcome sight to the Borg, who had no idea that her own smiles were just as frequent as a result.

Without Sek there to talk them out of it, Seven and Naomi had enjoyed several rides that most certainly would have sent their overprotective hologram running for the captain. There was the tea cup ride that not only generated great amounts of centrifugal force as the car spun its passengers around, but also produced endless giggles from the young Katarian. After that, they had gone on the 'Bumpy Bear', a ride where each person drove his or her own land vehicle on an enclosed track. The objective of the ride seemed not to win the race as much as it was to smash into the other cars. Naomi mastered that ride quickly, learning just where to connect to make Seven's car bounce, and since each hit caused the young girl to smile, they visited that ride twice. Then it was here to the Floop ride, proclaimed second only to the Widow Maker as the best ride at the festival according to the Carons following them around. Now, strapped into the Floop and hearing the sound of the water rushing by the bottom, Seven's heart rate increased slightly and she was having a great many 'second thoughts'. However, seeing the smile on Naomi's face, she didn't have the heart to tell the child that she was feeling uneasy about the ride.

The ride operator said a few quick words, wishing them well, and the crowd surrounding the ride entrance cheered as the rope was released and the pair from Voyager began their descent down the chute.

At first it seemed that Seven's fears were unfounded as the Floop leisurely followed the route formed by the chute. The water splashed against the outside of the boat but none came in. Apparently the Caron's claims of a 'wild ride' were exaggerated greatly.

Then the slope increased, escalating the speed of the Floop.

"Keep your hands inside!" Seven yelled as they impacted against the side and the round boat began spinning as it moved faster down the chute. Naomi's hair was whipping about from the wind, and Seven was certain her hair would be completely disheveled by the time they reached the finish. From the way the boat was bouncing, spinning, and rocking, Seven wasn't at all sure that her stomach would make it to the end.

To Naomi's great joy and Seven's bitter consternation, the chute's incline increased again as did their speed. This is too fast, Seven's mind screamed as they raced through a curve, a splash of water coming up to hit the Borg in the face. There is no control, no way to stop this. They approached another curve and Seven's fear about the speed proved to be justified as they crashed into a panel that, unlike the others, did not simply bounce them around and send the Floop merrily on its way. Instead, it splintered and gave way, the resulting rush of water pulling the spinning Floop over the side and down the embankment.

"Seven!" Naomi screamed as the buoyant tube bounced off the ground and assumed a vertical position. The Borg could only remain where she was helplessly as the Floop rolled over and over, across the thick grass, over the firm ground until there was no more ground. Seven felt the earth give way to water and her mind immediately recognized the sound of rushing water and realized where they were. No longer were they in the nice safe confines of the ride parameters, they were helplessly trapped in their seats as the Floop raced down the raging river.

"Stay in your seat!" Seven yelled back, terrified that Naomi would disengage her safety device in her fear and obvious need to be held. Seven was also terrified, the memories of her trip down the river racing through her mind. Focus, the deep voice of her lover said in her mind. Don't panic. If you panic, you can't help yourself and worse, I can't help you. Kathryn could help? Yes. Another wave of water crashed over the side of the Floop, soaking their legs and feet. Seven pressed her comm badge. "Seven to Janeway."

"Janeway here. What's all the noise?"

"Captain there is a problem!" she yelled, trying to be heard over the rushing water. "Request emergency beam-out!" There was a fizzle and a spark as water crashed over the back and soaked Seven's upper body. "Captain!" She pressed the badge again, disturbed to not hear the subtle chime. "Naomi Wildman! Use your comm badge."

The terrified child nodded, terror filling her and needing to look to Seven for help and protection. "Naomi to the Captain," she said as best she could but the voice still came out scared and shaky.

"Na-mi!" Janeway's voice sputtered through the wet comm badge. "We can ... bout ... min ... rals."

It took a second for Seven to mentally fill in the blanks. They were too close to the mountains, practically within them, and the rivers, according to the data the Borg had read, actually entered into the giant rock. The minerals were interfering with both Voyager, and the Delta Flyer's transporter beams.

"River!" Seven screamed, hoping her voice carried over the thundering rush of water to Naomi's comm badge. The intelligent young girl understood and said it herself into the badge but the answering reply was unintelligible and Seven was unable to make out even one word. In the darkness there was no way for the Borg to see what was around her without concentrating on her optical implant but that was impossible. All her energy was going into trying to remain calm in front of Naomi and trying to figure a way out of this mess.

Twisting and turning only served to threaten the Floop with capsizing so Seven was forced to sit back and trust in the safety restraints as the water continued to torment them. Naomi had long ago given up any hope of keeping her tears back, this event being even more terrifying than the time the aliens invaded Voyager and held her and the rest of the crew hostage. The river was fast, swifter than even the ride, and the amount of kilometers was quickly piling up. Seven's stomach violently protested the 'junk food' they had indulged in as the Borg did her best to bail the water out from the bottom of the Floop with her hands. It was over an hour before the river gave them any relief, the whitecaps giving way to slightly calmer water, though still carrying them along at a tremendous pace.

"Seven?" Naomi's voice seemed to echo around them.

"Yes, Naomi. I believe we are inside some kind of cavern."

Definitely an echo. What concerned the Borg greatly was how far away the ceiling sounded. This was a large cavern and since the river showed no sign of slowing down, it meant that they were going inside the mountain.

Naomi screamed and Seven gave an uncharacteristic yelp as the Floop suddenly fell over the side of a steep embankment and flipped over. There was a sudden stop, as if the Floop was caught on something and Seven felt the pressure in their bubble increase. They were being pushed under water, the Borg realized. Panic threatened to take over, but reflexes and the drive to protect the precious bundle entrusted to her care kept Seven from thrashing about. Instead, she opened her eyes, blinking in the darkness and forcing herself to focus on her optical implant, which fortunately seemed still to be functioning despite the abuse it was undergoing. Naomi was awake but quiet, her eyes wide although the child certainly couldn't see anything in the darkness. Seven determined that the height of the Floop's sides were to be credited with protecting them as the buoyant vessel kept their heads, if not their hair, above water. The Borg's mind filed that information away neatly, wanting to compliment the engineer who had included such a vital safety design. "Naomi ...  Naomi Wildman."

"I-I'm here, Seven," the scared child answered.

"Stay absolutely still," the Borg said, her optical implant giving her the most limited of vision, shades of green light and shadow as she activated her night vision. Eventually the pressure on the Floop lifted, and they bounced back to the surface, the water rippling gently below their faces. Seven waited a minute to assess the situation. "We are upside down, and it appears that we are still moving with the river, though the speed has considerably decreased."

"Y-yes," Naomi agreed. "We're not g-getting splashed on anymore."

"Correct." Seven regarded the rapid respiration of her companion and carefully sorted through her words. "Naomi, you are being ... very brave. I am proud of you." Those seemed to be the correct words for the situation as the child's respiration immediately lightened. Seven mentally noted how much of a good thing that was, considering that they were now existing in an air-tight, and non-replenishable, bubble. "However I must point out that we cannot remain like this."

"W-what are we g-going to do?"

Seven realized there was an alternative reason for the young girl's teeth to be chattering, beyond simple fear. The temperature of night had been reasonable warm enough, but it was much colder in the cavern and Naomi was soaked with water from their ordeal. No doubt, her systems were quickly surrendering to hypothermia. "We must get out of this vessel and get to shore. Voyager will find us."

The Borg didn't feel it necessary at the moment to tell the six-year-old ... no matter how intelligent she might be ... that Voyager's sensors were useless so long as they were near the mountains. If they were deep inside, as indeed, she suspected they were, then they were lost until they found a way out. Pushing the negative thought from her mind, Seven concentrated on their current situation, trying hard to shut out the sound of teeth chattering just a few feet from her. The only way out was up, up where the air was. It would require either flipping the Floop over, something Seven dismissed as impractical in light of there being nothing for her to grab hold of, save the short length of rope which kept hitting her head.

"Naomi. I believe I have a way for us to get out of here," she said, reaching for her harness restraints at the same time. "You must stay absolutely still. I will return the Floop to its correct position and guide you to shore by pulling on the rope. Do you understand?"

"Y-yes. I-I won't be able to s-s-see you."

"I will be just outside," Seven said firmly. "Do not doubt that. I will get you to safety." And with that, Seven released the last of her restraints and pitched downward into the cold water where she submerged and swam clear of the overturned Floop.

With her Borg hand keeping the wet rope secure, Seven found it impossible to flip the Floop over. It was a good two and a half meters above her and the best her jumping and grasping could do was make the buoyant vessel bounce, an option the Borg discarded the instant she realized it might scare Naomi. She didn't dare use her left hand on the Floop, afraid her implants would puncture the ring and cause the gases trapped inside to escape, collapsing it around Naomi and bearing her down with it as it sank before Seven could pull her clear.

Left with no other choice, Seven tied the rope around her waist, her eidetic memory pulling up diagrams of the knots Starfleet found necessary to be included in a cadet's training. It was a skill which Tuvok felt required a full week of classes, capped off by several tests. B'Elanna was not happy with that course, though she had been quite proud of displaying a knot formation before class one night that reminded Seven eerily of those she had seen in pictures of hangings. She had frowned at her friend's effort, and Tuvok had shown an equal distaste for B'Elanna's contribution.

The rope secured, Seven understood that whichever direction she chose, she had no way of knowing how far she was from shore. Borg strength was more brute than endurance, and Seven had to force down the acid taste of fear in her mouth. Fear is a most unpleasant emotion, she noted, realizing it must be ten times worse for the young girl trapped alone inside the bubble. Seven's only advantage was that her vest was somehow acting as a sort of semi-flotation device, keeping her higher in the water than she otherwise would have been without it.

Carefully sensing the current around her, Seven remembered her beloved wife's instructions to her on the holodeck. "Feel the water. It's calmer the closer you get to land. When it doubt, move to the side that is less choppy." The words served her well as it took only a few strokes in each direction to determine that going to the left led to calmer waters. Seven carefully moved around the makeshift vessel, needing the Floop floating in front of her rather than behind. It was easier to push with her head than pull should the current pick up. Seven took longer than truly necessary with checking the knot once more, verifying the security of her work and feeling the length of the knot with her fingers to make sure there were no new frays since the last time she checked. She had promised Samantha Wildman that she would personally protect Naomi during the celebration, and she had no intention of breaking that promise, not to the ensign, or to herself. Nothing was going to take Naomi away from her. Taking a deep breath to clear her mind if nothing else, Seven kicked with her legs and began the arduous task of getting them to shore.

"Both shuttles report no signs of life," Tuvok said, the update being channeled away from the general comm badges to his badge, the frequency of repeated reports with no sightings taking its toll on Janeway's nerves. The festival was eerily quiet, only hushed murmurs of the few families still lingering, offering moral support to each other as they worried, along with the Voyager crew, over the missing females. "However, that is to be expected with the interference."

Both the Type-four shuttle, Edison and the Delta Flyer were crossing over the terrain between the ride chute and the river, everyone agreeing there was no way the Floop could have gotten past the raging current. The lack of sensors made the advanced technology of Starfleet mute, the Delta Flyer forced to rely on its front lights to brighten up the darkness in search of a bright gold ring and two important people. On the ground, Voyager crewmembers, armed with every wrist light ship's stores had, were crisscrossing the ground, calling out Seven and Naomi's names over and over, making sure they hadn't missed anything in the darkness. The Carons were also in the search, communications going out all over the city sending thousands of people to the riverbanks in hopes of finding the pair.

The Premier was on the stage, frantically trying to get more information from the people around him. Crewmembers had their comm badges, which while not strong enough to reach Voyager due to interference from the ore, were still capable of carrying for several kilometers. A looping call to Seven's and Naomi's comm badges was in place should there be a chance of them hearing it and responding. Janeway remembered the last time Seven had been caught in a raging river. The comm badge had failed then too, but the projections given for upgrading the devices far outweighed the need to make them water proof instead of water resistant, so the job was filed away in the 'maybe in the future' category. When they returned to Voyager, that particular upgrade would be moved to the 'do as soon as possible' category.

The fastest transport had been dispatched to the location where Samantha Wildman and the rest of the science team was. While the Delta Flyer or the Edison would have been quicker, they were needed more to cover the vast distance of river that existed before it disappeared into the mountain.

Chakotay came running up to her, the light on his wrist glowing dimly. "It's too dark, even with the lights from the Carons, to really see anything, but we're not finding any wreckage and the reports from miles down the river are the same."

"Have Ensign Wildman and Neelix arrived yet?" she asked wearily.

"I checked before I came over to see you. The Premier says she should be here in less than an hour. Sek went with the transport and will tell them before they arrive here."

Janeway looked at him, the pale shadows from the hastily arranged lights around the stage showing the strain on her face. "Yes," she allowed slowly. "Sek is the counselor. She'll be able to help Ensign Wildman and Neelix."

"That's what she's there for," he said. "To help. We'll find them, Kathryn," he added in a softer tone. "You have to remember Seven is with her. She's not going to let anything happen to that child."

"Captain." They turned to see B'Elanna running at them full force, the Klingon breathing heavily.

"Lieutenant," Janeway said expectantly. There was no need to ask.

"There's a path of broken branches and a depression in the ground near the riverbed but it's hard to tell for sure because everyone's been trampling all over the area. The tricorders just keep giving me weird readings or nothing at all."

Janeway nodded and looked away, blankly staring at the Premier racing about the stage. "Where does that river lead?"

Chakotay stepped in, having gotten the details from the Caron. "It is mostly rapids between here and the mountains but there is a point" He paused, causing the captain to whirl about and stare at him. "Um ... there's a fork where it goes off to the right, between two mountains." He paused again, fully aware of the angry but tired eyes trying to bore through him. "It leads to a series of waterfalls." There was no need to ask how high the falls were. It was written plainly on the first officer's face, and Janeway went white as she remembered the scenic tour she had been given earlier that included those falls. The water fell over a thousand meters before crashing against the large rock formations below

"And the other way?" she said faintly.

"It goes into a cavern. The shoreline is too narrow for any Caron vehicles but there's hundreds of people on foot combing through there."

"Can Tom get one of our crafts into the mountain?"

"No Captain. There's only a small mouth, barely above our heads on the shoreline. It can't be more than thirty meters at its highest point."

"Are there any water craft that can withstand the force of the river?" It was a blind shot but Janeway had to try. Chakotay looked down and shook his head.

"Captain if I can get back to Voyager I'm sure I can construct--" B'Elanna began but was silenced by a wave of Janeway's hand.

"We don't have the luxury of time, Lieutenant." She turned to Chakotay. "Get those lights charged up and take whatever equipment you need from the Carons to help. Keep everyone on it but make sure they're careful. We don't need to be looking for more crewmembers," she added with a touch of guilt when she realized how desperate she sounded.

"I understand, Captain," he said softly, wishing he could do something, anything to ease the tremendous burden sitting on the captain's shoulders at the moment.

"I'll contact Tom again," B'Elanna offered gently. "Maybe there's another way to reconfigure the sensors to pick up Seven's Borg frequency." But Janeway was aware that they had tried every trick the engineer knew and received nothing but scrambled data in return. Still the look on the Klingon's face made the captain believe there just had to be a way.

For all their sakes.

"Oof!" The air abruptly left Seven's lungs as the Floop crashed into her, stopped momentarily by the soft sand inches below the waterline. Weary beyond anything she could remember in her existence, Seven used her Borg enhanced left hand to dig into the silt and gain a footing. The Floop continued to bounce and her grip broke free, moving them several meters further downstream before Seven could try again to get herself and the boat out of the current. She had underestimated the force of the river, having spent the better part of three hours trying to reach the shore while the currents continued to take her and the Floop downstream at an alarming rate. Her voice was hoarse from shouting words of encouragement to the frightened child trapped in the dark bubble. Naomi did the best she could but she was, after all, still a small child scared out of her wits. Twice Seven had to give up her task to swim back into the bubble and calm the little girl down. The effort was emotionally and physically draining until it was only her indomitable will that kept them going.

The knot around her waist was the only thing that kept Seven from losing the Floop when her last ditch effort found her pressed into the soft sand, the mass of her body forming an anchor that the remaining current couldn't fight. Slowly, mindful of how easily the current could catch the Floop and ruin all her hard work, Seven pulled and pulled until the river slowly released its hold on the Floop. Collapsing against the sand, Seven listened to Naomi's voice. "Seven, is it safe now?"

"Yes," she huffed, wondering where they were and how they were going to get out of there when she felt as though lifting one finger would take all of her remaining energy.

"Can I remove my harness?" Naomi asked. "I only feel dirt now."

Seven nodded her head for a second before realizing her action couldn't be seen. "Yes. Let me know when you are free." She heard the soft clicks followed by the sound of Naomi rolling free from her harness.

"I'm free." The child's voice was much closer, obviously having moved to where she thought Seven was.

"I am going to lift the Floop now," Seven said as she slowly made it to her knees. The weak feeling was strong, begging the Borg to surrender to it. "You will have to come out as soon as you can," she instructed. "Grab hold of me and do not let go."

"I won't," Naomi promised, digging through the dirt the instant she felt the Floop lift. Once contact was made with Seven's leg, the Borg shoved the Floop forward, freeing Naomi. The rope still trapped around her waist, Seven could only weakly hold the young girl as she started to cry. "I'm so scared," Naomi sobbed, her arms tight around Seven's neck.

"I know," the Borg whispered, lightly patting the wet back even though she wasn't sure why. Perhaps because that was what Kathryn did whenever Seven needed comfort. "We will be rescued," she promised, certain Voyager would find a way to locate them. She felt the shiver in her arms and realized there was a much more pressing matter. "We must find shelter and heat."

"W-where?" Naomi asked, easing her grip on Seven's neck as the Borg sat up.

"We will get some light and then look for suitable combustible materials," she said, dismayed when the remaining strength in her left hand failed to undo the wet knot around her middle. Reluctantly Seven mentally altered her implants, forming the blades needed to cut through the rope, severing it with one rather weak swipe.

That task completed, she pulled at the opening to her vest, grateful for B'Elanna's suggestion that they make all the interior compartments waterproof and secured, reducing the risk of losing any of the precious equipment stashed away in the various pockets. Seven's vest didn't sport any equipment powered by energy, not wanting them spotted in the event of a scan, but it did carry a large number of other useful items. After her previous missions, Seven had taken her vest to B'Elanna and instructed her on the set of improvements she required, including more pockets and secured flaps. Research and experience had provided Seven with other improvements in terms of inventory. Seven reached into one pocket and removed several beeswax candles and a small pouch containing flint sticks, or matches as Janeway referred to them.

Seven lit a candle and handed it to Naomi. "Set it in the sand in front of you. It will give off both heat and light." She lit another then put the rest away, torn between wanting to make it bright for Naomi and needing to be practical when it came to preserving their rations. Still the combined lights from the candles allowed the pair to see each other, something Naomi seemed to appreciate very much. The child's respiration and heartbeat were beginning to return to a normal, if tired, rhythm.

"I'm still c-cold," Naomi said wearily.

"I shall help you." Reaching into another pocket, Seven produced several plastic vials. Selecting three, she put the rest away. "Naomi. I require that you take this medicine. It will protect against disease and pneumonia."

The girl did as she was told, dependent completely on Seven to care for her. The Borg, cold herself, became alarmed at the temperature of Naomi's hand. Her mind flashed through the vest inventory and the possible uses of its contents. She did a few mental calculations in her head while reaching for the silver flask stashed in one of the most protected places in her vest.

"Naomi, you must drink this until I tell you to stop," she said, holding the flask of liquor to the child's lips. "But sip it."

Seven's mind was racing, determining the effect of alcohol not only on a child, but a child whose physiology was as unique as Naomi's. There was very little data on Human/Katarian hybrids but Seven had studied it extensively, as well as every other species represented on Voyager, during her studies in emergency field care under the Doctor. Her eidetic memory even kept track of who was allergic to what, a handy thing to know when having to determine which medicine to give someone in a life or death situation. The training had allowed Seven access to the crew's medical records, including Kathryn's, which had been an eye-opening experience. Upon discussion with her wife, Seven discovered that Janeway was allergic to a certain type of flower and the bite of an insect which had never been completely identified, the entire team beaming out immediately at the sight of their crewmember puffing up and having convulsions. Since Janeway couldn't even remember what the insect looked like, Seven made it a point to keep the medicine needed to help her spouse in one vial in the bottom of a pocket in her vest. With Kathryn Janeway, it never hurt to be as prepared as possible.

"That's sufficient," she said, giving Naomi her full attention. Seven stoppered the flask and returned it to it's proper location. "What are you feeling?" she asked, needing to know, before she went any further.

"I feel warm inside," Naomi said slowly. "Tingly."

"That is the brandy and the medicine. The Doctor assures me that the amount you have been given is not harmful. It shall help warm you while I build a fire." Seven pulled two ration bars out of a large compartment making up part of the padding of the back. Tearing open the foil, she handed one to Naomi. "You must take nutritional supplements now. Do not move from your present location." Taking a moment to make sure both candles were secure, Seven rose and lit a third candle, the light offering little in the way of illumination. Unfortunately it did show that there was nothing but rock around them, nothing flammable except...

Seven narrowed her eyes, considering the danger of such a move. Burning the Floop for heat took away their only method of getting down the river if they had to leave this location. No. Until she knew for sure how to get help, Seven didn't dare destroy their only way out. She sat down behind Naomi and removed her vest, setting it out on the ground next to her. "Did you eat your nutritional supplement?"

"Now I know why Mommy threatens to make me eat ration bars when I complain about dinner," Naomi said, earning a small smile from Seven who filed away that information to use in the future with her own children.

"There is nothing I can use to build a fire," Seven explained, not finding any reason to keep the truth from the child. From another pocket she pulled out a thin Starfleet-issue away mission blanket, completely dry, thanks to the new pocket design. "We shall have to conserve and share our own heat. I would recommend we undress and lay our clothes out in order to dry, but that seems impractical," she said, noting the dampness of the cavern. "The blanket shall have to keep us both warm." Foresight, and a devious mind, had made Seven opt for packing a king-sized blanket instead of the standard size. One never knew when one might be stranded with a certain auburn-haired captain and be in need of keeping said captain warm. Regardless of the reasons behind it, the large blanket was a welcomed shelter in the darkness and soon they were huddled beneath its protection, Seven doing her best to keep Naomi warm. "We require rest now. When we wake up, we will decide what to do next."

"Acceptable," Naomi yawned, snuggling closer to the large body holding her. "Mommy's going to be worried about me," she said into the darkness, the candles extinguished to conserve resources.

Gradually, Seven felt their body heat, aided by the reflective properties of the surrounding material, overcome the chill of their wet clothes. "I agree," she said quietly, mindful of the echo and the slowing breathing next to her. "I am sure everyone is worried." Seven tried hard not to think of how Kathryn would be at the moment, no doubt half out of her mind with worry. I will get back to you, my wife, she thought, wishing more than ever that she and Janeway shared thoughts the way the collective did, but only them and no other voices. Have faith just as you have told me so many times.

"Seven?"

"Yes Naomi?" The Borg was disconcerted by the sad tone in the girl's voice.

"I miss Mommy. I miss Neelix. I miss Fluffy."

"You will return home to them," Seven promised in a gentle tone. "As soon as I find a way out of here or Captain Janeway finds a way to rescue us."

Knowing the child needed more reassurance, the Borg brushed Naomi's strawberry hair away from her face. "I know you are scared, but we will leave this place. It is very late at night now. The Captain is undoubtedly waiting for daylight to assist her in locating where we are." She listened to the weary yawn coming from somewhere beneath the blanket.

I will protect you, Naomi Wildman. You are required for my happy existence. I will get you home. When sleep finally claimed the exhausted Borg, it was with the vision of soft blue-grey eyes and auburn hair drifting before her eyes as a final, irresistible lure to unconsciousness.

"There's no doubt about it now," Chakotay said, holding out the Caron equivalent to coffee. They were told the active ingredient was similar to caffeine but the tricorders could not confirm it. The first officer had been forced to try it, determining after a few sips that, while it was nuttier than he was used to, it would pass, and if there was something the captain needed at that moment it was coffee. "The marks are clear in the daylight."

"So they went into the river." Janeway's tone was flat, devoid of anything less than full command mode. Further away, a series of hastily erected tents stood, most occupied by Voyager members sleeping after a full night of searching the blackness in unfamiliar terrain. The insistence on safety ropes saved two crewmembers and three Carons who strayed too close to the river's edge in the darkness. Still, pulling them out had been a lesson in brute strength against nature, and Chakotay knew better than to tell the captain what he thought the amusement ride boat's chances were against that massive force.

"There's still no sign and the aerial vehicles are up now. It should be pretty easy to spot that gold boat in amongst all that green and blue."

"Keep me updated," Janeway said, dismissing her first officer with her tone. Realizing for the first time that there was a drink in her hands, she brought it to her lips and carefully sipped it, four years of replicator coffee still leaving a bad taste in her mouth. Janeway noted the odd flavor but didn't give it any further notice, swallowing without tasting, concentrating on the thousand and one things going on in her head. The teams were still working their way into the cavern, all the powerful light systems being moved through the sandy banks by carts on tracks. The Caron topographers indicated that the last exploration showed the tunnel went on for almost a hundred kilometers prior to dropping down into a chasm that could not be forged. It would be late in the afternoon before word came back that the teams had reached that point without a single clue. There was no choice but to turn back.

Sek, Megan Delaney and several Caron mothers were surrounding Samantha Wildman and Neelix when the news was broken to her. The distraught ensign burst into tears while Neelix and the others did their best to comfort her. Voyager was placed on station-keeping and the Edison and Delta Flyer were busily ferrying teams and equipment down to help. Harry Kim had returned to the ship to work on the sensor array in a desperate attempt to help find Seven and Naomi, while B'Elanna remained behind to help with equipment to navigate the raging river. The Premier and endless dignitaries expressed their profound regret to the Voyager crew, tears flowing just as much on their side over the tragic loss.

Janeway operated on whatever was in the coffee substitute the Carons made sure she always had a full cup of, the natives desperate to do something to help as the search teams continued to unhappily report no new information. The captain nodded and exchanged formal words that had been ingrained to her during her academy days and several years of rising through the ranks. She refused to rest or be comforted, despite thinly veiled threats by her first officer and even a few threats from the Doctor, forced by the situation to remain on the ship. Sek was down here and Voyager couldn't afford to have both medical officers away. After all, this was still an unexplored area of space even if Seven's Borg information indicated it was 'unremarkable'. The Borg had not visited this sector in over six hundred years and therefore much of the information had to be discarded as 'obsolete'. But Janeway ignored them all, standing as the rock at the Voyager command center, no emotion, no depth, the hard shell trying desperately to protect the heart shattering to a million pieces inside.

Annika had to be alive.

She just had to.

Kathryn did not dare look over at Samantha Wildman, the woman grief stricken beyond words. Still the keening wail reached Janeway's ears and tore at her heart, reminding her of a strawberry haired child who looked up to her with adoration and wished nothing more than to engage in the fantasy of being the captain's assistant. Janeway felt the tears start to form and wiped them away angrily, refusing to break down yet. There would be time for that later, if necessary. When every last inch of the countryside had been searched and the answer returned in one form or another with evidence. Until then, there was still hope, and Kathryn maintained a death grip on it, knowing she could never survive if she lost it.

So she stared at the sky, the trees, the ground, anywhere but the faces of those milling about, a grief-stricken silence settling over the fairgrounds like a mist. So numb was she to her surroundings, she jumped when she felt a gentle touch on her shoulder. "What?" she barked, turning to see who dared to interrupt her, expecting Chakotay with another report or Sek with another logical and gentle explanation of why the captain should rest for a while. Or another threat from the Doctor to have her relieved of command and sedated if necessary. To her surprise she found herself staring at the face of Ro Laren. "Lieutenant?" she asked expectantly, trying to make her tone ice, but it just came out as bone tired.

"I need to speak with you now," the Bajoran said. "Away from the others." She indicated with a nod of her head at a path that appeared devoid of travelers. Janeway's heart started to beat faster. Had they found something? Was Laren taking her away from the others to break the news to her privately? Janeway made it only halfway to the path when she had to stop and jerk the Lieutenant around.

"What is it?" she demanded, not caring how desperate her voice sounded.

Ro Laren looked around, making sure they were alone. "You looked like you needed to get away for a few minutes," she said simply, motioning again at the path. Janeway noticed for the first time the silver thermos secured by a thin strap around the Bajoran's shoulder. "And I don't want you to get too keyed up on Caron coffee. The Doctor got a sample and ran an analysis on it, discovering that the Earth equivalent is commonly known as Speed. The effects when you come down are most unpleasant." She opened the thermos without ceremony and handed the cup to the captain, turning the nozzle and pouring the hot brew. "Seven badgered B'Elanna for weeks to help her make a special machine that pours hot water over these mesh packets filled with ground coffee beans kept in stasis pouches. We all got to try the finished product during the experimentation phase and are now as addicted to Seven's particular brew as you apparently are." The aroma finally soaked through Janeway's muddled brain and she gratefully drank while Laren finished her story. "So Harry made a pot for you and sent it down with the last shuttle run."

Janeway blinked. "I wondered where the coffee maker had come from," she muttered inanely, looking down at the cup in her hand.

It trembled and she quickly lifted it to her mouth again, not wanting to think about it. Indeed, her mind was unable to focus on anything for long, and while her crew's dedication and loyalty had touched Janeway tremendously, she was too numb to fully feel it. Instead she filled her mouth with the thick liquid, aware that it was perhaps too hot to drink, but needing the tactile connection to her wife at this time of turmoil. Ro seemed to understand, picking up the conversational ball as they walked. If the lieutenant's familiarity was out of place, Janeway did not, for once, refuse it. She needed it to anchor herself without Seven being there.

"There's a crew working their way up the other side the river where it comes out of the mountain," Ro explained. "There's a cavern there as well and Lt. Torres is working on a probe that can withstand the force of the water in order to scan the nearby area for lifesigns." She didn't need to add that the best engineers and thinkers on Voyager were working feverishly to compensate for the massive magnetic and ionic forces keeping their sensors from finding any sign of their missing crewmates. "The search beyond the mountain is being handled by the Carons and they've provided us with their radio equipment so we can maintain contact with them. There's still no sign of the Floop, but the Carons have assured us that they are buoyant even when their gases are released. Apparently they are very concerned with safety." The last was a bit ironic, considering the splintered remains of the chute wall on the ride, but neither of them chose to pick up on it.

They walked silently for a few minutes more, Janeway letting the information sink in slowly before finally speaking. "Have you seen the river?" she asked, aware of how rusty her voice sounded.

"I have," Ro allowed. "But we are talking about Seven here. She'll find a way."

Janeway gave a wan smile at that. "Has you convinced too, does she?"

"There is no one more capable of surviving what happened than Seven, even myself." Coming from the Bajoran, that was a compliment of the highest magnitude. "She will succeed. We just have to help her as best we can."

"And how do propose that, Lieutenant?"

"Collapsing from exhaustion is not an option," Ro pointed out carefully. "Surely Seven will realize from her training to get shelter as soon as possible and leave that shelter only if necessary."

"She has Naomi with her," Janeway pointed out.

"All the more reason for Seven to think before she acts and not take any unnecessary chances. She won't risk her life if it means that Naomi might be left alone. Seven will make the right choices."

Janeway could only nod at the unwavering logic presented to her. "Is the transporter technology available?" she asked, feeling the deep need to be in their quarters.

"No Captain," Laren replied. "But they have made up a tent for you. I believe you'll find the accommodations comfortable." She reached out and moved several branches out of her way. "I also believe you'll be able to figure out which one it is." Before them lay a small circle of tents, one larger one residing in the middle. Standing guard outside it was a ball of red hair who began pulling hard at the stake securing his leash to the ground the instant he saw his mistress approaching, barking anxiously.

Jake was confused, happy to see his smaller mistress, but very aware that she was sad. Giving a plaintive whimper, he looked around for the one called 'Seven'. Only she could make the sad look go away. Jake knew for certain something was wrong when they went into the tent and 'Kathryn' hugged him hard as she cried helplessly. Jake remembered a time when his taller mistress had also cried a lot on his fur and he dreaded a return to that time. He whimpered in empathy and licked his mistress's hands and face with all the comfort he could provide. Together, they crawled onto the cot where his person continued to weep for a long time before she finally surrendered to exhaustion and fell asleep. Jake steadfastly kept his eyes on the opening, refusing to let anyone near, waiting patiently for the one person he knew would truly be able to comfort his small one. Seven stepped out of the tunnel, pleased to see Naomi sitting right where she had left the child, the beeswax candle burning brightly before her. "Did you find a way out?" Naomi asked hopefully.

"The tunnel continues for several meters before the path is blocked by rocks," Seven said, sinking down to the sand across from the child. Her optical implant picked up the distinct tracks where tears had been hastily wiped away. Naomi did not mention it so Seven remained quiet, knowing the child would come to her for comfort when ready. Right now, apparently, Naomi wanted to appear unafraid, and Seven was struck by just how brave the young child was being.

"We must ingest nutritional supplements now and I will try the next tunnel." Day and night had no meaning in the pitch blackness, but Seven estimated they had been missing for well over thirty hours. Her searches of the previous three tunnels had produced the same result, and Seven added frustration to her list of annoying human emotions. Two waterproof pouches from an inside vest pocket made excellent canteens, and despite the dangers of the river, the water was quite drinkable. While they quietly nibbled on the ration bars, Seven mentally assessed the situation again. The cavern they were in seemed to lead to nowhere, though the Borg was aware that there were still two more tunnels to explore before the option of following the river became viable. The rock formations effectively kept them right where they were along the shoreline and the only way to continue downstream required them to use the Floop.

"Seven?"

"Yes Naomi?"

"You'll get us out of here?"

Seven set the waterskin down and looked at Naomi, the child's face shadowed by the flickering flame. "I will return us to our family," she said gravely, relieved when the worry lines on the child's face seemed to ease. "Our first course of action is to determine how to get out of this mountain. The ship's sensors cannot detect us here." The Borg knew she was merely repeating things she had said to Naomi before, but keeping the child involved in the situation seemed appropriate. After all, even at six years old, Naomi possessed a keen intellect and the maturity of a child twice her age.

"Seven, have you ever been lost before?"

The Borg allowed a faint smile. "Yes, more than once."

"Were you ever scared?"

"Yes. There were times that I was very frightened." Seven reached out and caught Naomi's chin with her fingers much the way Kathryn had done to her so many times. "But this is not one of those times. We will be rescued or find our way out of here." She looked into Naomi's eyes for another second before pulling her hand away.

"I remember once when I was very little," the Katarian said, pausing to take a bite of her ration bar. "I got lost."

"On Voyager?"

Naomi nodded, the candlelight helping Seven's optical implant to see the motion. "I was very young, only one or two." She took another nibble from the ration bar. "I just sat down and cried until someone picked me up, and then I was back with Mommy again." She paused and tilted her head. "Have you ever felt so lost you cried?"

Seven withdrew the ration bar before it reached her mouth and looked down at the single candle giving them light. "When I was first severed from the Collective. I was ... alone ... lost and very frightened. But I did not cry."

"What did you do?"

"I begged Captain Janeway to let me go back to the Collective."

"Why? Didn't you want to live on Voyager with us?"

"Not at first. I felt very lonely. For most of my life, I lived with the voices of the Collective in my mind at all times. Suddenly I was taken away from all that I had known and put in an inefficient vessel with people that were hostile to me and would not let me go back." The Borg paused and took a sip of water. "I was very angry with Captain Janeway then."

"But you love her now."

"Of course. We are married and I love Kathryn very much."

"When are you going to have children?"

Seven took another sip. "After we return to the Alpha Quadrant."

"What if it takes years?"

"Then Kathryn and I would have to consider having our children born on Voyager." Seven was used to Naomi's frequent topic changes, the six year old having a shorter attention span than most adults. However, the Borg was puzzled by the questions, not by the nature of them but that Naomi would be interested in her and Kathryn's plans for children.

"Do all the ration bars taste the same?"

"I am afraid so," Seven said gravely. "I believe someone with no taste buds is in charge of designing them."

Naomi quieted down for a moment, setting her food on her lap. "When you and the captain have children--" She let the question trail off, either afraid or unsure how to ask it.

"When Kathryn and I have children," Seven prodded.

"Will you still want to be my friend?"

The Borg blinked several times, startled by the question and trying to figure out what was behind it. "I will always be your friend, Naomi Wildman. You are very important to my happiness."

"But you can love someone and then not love them anymore when someone else comes along," Naomi said in a high pitched tone, tears building up in her eyes.

"Come here," Seven said, reaching over the candle between them and scooping Naomi up in her arms. Another stretch brought her fingers in contact with the large blanket and she wrapped it around them, cradling the child in her arms. "You must listen to me, Naomi Wildman," she said in a soothing tone, having learned from Kathryn how to give comfort as well as take it. "Even if Kathryn and I have a hundred children, I would not love you any less. Do you love Jake?"

"Of course," the child answered, though not as smartly as she usually did.

"And when you received Fluffy as a birthday present, did he make you love Jake any less?"

Naomi considered it. "No. I miss having Jake come in my quarters to play, but Mommy said the captain doesn't want to buy her any more boots." An extremely intelligent child, it took only seconds for her to figure out what once took Seven months. "I can love Fluffy and still love Jake, just like you can have children and still be my friend."

"Exactly," Seven said, pleased that she had been able to help Naomi work through it. From the way the child was holding on ot her neck, the Borg believed the thought had been bothering her young friend for some time. Of course it could also be the result of being stranded in a cavern on a strange planet with nothing but rocks and water, as well as a Floop which both were too terrified to get into again. Regardless of the reason, Naomi clearly needed to be held, and Seven did it without reservation, releasing her hold only when the six year old pulled back.

"Are we going to go into the tunnel now?"

"We are going to finish our ration bars," Seven said. "Then I will examine the remaining tunnels. You will maintain watch over our camp." The Borg was not sure where the idea had come from, but Naomi seemed happier to think she was 'watching the camp' as opposed to simply sitting in the sand with a candle waiting for Seven's return.

The last tunnel proved to be the longest, but in its favor, it was large enough that the Borg was able to stand erect in it. Seven traveled over a kilometer before coming upon a wall of rocks, further evidence of the cave-in indicated by the previous tunnels. Now all the options her analytical mind could come up with, lessened dramatically. Her well stocked vest provided thirty ration bars, giving them five days worth of food unless Seven cut their supplements back to twice a day. She knelt down next to the wall of rocks and frowned. While she could manage with one a day, forcing her nanoprobes to compensate, the Human/Katarian was a rapidly growing child who needed her full supplement of nutrients each day. Cutting back on Naomi's portion was out of the question.

Leaning against the smooth rock wall, Seven let her Borg enhanced left hand rest on the small rocks. The rock wiggled under the weight, catching her attention. Standing up and positioning herself in case the whole wall came down, Seven carefully began pulling the large stones from the top of the pile, sending them down the tunnel as the began the laborious task. Was that ... yes, a cool breeze began to waft from the small hole in the rock pile. There was an opening on the other side. Encouraged, Seven stepped back and removed her vest and sweater, giving herself more freedom of movement by leaving just a thin blue cotton Starfleet issued undershirt. The trip to the Barellan prison had impressed on her the need to wear layers of clothing, Janeway's sweater being sacrificed to construct a much needed torch. Seven had been unable to donate an article of clothing due to the openness of her vest and having only one article of clothing covering her upper torso. Having an undershirt made her away mission outfit more efficient, and she noted it would make an acceptable covering for Naomi if need be.

With no candle to work by and preferring to use her optical implants so she could keep her hands free, Seven felt around the large stones, making sure she had a solid grip before pulling one out. Her right hand was ready to stem any rock slides that might happen or at the very least, keep them away from her toes. One of B'Elanna's contributions to Seven's outfit was the pair of heavy black combat boots that laced up the front. Duranium hidden just beneath the outer covering of the toes provided some protection, but her foot was still smarting from the last rockslide, and Seven did not want to have to be idle while her nanoprobes were mending broken bones. Better to avoid an accident entirely than to have to recover from one, as the Doctor had stressed in the Starfleet classes he taught.

The work was slow, and blisters formed on her hands, but Seven compensated by using the sides of her hands and not the palms. She couldn't stop, but the lack of a dermal regenerator meant better care needed to be taken. Seven could not just simply work herself to exhaustion. Naomi needed her and above all else, Kathryn needed her. Seven could not fail.

It would be completely unacceptable.

Finally after what felt like hours, it happened. A rock fell not toward her, but away into the emptiness beyond. Seven was able to push her hand through the opening, feeling nothing behind it but cool air. With a renewed sense of hope, Seven began to move more of the rocks. Then a small sound drifted into her ears, and the Borg would have slapped herself in the head if her hands weren't so busy. Naomi, left alone with nothing but a candle for hours, was crying to herself. Setting the rock down and picking up her clothes, Seven headed back down the tunnel.

Voyager was in mourning. Samantha Wildman was inconsolable, hugging Naomi's favorite stuffed animal to her chest and crying long past the time her tear ducts should have dried up. Sek kept a careful eye on the grieving mother, but found herself looking out more than once at the river and wondering if there just wasn't something else she could do to help. The mobile emitter allowed her to be on the surface and to change her body mass by mental command, but her knowledge was limited to the memory capacity of the device rather than the unlimited databases of the Voyager computer. Sek felt a keen sense of loss whenever she had to rely solely on the emitter.

The counselor looked over at the crowd of women huddled around Ensign Wildman, pleased to see familiar bands of gold, red, and blue. Since the birth of nine babies several months ago, the Voyager crew had undergone a dramatic change. The daycare center, which had started out merely as a place for the parents to take their children during their duty shifts had changed in function. People who weren't parents would regularly stop by to visit with the babies, and thus a table and set of chairs were brought in to allow crewmembers to eat their lunch while spending time with the babies. Eventually one table became two and the day care center became almost as much of a center for social interaction as the messhall. As such, everything each baby did from cutting a first tooth to antics designed to test parents to the limit, was constantly relayed throughout the ship, drawing the crew into the village. Right now that village was torn between giving into its own grief over the strawberry haired girl with ridges down the center of her forehead, not to mention the Borg who was married to the captain, and working to the limit to find them. Offers to brave the mighty river were rejected immediately but they continued to come from both Voyager and Caron people. As the sun began to set on the first full day of searching, Sek let her mind focus on the river and the mountain which lay downstream.

Jake was upset because his mistress was upset. The one called Seven wasn't here yet even though hours had passed as Janeway tossed and turned restlessly in fretful slumber. The fresh air and the opportunity to explore a new planet meant nothing to the Irish Setter who continued to maintain his watch over Kathryn. A male, one that he recognized on some level as belonging to the greater pack, but not to his specific family unit, dared to poke his head into the tent after calling several times. Jake lifted his lip to bare his teeth, explaining with a low growl that his mistress needed her sleep. He took the hint.

"Maybe we should just let her sleep," Tom Paris suggested.

"She would want to know," Lt. Ro said firmly, looking at B'Elanna. The trio was standing outside the captain's tent where they had been debating for the last fifteen minutes about waking her up. Finally Tom offered to do it, earning a snort from B'Elanna when she saw him immediately scramble out of the tent and run behind her and Ro Laren, mere seconds after he had braved the entrance.

"I'll get her up," B'Elanna said, deciding that Jake would recognize her as the person who owned one of the B'Rethna, which he adored. No matter how many times she replicated her uniforms, B'Elanna apparently carried the scent of her pet with her, and Jake would become practically spastic in his enthusiasm to sniff her whenever she passed the captain and him on their evening walks through the decks of Voyager. As she expected, Jake gave a short bark and crawled off the cot, coming over to her as soon as she entered. "That's a good boy," she said, patting him approvingly. In a louder voice she spoke firmly. "Captain Janeway."

Janeway started and sat up, bleary eyed and clearly disoriented. "What is it?" The others, hearing the voices, stepped inside, not bothering to note the protocol violations in entering the captain's sleeping area unannounced. "Lieutenants," Janeway added, noting Paris and Ro.

"Uh, Captain, the final reports are in from the search teams," Tom said nervously, his boyish face clouded with emotion. "There's no sign of the Floop, Seven or Naomi." Had the captain been paying attention, she would have seen the Klingon's eyes shift away at the mention of her best friend.

"With the proper equipment I believe we can assemble an amphibious vessel that can follow the river," B'Elanna said quietly, aware that the redness of the captain's eyes was reflected in her own.

"Has there been any progress with the sensor array?" Janeway asked, her voice raw. The downcast faces relayed the answer. "I see," she said in a low tone. "How long will this vessel take?"

"The Carons have offered all their resources and equipment. We can use the equipment replicator from the Delta Flyer for whatever else we need. By modifying existing pleasure crafts from the Carons, we should be able to have something by the end of the day, tomorrow." The Klingon opened her mouth to say more but decided against it. Now wasn't the time.

"Captain, the texts from the library archives suggest that there are a great many caverns within the mountain, pockets where shelter could be taken," Ro said, having spent most of the day researching it despite orders to rest after the previous night's searching. The rest of the time had been spent holding B'Elanna as the Klingon cried over the potential loss of her best friend. It never ceased to amaze Laren that underneath the tough Klingon persona was a tender and compassionate woman who needed the soft touches and tender words that only Ro could provide. The Bajoran was running on empty but it wasn't the first time she had gone without sleep. Rest would come after they found Seven and Naomi. "There used to be mining operations within the largest mountain."

That got Janeway's attention, the dull gray eyes turning to lock with the Bajoran. "Are these mines operational?"

Ro's eyes never wavered. "No Captain. They've been closed for well over fifty years after massive landslides collapsed the inner levels. The entrances were all blasted shut to keep the children from going in and getting hurt after the mines were closed."

"Can we blast through that?"

"Only if we wanted to cause more cave ins. The interior is unstable and any major vibration could cause a collapse." Ro knew she didn't have to say anything more. If there was even a chance that Seven and Naomi were trapped in the mines, Janeway could not dare do anything that could cause it to cave in around them.

"How long would it take to open the entrances by hand?"

"Too long," B'Elanna said. "We can't take any large equipment, and the force from the Delta Flyers thrusters could be enough to cause a cave in. Vehicles are not allowed on the old roads leading up the mountain."

"Captain?" Chakotay's voice called from outside the tent.

"Come in," she said, frowning and wondering just how long her first officer had been standing out there before making his presence known. Jake had taken the opportunity to fall asleep on the floor, content that the others were not there to cause his mistress harm, and relinquishing his guard duty over her for the time being.

"The Carons are bringing everyone who remembers or is familiar with the old mines here tomorrow," the first officer said. "The mountain is owned by over three hundred companies and groups, each owning a wedge like a large pie."

"Let me guess," Janeway said, holding up her hand. "Each group kept their own maps and records."

"And after fifty years," Chakotay said apologetically. "Such information would have long since been deemed useless."

"And no doubt maps of the inner structure were limited in number to keep spies at bay," Janeway said.

"Without our tricorders there is no way to tell which tunnels have collapsed until we actually come upon them," Tom said, apparently finding his voice again. Jake picked his head up, shot Paris a look, and lay back down again. "And if we do come up against a collapse, there's no way to tell if it's only a few meters thick ... or a few kilometers."

"We're hoping some of the older Carons remember the tunnels and if any had passages that led to the river under the mountain. I believe that's the best place to start before we sending thousands of people into the mountains."

"I agree," Janeway said.

"As did the Premier," Chakotay replied. "The Caron are bowing to our advanced technology, offering us whatever resources they can give."

"I can have the river vessel ready within eighteen hours," B'Elanna said, knowing it was impossible but demanding herself that she make it so.

"Make it twelve," the captain said. "Collect from the Carons all the data about the mines and get it into the ship's database. Cross-matching should give us a clearer picture."

"Aye, Captain," B'Elanna said.

"Captain, there is another matter," Chakotay said, his tone becoming more subdued. The lieutenants took the hint and made a hasty retreat, leaving the first officer alone with the captain. He was alarmed by the gaunt look on her face, although it certainly was not the first time he had seen it. "Kathryn, when was the last time you ate?"

"I don't need a lecture from you, Chakotay," she said, pulling on her boots. "The Doctor has made certain I'm receiving the proper amount of nutrients and vitamins. Is that what you needed to ask me?"

"No, Captain," he said, straightening and handing her the padd. "Sek has left the base and gone into the mountain according to the message she placed in the log. She seems to think she can get past the rock that stopped the search teams."

"So now I have three crewmembers to worry about?" Janeway said in an exasperated tone. "Dammit Chakotay, we don't need any cowboys out there."

"Sek is operating solely on her mobile emitter. She has perhaps twelve hours of energy left if she doesn't overextend herself, more if she's able to get some sunlight to power the cells."

"Did you order her not to go?" she asked, vaguely wondering why she cared, at this point, if a direct order was disobeyed.

"I was unable to reach her once the message appeared in the logs. Apparently she's learned a few tricks from Seven and managed to delay the log until she was out of reach by communicator."

At another time, Janeway might have smiled at that comment. Borg technology and Seven's unique ingenuity had changed the way many of the crew of Voyager looked at things; sometimes not always for the best but sometimes to the benefit of the entire ship. The latter had been the case when Seven's sharing of knowledge with Lt. Torres resulted in the Klingon being able to use Borg encryption codes to fool the Kunntarie into thinking Voyager was being invaded by the Borg. This time, however, Seven's little tricks had allowed Sek to sneak away on a rescue mission by herself, something worthy of a level ten Janeway lecture and confinement to quarters for the foreseeable future ... assuming Sek ever returned. Once the mobile emitter ran out of energy, it would simply store her matrix and wait for someone to recharge it or transfer the matrix into the ship's computer.

"So where do we go from here?" she asked tiredly, unable to focus for more than a few minutes.

"For now I let you get back to sleep. Lt. Kim is keeping Voyager in orbit and is undoubtedly still working hard on getting the sensors to scan through the ore. B'Elanna and the others are working on the vessel, and the Premier and his people are gathering the data about the old mines." His tone gentled and he put his hand on her shoulder, preventing her from rising from the bed. "There's nothing you can do at the moment, Kathryn. Rest now. There'll be plenty to do once they complete the river vessels and the maps."

As if Jake knew the word for 'rest', he yawned and lumbered back onto the bed, filling up the empty space where the Borg should have been. Too tired to argue and fight the images and emotions that threatened to take over, Janeway nodded and slipped back under the covers, boots and all.

Chakotay favored her with an affectionate look. "May your rest be gentle, Kathryn," he whispered, knowing the next few days would be pure hell for the captain.

"You must take care not to let the rocks pile up," Seven said as she handed the medium sized stone to Naomi, making sure the young girl had a firm grip of it before letting go. The larger ones Seven carried herself, lining them up neatly against the wall. She was pleased with her decision. By bringing Naomi into the tunnel to help, the young girl felt useful and her crying stopped. The extra hands also made the work go more efficiently, something Seven's tired body appreciated.

"I think we can get through," Naomi said excitedly, pushing up with her feet in an attempt to get through the larger hole that had formed.

"Wait," Seven said, reaching out and pulling Naomi back. The Borg's instincts proved correct as more stones gave way and spilled down. Seven turned around, shielding Naomi with her body. As she had suspected, when more stones were removed, several of the ones on the top came loose, filling up most of the hole they had created.

"All that work?" Naomi asked, unmindful of the very real danger she had just been in, dumbfounded by the thought of moving all those rocks again.

"Indeed," Seven agreed with distaste, reaching up with her hand to knock some of the dust off her vest.

It took another hour before the hole was big enough to Seven to wriggle through, her back flinching as more stones came loose and bounced off her before rolling down to the ground. Blinking, she adjusted her ocular implant and stared around in amazement.

"Seven? Can you see anything?"

"Yes," she answered, standing up and reaching through the hole to help the child through. "We need to light some candles," she said, reaching into her vest for the remaining ones. Her optical implant showed a flat surface before her and Seven arranged the candles carefully before using one match to light them.

"It's a room," Naomi said in amazement.

"Yes." Seven ran her finger across the surface, noting how much dust had built up. "It does not appear that anyone has been here in quite some time." The candlelight gave them little to go by, but it was enough for the Borg to see clearly when combined with Seven's implants. "We appear to be in an office or lab of some sort."

"So there must be a way out," Naomi said, anticipation coloring her young voice.

"It would indicate that," Seven agreed, not allowing herself to become excited. "A power supply does not appear to exist. You will stay here and consume your nutritional supplement while I search the area."

Tired from moving stones, Naomi was quite agreeable. Leaving only one candle burning for the child, Seven took another and stepped through the doorway into a large, cavernous room. An elevator sat in one corner, the thick cable dangling uselessly before it. Large boxes cluttered up another corner, the Caron symbols painted on them indicating that they were filled with ore from the mines. The room easily measured 100 meters in radius and rose higher than Seven's implant could determine. There were no stairs since everyone who used the room apparently had utilized only the elevator to get up and down. The only method of Seven ascending to where the exits would be, rested in a long straight ladder attached vertically to the wall. Rings of natural rock formed catwalks on each level, circling the room but providing no exit. Returning to the lowest level, Seven concluded their only way out was up where hopefully an exit would be found. When she returned to the room, she was surprised to see Naomi holding the candle in her hand and studying a large piece of paper with intense interest. "What are you doing?"

"I found a map," Naomi said excitedly. "It was rolled up in the corner. Are there one hundred and fifty-seven levels?"

Seven was not pleased by the number. "I was unable to obtain enough data to determine the number of levels," she said. "But that does seem to be an accurate number," she reluctantly allowed. Certainly the catwalks continued well past the Borg's visual acuity. "Does the map indicate any exits?"

"Oh yes," the child said happily. "There are exits on levels 40, 72, and 91."

"The closest one is on level 40?" Seven asked, even though her hearing was fine. Climbing a ladder for ten decks on Voyager was enough, but these levels were easily as high as three decks. To go the equivalent of 120 decks, with a child no less, was not appealing to the Borg. "It seems their dependence on their elevator was inefficient. We will have to utilize the ladder to reach the upper levels. Naomi, have you ever seen the inside of the turbolift shafts?"

Naomi set down the water pouch she had been drinking from. "Once Lt. Torres was working on the turbolift when my mother stopped by to talk to her. B'Elanna let me peek inside, but I couldn't get too close."

"It was a wise move on Lt. Torres' part," Seven agreed. "The interior of the turbolift is a dangerous place. Did you see the ladder inside the lift?"

"Yes, it went up and down the entire length."

"Yes. There is a ladder here that is similar. We will have to climb it in order to get out of here." She noticed a shiver go through the young girl. "You require heat."

Unlike the riverbank, the 'mining shaft' as Seven understood their location to be, provided an abundant amount of material for a fire. The office they had entered from the tunnel contained many rows of drawers filled with pulp paper, much like the type used to make the 'bodice rippers' that Kathryn was so fond of. Her Borg enhanced left hand quickly rolled several sheets into thick sticks that would burn for a longer period than would the loose sheets, much like the 'logs' Janeway found when they were stranded on an away mission burned longer than 'twigs'.

A metal can sitting next to a desk formed the necessary pit in which to make the fire. It took only a few swipes of Seven's left hand, altered to the razor sharp cutting tools, to cut the height of the bucket down to a more usable level. That task complete, Seven turned to Naomi. "Are you familiar with the proper techniques for starting a fire?"

"No."

"Then you shall learn," she said firmly. "It is an important skill to master. Captain Janeway taught me how when we were lost on an away mission. That knowledge has served me well in subsequent missions."

Seven took her time, explaining everything in clear, precise tones before handing Naomi the candle and letting the young child light the paper. "Now we must 'fan the flames'. She handed Naomi a paper which had been folded accordion style down the length of it. "Captain Janeway says that 'bellows' work better but 'fans' do well in a pinch. The goal is to push the fire so it catches these 'log sticks' that I have made." Seven held up the rolled up paper. "I believe if we use the Vulcan microfilament, we can fashion some sort of 'rigging' to carry the log sticks with us to the upper levels."

Time passed as the flames gave much needed heat as well as light, helping to ease Naomi's fear and, though the Borg may not have realized it at the time, some of her own fear as well. Seven waited until the fire was burning strongly before adding a few more fire sticks and looking around.

"Perhaps it would be best to rest now and begin again once we are refreshed."

Seven frowned at the lack of a comfortable place for her to put the child to sleep. In the end, the table was cleaned off, not to Seven's exacting standards, but enough that she felt comfortable letting Naomi sleep on it. The Borg took up residence in a large, if not particularly comfortable chair, waiting until the deep and even breathing confirmed that Naomi was asleep before allowing her own body to relax.

The advantage of being a hologram was that everything Sek had on her body was also holographic and thus able to be changed with a simple mental command. It allowed the counselor to generate a wrist light, and simply think it away into her matrix when she no longer needed it. At the moment, the light was a necessity despite the emitter energy it consumed. Sek was inching her way along the underbelly of a fairly long rock formation, the formation where the search party had to turn back. Sek understood now why they did. There was less than half a meter of space between the rock and ground, making it nearly impossible for anyone to traverse the area. It was almost a full kilometer before Sek was able to stand up and look around.

She was now in a large cavern complete with stalactites, the beam from the wrist lamp flashing over the rock spears formed by centuries of water and mineral buildup. A quick check of the shore showed no signs of the Floop or the missing crewmembers. Turning the light intensity down to a low beam, and thus conserving energy, Sek followed the course of the river, noting the raging water seemed to have died down somewhat.

The bank followed the river in a downhill slope which seemed endless, time going by with nothing but the constant sound of the river to keep the hologram company. Hours passed before the barest hint of color reflected back from the darkness.

Sek almost jumped for joy when her wrist beam landed on the overturned Floop. It was easy to recognize the large footprints as coming from the combat boots Seven wore with her away mission outfit, as well as the smaller ones which had to belong to Naomi. There were five tunnels leading off and while all five showed the Borg's footprints, only one showed Naomi's, with no evidence of return prints. While their exact location was still unknown, it was clear that both Seven and Naomi were alive and apparently well enough to look for another way out. Sek debated which to do first, go after Seven and Naomi, letting them know that a rescue was on its way or return to the outside and let them know what she had found. A glance at the tiny chronometer in her mobile emitter made the decision for her. There was just enough energy for Sek to get back before it needed recharging. If she waited too long, all the rescue teams would find of her would be the small emitter lying on the ground, assuming that they would be able to find her at all. As much as Sek wanted to explore the tunnels, she turned around and headed back the way she had come.

The data collected from the Carons proved to be of little use. Most who had worked on the lower levels were long dead, and any mention of tunnels leading to the river had died with them. Less than half of the groups had filed their maps in the city archives, and not one map indicated a path to the river. Voyager's best efforts narrowed the possibilities to sections on the river side of the mountain, but reducing the number of choices from 300 to 80 was not of great comfort. There were still far too many for them to send any teams in. Janeway sat in a low chair near the fire, the shadows flickering off the nearby tents. Kathryn had been there all day, getting information from her people and listening intently to the communication unit sitting on the table, monitoring the search teams' progress.

"Captain?" Janeway looked up to see Lt. Ro standing before her, a large cup in her hand.

"I hope that's for me," the captain said wearily, holding out her hand to gratefully accept the coffee. She noted quickly that it wasn't her wife's special blend, but the nutty coffee offered by the liter to the Voyager crew staying in the makeshift camp.

"Has there been any word?" the Bajoran asked, having just woken up herself only a few minutes ago.

"B'Elanna is testing her water craft but hasn't found a way to compensate for the river currents yet. You heard what happened to the first vessel?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Ro replied, having spent several hours calming the frustrated Klingon down after a simple design flaw allowed the ship to cave in on itself during the underwater tests. "I'm sure she'll compensate for the weak structural integrity." The comm unit sitting on the table crackled to life.

"Sek to Voyager."

Janeway practically stumbled out her chair in her frantic grab for the radio. "This is Captain Janeway. Sek?"

"Yes, Captain."

Janeway's command mask had slipped far too much in the last two days for her to compensate now. "Sek, where the hell are you? You know better than to run off like that."

"Captain, my emitter is about to run out," Sek said, no doubt, silently grateful that she only had a few more minutes to listen to her captain's tirade. "I found the boat."

Janeway stared at the radio, unable to ask the next logical question. To the counselor's credit, Sek answered it anyway.

"I found footprints leading into some tunnels. Seven and Naomi appear to be trying to get to the surface through the mountain."

"Did you find them?"

"Negative Captain. I had to turn back before my emitter's charge ran out." There was a short sound before Sek continued. "Captain, the emitter needs to shut down and be recharged now."

Janeway, operating on nerves alone, stared at the unit helplessly. Finally Ro reached over and plucked the device from the captain's numb fingers and pressed the transmit button. "Understood Sek. Give a full report as soon as your emitter is recharged."

"Aye, Lieutenant," Sek said, recognizing the Bajoran's voice. The channel went silent for only a minute as the word traveled throughout the festival grounds. Ro waited for instructions but none were forthcoming. "Captain?"

"Go down to the river and help B'Elanna," Janeway said. "I'm holding you personally responsible for making sure Sek's report comes to me the instant she gives it, understood?"

"Yes, Ma'am." Ro paused. "Captain, if I might point something out."

Janeway raised her head and weakly arched her eyebrow. "Lieutenant?"

"I believe this information, as sketchy as it is, would be of great comfort to Ensign Wildman."

Janeway's brain had been working on autopilot for so long that it took her a minute to figure out what Ro was trying to say. "Yes," she agreed finally. "Even a little news is better than none at all."

"Do you wish me to--" Ro began only to have the captain wave her off.

"I need to move about anyway." Janeway slowly rose to her feet, realizing how worn out she was. With the exception of a short nap the afternoon before, Kathryn and sleep had not seen each other in almost three days. Someone, she never asked who, had thoughtfully returned Jake to the ship, leaving him in the care of the various dog lovers who volunteered to watch him. The thought of crawling into her tent was tempting, but there was more important business to take care of. "If you would be so kind as to point out which tent Ensign Wildman is in," she said slowly. "I'll take care of it."

Ro pointed at the tent diagonally from where they were located. "Shall I accompany you?" she asked, concerned about how pale the captain looked under the firelight.

"Worried I'm going to collapse on the way?" Janeway asked with just a touch of humor in her voice. If she looked anything like what she felt, she must be a horrible sight indeed. Only the Doctor's insistence on her drinking a nutritional supplement periodically had kept her from keeling over hours ago. Janeway felt a slight twinge of unsteadiness but her equilibrium quickly corrected itself. "It's only a few meters, Lieutenant. I'm sure I can make it."

"Aye, Captain," Ro said, but remained in the shadows outside to monitor Janeway's progress, not leaving until she saw the captain enter Samantha Wildman's tent.

The distraught mother was sitting on her cot, three Voyager crewmembers and two Carons sitting or kneeling around her. "Captain," someone said, sending the four Voyager people to their feet.

"At ease," Janeway said in a gravelly voice, her eyes on Ensign Wildman, who at the moment seemed torn between screaming and crying. Samantha's eyes were puffy and rimmed with red, much like Neelix's, who sat next to her. With her eyes, Kathryn made Jennifer Delaney and Susan Nicoletti move, allowing her a place to sit down next to the biometrics scientist.

"H-have you heard something, Captain?" Samantha asked shakily.

"Yes I have," she responded. "Sek just reported back." Janeway continued on, mindful of the fearful look in Wildman's eyes. "She found the Floop. They weren't on it, but there were footsteps leading away. Ensign ... Samantha, they survived the river, and they're together. Rescue is just a matter of time now."

The solidly built science officer collapsed into tears. "She's alive ... my baby's alive." To Janeway's relief, Susan Nicoletti stepped forward and put her arms around Ensign Wildman.

"You'll be informed as soon as we find out anything else," Janeway said, forcing herself to her feet. To her surprise, Samantha stood as well.

"Thank you, Captain," she said, her voice far more ragged than Janeway had ever heard it before. "Seven will protect her and get her home. I know it."

"It really is good news, Captain," Neelix said, his eyes blinking rapidly. "If she's with Seven, they'll be back in no time at all."

"Yes," Janeway agreed. "Seven loves Naomi; she'll make sure they both get back."

"Chakotay to Captain."

Janeway pressed her comm badge. "Go ahead, Chakotay."

"B'Elanna has recharged Sek's mobile emitter if you wish to speak to her."

"On my way," the captain said, turning on her heels and heading out of the tent. It was several seconds before she realized that she had a determined mother on her heels followed by five supporters. Deciding it was better to let them follow than to waste energy arguing with them, Janeway crossed the makeshift camp, spotting B'Elanna and Chakotay standing next to Sek. "Report," she snapped, though it came out far less forceful than she intended. Ensign Wildman was not as gentle.

"Did you find her?" Samantha demanded, pushing past the captain and standing directly in front of the hologram.

"Ensign," Chakotay said, mindful of what the woman had been going through but also aware that she had just violated protocol. In times of crisis, discipline and order were of paramount importance lest chaos develop. However, one look from the captain explained what was going on. Mother apparently outranked captain when it came to missing children.

Sek watched the silent interplay carefully, learning a wealth of information. "I did not see them," she said. "I found the Floop and their footprints leading into a long tunnel."

B'Elanna explained quickly why Sek could not search out the tunnels, forestalling the distraught mother's question. "From what Sek says," the engineer said to Janeway. "The cavern is approximately twenty-two kilometers from where the search team was stopped. It's solid rock and will require substantial boring equipment to be shuttled down and assembled from Voyager. The vibrations from such an operation..." The Klingon stopped, knowing the rest didn't need to be said. It was the same reason Caron boring machines couldn't go through the softer parts of the mountain. Too much vibration could collapse the tunnels.

"Options," Janeway said.

"Not too many, Captain," B'Elanna said. "We can't bore through the mountains, and it will take weeks for the Carons to move all the rocks by hand so teams can get in through the old entrances." The Klingon sighed, wishing there were more possibilities available and trying hard not to think of her best friend. "We have to keep working on the water crafts and let the volunteers clear the entrances as quickly as they can."

"We don't have the luxury of time, Lieutenant." Janeway's voice was harsh, edged with exhaustion and fear.

"Perhaps we do, if only a little," Sek said, catching everyone's attention. "I noticed something on the shore when I was looking at the footprints. I didn't think much of it at the time, but it didn't seem right for it to be there."

"What was it?" Janeway asked.

"I believe it was a wax of some sort. There were drops scattered about." The hologram's eyes widened. "There was a burnt stick of wood, no longer than your finger and very thin."

"A match," the captain said, feeling a sense of relief rush through her. "A candle and a match."

"She has her vest," B'Elanna said excitedly, a very real fear put to rest. "Seven always keeps it fully stocked."

Janeway put her hands on Samantha Wildman's shoulders, knowing the biometrics officer was unaware of just how good the news was. "Ens ... Samantha," she began, mindful that the solid woman before her didn't need a captain, but a peer. "Seven's vest has many pockets and compartments. She designed it for away missions where she and others might have to survive for days only on what she has with her." Janeway felt the muscles beneath her hands relax, if only slightly. "Seven has a blanket, candles, medicine, simple tools, and ten days worth of ration bars concealed on her. Naomi has food, water, and Seven to protect her." Samantha looked as though she were about to cry again, and Janeway happily let Neelix take over at that point, guiding the relieved but still terribly worried mother back to her tent.

"Um, I'd better get back to the water craft," B'Elanna said weakly. "Lt. Ro, would you escort me please, so I don't get lost?" Not waiting for an answer, she grabbed the Bajoran's arm and tugged her away. Experience had taught Lt. Torres well, and she recognized the look on Janeway's face, having been the cause of it more times than she wanted to remember.

Chakotay seemed to recognize it as well, mumbling something about checking in with Harry and leaving. Janeway fixed Sek with a force ten look. "Counselor, in my tent, now."

It was not a request, it was not an order. It was merely the first step in a Janeway lecture guaranteed to peel paint off a ship's hull, and Sek was about to be the recipient of it. Sek, who because of her holographic existence could not use tiredness as an excuse, could only nod.

"Yes, Captain." Sek followed the captain to the tent, mentally wondering if her holographic matrix could withstand what was about to happen. Sek looked around nervously as the tents on either side of Janeway's quickly emptied of Voyager personnel, not wanting to relive their own painful memories of the captain's lectures. Some of her patients had gone into explicit detail of their beheading at the hands of the captain and an image of a dragon breathing smoke entered her mind. Sek wondered where that came from, deciding that it must have been another one of B'Elanna's contributions to her matrix.

Once inside, Janeway motioned for the counselor to sit on the cot, the glare in her gray eyes making it clear that it was not open for negotiation or even a token hesitation. Sek waited anxiously for several seconds as the captain seemed to compose herself before speaking. "Would you care to explain just what you thought you were doing out there?" The voice was calm and even, but Sek felt the edge lurking beneath the words, a lash that stripped away her holographic skin like a whip.

"I was ... utilizing my skills in the best way I knew in order to help my family," Sek said, starting off strong in the belief she had acted properly. "You would expect no less of any other command officer."

"I would expect my command officers to discuss their decisions and the ramifications of them before going off half cocked. What if your emitter had been damaged? Or you had found yourself in a situation where you couldn't have escaped to the outside in time?"

"I had considered those," Sek allowed, her determination faltering. "I altered my matrix density to compensate for the lack of space and watched my chronometer to make sure I could return before it required recharging."

"That's not the point, Sek," Janeway said angrily, pacing back and forth. "In all your studies, did you ever bother to review Starfleet protocol?"

Sek knew the captain was aware such information was basic to her matrix and that she had been attending the Starfleet classes regularly in addition to her counselor training. Clearly the captain needed to vent, and as ship's counselor, Sek was prepared to let Janeway do just that. "I was in error by not reporting my intentions prior to carrying out my actions," she tried.

"You deliberately delayed your report until it was too late for us to get to you!" Janeway said, raising her voice which she did so very rarely. It made it much more effective, and the hologram wondered why the room temperature suddenly seemed to be rising. "This isn't the Genesis planet, and you aren't Admiral Kirk. Too many things could have gone wrong and we could be worrying about three crewmembers instead of two right now." Janeway crossed her arms and glared at the counselor. Sek was certain now that the ore had disrupted one of her subroutines ... her body felt much too hot and holographic drops of sweat formed on her brow. So that was the look that gave the crew nightmares, she thought dazedly as steel gray eyes continued to bore through her.

"I understand that you are angry with me, Captain," she said finally, weakly, wondering why her voice sounded even higher pitched than usual.

"Angry is not the word and don't even think of turning this into a counseling session," Janeway warned. "We will deal with this matter back on the ship, you can count on that. How long does your emitter last?"

"Twenty four hours, unless there is some light for the solar recharges."  Sek was completely deflated now, unable to even keep her eyes from shifting away from the compact form looming over her.

"Did you see any light while you were off playing cowboy, Counselor?" the captain asked acidly.

Sek filed the reference away, determined to study it later but the meaning was clear. "No, Captain," she said meekly.

"Then we can assume you're limited to twenty four hours. What about the Doctor's mobile emitter. Are you able to use that in addition to your own?"

"Yes, I could merely switch from one to another," Sek said, starting to see where Janeway was going. It impressed her significantly. Even furious, the Starfleet captain never stopped thinking. "Captain, if Lt. Torres could make some replacement batteries, I can recharge one while using the other and significantly expand my time limit."

Janeway remained quiet but began pacing again, obviously working something out in her mind. She pressed her comm badge. "Janeway to Voyager."

"Lt. Kim here. Go ahead, Captain."

"Send down the Doctor's emitter, as well as a fully stocked medikit and a case of ration bars in the next shuttle."

"Excuse me, Ma'am. You want the Doctor on the next shuttle?"

"I want his emitter. He can handle being left in sickbay for a little while. Check with Lt. Torres to see if she has any replacement power cells for the emitters and send down as many as you can of those as well. That will be all, Lieutenant."

"Aye, Captain."

Janeway looked sternly at Sek. "You are to study every map available about the tunnels. You will take the medikit and go back in there until you find them or need to turn back." Her tone was clipped, as if trying very hard to keep herself from erupting with anger, like a volcano venting toxic gas before exploding in fury and deadly lava. Sek realized dazedly that it was the threat of what could happen that was truly defeating to a person's psyche when dealing with Janeway, not what actually did. "When you do find them, you are to take care of any injuries, make sure they are in a safe location, and return here immediately. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Captain."

"When all this is over, Counselor, regardless of the outcome, you will be confined to quarters for a length of time to be determined. You'll be limited to your office and sickbay with the exception of a medical emergency only."

"Yes, Captain." Those words seemed to be all Sek's matrix would let her say, and she was completely unable to halt the foolish bobbing of her head.

"Report to Lt. Torres." The dismissal was given but not before Sek received another force ten Janeway look. The hologram left as quickly as possible, disappointed that the interference with the ore kept her emitter from being able to simply transfer her matrix to another location. The extra split seconds of escape would have been most welcome.

"Are you sure it will hold us?" Naomi asked, holding her candle close to the ladder and looking at it with no little trepidation.

"It is crude but effective," Seven said. "I checked it while you were sleeping and found it to be capable of supporting my mass up to the tenth level. At that point, I decided that it would more taxing on my physical reserves than the usefulness of the information which could have been provided." Seven looked up again, her optical implant being strained to the limit in her attempts to see ahead in the total darkness. "Still there is a matter of your safety to consider. You are not as strong as I am, and it certainly would be quite damaging to your lifeform if you were to fall from an extended height. We must make some kind of safety harness."

"Agreed," Naomi said earnestly. "What can I do to be of service?"

"I am not sure," Seven said honestly. "Perhaps we should look at this more carefully."

Sitting down together on the floor, Seven and Naomi pooled their candlelight to examine the contents of the Borg's vest again. Seven looked at the small lengths of rope and the Vulcan microfilament, trying to fathom how the two could be used to make a harness. "It is an oversight that we did not take the rope from the Floop with us," Seven said, annoyed with herself for not thinking of it. "That would have provided us with sufficient rope to make a harness. I must return and collect it."

"Can I go with you?" Naomi asked.

"It would be preferable if you stayed here." The Borg's implant caught the subtle shiver. "Are you cold again?"

"I am functioning adequately," Naomi said in her best imitation of her mentor.

"I do not believe you," Seven said. "Obviously there is a matter more pressing than the safety harness. We must make another fire." Since the vest was lying on the ground next to her, Seven took only a second to retrieve the blanket from its compartment and wrap it around Naomi's shoulders. "I shall make a fire with our fire sticks, and make more when I come back from collecting the rope from the Floop." Seven looked around the large cavern and frowned. "It would be more efficient to try and heat the office rather than this large space," she explained, picking up her candle from the floor. "We will return to the room where you will warm up until I return with the rope."

She instinctively reached out for Naomi's hand, settling the smaller one within her own. It struck her, as it always did when she had this tactile sensation, just how much smaller and fragile a child was when compared to a full adult. She felt the shiver go through Naomi and didn't hesitate, scooping the child up in her arms and holding her close, mindful of the candle still in the girl's hand. "I will have you warmed up in just a few minutes," she promised as she carried her back to the office. "Do not fear, Naomi Wildman. I shall return us to Voyager as soon as possible."

Seven knew that faith was something extremely fragile, easily broken and sometimes irreparable. The maternal instinct in Seven forced its way to the forefront, refusing to allow anything to break that fragile bond between Naomi and her. "We will get through this," she said, hugging Naomi closer and going so far as to brush her lips over the child's brow. It was the first time she had ever kissed her. "You must trust me."

"I do," the child replied, clinging to her tightly. "I know you'll get us home safely."

Seven was pleased to note that even in her fright, Naomi did her best to help, holding the candle out before them to illuminate the way, albeit a very dim illumination but enough to allow the optical implant to make out what was before them.

"Yes," she swore, "I will." Setting Naomi down, Seven collected the metal bin and the paper sticks and proceeded to make her fire.

Seven let her analytical mind ponder over the possible knots and designs while she fished out two ration bars, mentally calculating how many were left. Food was going to become a serious concern soon if she didn't find a way out of the caverns. Fortunately Naomi didn't notice that Seven ate only half of her ration bar, tucking the rest back into the foil, even as she knew the dry, crumbly bar would taste even staler by the time she finished it.

"The fire is burning sufficiently now and will last for several hours thanks to this 'bonfire' design. There is no need to add more log sticks to it at this time." Seven handed Naomi the waterskin. "Please drink as much as you want and use the rest to wash your face." While talking she pulled out one of the cloths tucked in her pocket. She had a great many useful items in her vest, but quantity had been given up for the sake of diversity. Where Seven's vest had once been able to store almost a yard of cloth, the larger blanket and other supplies forced her to limit it to only two square decimeters of cloth. The rag now being used by Naomi to wipe the dirt from her hands and face would be the only one they could afford to use for such a purpose, the rest required to be kept clean in case of injury. When Naomi was finished, Seven took the pouch, along with the other, and tucked them neatly into her belt. "I shall be back in precisely thirty-four point seven minutes."

"Understood. I shall maintain my post," Naomi said seriously.

"As any good Captain's Assistant should," Seven said, reminding the child of her position, even if it was one which didn't exist in proper Starfleet regulations. "Captain Janeway will no doubt be quite proud of you."

The memory of Naomi's beaming face kept her warm as she headed back to the river.

Sek found she couldn't look at Janeway the next morning when they assembled just at the edge of the precipice which had stopped the rest of the crew from going any further. The hologram was forced to carry the medikit with her, requiring her to devote more energy to keeping her hand mass dense enough to carry the object while defusing the rest of her body enough to sink into the sand and go beneath the obstruction. Because of that, B'Elanna's last minute modifications gave Sek only fifteen hours per charge, but extra batteries provided her with a total of sixty hours. Captain Janeway's tone made it clear that results should be found in less than that time. Standing next to the engineer and the captain, Samantha Wildman, with dark half moon circles under her eyes, was clearly ready to cause bodily injury to the next person who tried to keep her from jumping into the river and swimming her way to the cavern herself. There had been a late night order that the worried mother was to be treated gently, thus the effort by Tuvok and Lt. Ro to try to reason with her. Sek wondered if deep inside, Janeway wasn't tempted to join Samantha in braving the raging river with nothing but their will and love for the missing females.

"Remember your orders, Counselor," Janeway said in a tone that made the other officers within earshot practically tremble. Indeed, many were wide-eyed or deliberately looking away from the Captain and the hologram.

"I will, Captain," she said before jumping off the precipice and kneeling down before the obstruction.

"When you see Seven," B'Elanna said, "Make sure you tell her that I'm going to kick her Borg ass in Velocity next time we play."

Sek nodded, understanding the special relationship the Borg and Klingon had, both women having talked about it extensively in their private sessions. B'Elanna provided Seven with a best friend, a partner in crime, whose view on things was vastly different than Kathryn's, giving the Borg the balance she sometimes needed with her strong-willed wife. Seven provided B'Elanna with someone to display her more playful side to, the naive friend who brought out many more emotions in the Klingon than the engineer would admit.

"I will," she promised. Before she ducked under the obstruction, Sek dared to look back at the captain. Janeway stood there, arms crossed, eyes a steely gray under the bright illumination of the artificial lamps constructed by the Caron. When Sek found Seven, she would tell her that Kathryn loved her more than life itself and had said so with every fiber of her being, if not her speech.

Seven carefully moved her left foot off the ladder and onto the catwalk, certain of her footing, but always compensating for the child strapped to her back. Convinced she would not fall backward into the opening surrounding the ladder, Seven stepped forward and knelt down, pulling the rope straps off her shoulders and freeing Naomi from the harness. Both slumped to the ground, physically exhausted. "I'm so tired," Naomi said, using much of her remaining energy to open the waterskin strapped to her body.

"It is ... exhausting work," Seven agreed, wiping her brow with the sleeve of her sweater. In her biometric outfit, Seven barely noticed the weather, the suit always compensating and adjusting to keep her comfortable accordingly. Without it, her nanoprobes took over the function, keeping the skin cool without the need for sweat, and giving the Borg the extra strength she possessed.

But Borg strength was more brute than endurance, as Seven learned from several lengthy lovemaking sessions with her imaginative and insatiable wife. With her nanoprobes constantly working to give her the strength needed to ascend the ladder with the added weight of Naomi hanging on her back, they were too busy to keep her skin temperature at its normal level. It was by choice that Seven allowed the nanoprobes to restrict the sweat glands, disdaining the feeling, although a trip to a planet dubbed Hellmouth by B'Elanna had been so oppressively hot that even the nanoprobes couldn't keep it completely under control. In this situation, the Borg had no choice but to let the sweat glands take over and perform the function they were intended to do.

Lying on the dusty rock catwalk, Seven questioned her reasoning behind keeping her hair at its current length, which at the moment was sticking rather uncomfortably to her head, face and shoulders. The one time Seven had required it be clipped to a very short style, Kathryn had expressed approval, but the Borg knew it pleased Janeway to be able to release it from its usual confines at the end of the day and play with it. So, in the end, Seven had let it resume its usual length to keep Kathryn happy. At the moment, however, she was seriously debating as to whether she should use the stiletto tucked in her boot to give herself a quick and significant haircut, regardless of what Kathryn might think when they finally saw each other again.

"You'll be cooler if you take that sweater off," Naomi said, the water and time having restored some of the child's natural vigor.

"That would require energy," Seven said, not lifting her forearm from across her eyes although she noted from the corner of them that the child had used a match to light the candle. She felt Naomi move closer and almost jumped when she felt a wet cloth being pressed against her forehead.

"Mommy does this when I have a fever," Naomi explained. "It helps cool me down, but it works better with cold water."

"It feels wonderful," Seven admitted guiltily, taking the cloth and using it to wipe her sweaty, dirty face. "But we need to conserve our water until we find another supply." She handed the now damp rag back to Naomi. "You need to consume your nutritional supplement now."

"You too," Naomi pointed out, moving back until there was a little space between her and Seven. "I'll get the fire going."

"You will arrange the fire sticks, but do not light it until I can check it," Seven instructed, remembering their stop the night before on level thirteen where a fire stick came loose from the burning stack and almost reached their blanket before Seven could catch it. Not that fire would harm the blanket since Starfleet used flame resistant material but still it was a safety precaution that could not be overlooked a second time. Slowly the Borg sat up, shrugging out of her vest and sweater, immediately feeling a change in temperature. "You are correct," Seven noted. "I do feel cooler now."

Using the candle for light, Seven carefully checked the 'bonfire' and deemed it to be acceptable after moving a few of the fire sticks so as to minimize the chance of them rolling away from the space provided for the fire. "You may light the fire now," she said, watching with pride as Naomi used the candle to ignite several balled up pieces of paper surrounding the stack of fire sticks. Naomi used the rumpled paper, folded accordion style, to fan the flames, granting them a strong source of light and heat for the night ahead. Not that they truly had any sense of what night and day were in this land of perpetual darkness.

"What would you like to do before regeneration time?" Seven asked, handing over one of their ration bars and fishing out of her pocket, the remaining half of the one she had opened earlier for herself. Seven knew that after she regenerated there was no choice, she would have to increase her intake of ration bars to at least one full bar per day. The strain of climbing a vertical ladder was doubled by the weight of Naomi being supported by two ropes strapped across Seven's shoulders. The young child did all she could, using the length to climb at times several rungs below Seven, but still tethered should the child slip. When Naomi indicated she was tiring, Seven would always stop at that level and position the child on her back before continuing for at least ten more levels until exhaustion would threaten to overwhelm her.

"We don't have to do anything," Naomi said. "We can just talk until we fall asleep like last night."

"That will not take long, I assure you," Seven said, wearily dragging the blanket out from its compartment. The normally fastidious Borg barely glanced at the dusty ground before laying the folded blanket down it. "We should lie down and regenerate soon."

"Just a few more minutes?" Naomi asked, having napped on the Borg's back during the last six levels.

"Very well, but if I fall asleep, you are to come to bed, and do not leave to perform biological functions without taking your candle." Seven said, untying the strong laces of her boots and forcing them off her feet.

The Borg's nose crinkled at the definite odor coming from the dark insides of her boots, discovering that the aroma, a side effect of her sweat, was not a pleasant one ... which was odd because Kathryn's perspiration always held a certain appeal to her, especially when the Borg was the cause of it. Seven allowed her mind to drift briefly to that of her beloved wife, letting Naomi prattle on about what she was learning in school. The Borg used much the same techniques as she did when having to listen to Harry Kim drone on about one subject or another, filing the information away in her eidetic memory, able to call it up in an instant. Although truth be told, Harry's conversations had become much more interesting lately, mostly involving the antics and accomplishments that Harry Jr. had undergone. Seven listened to those tales with rapt fascination, to the point of actually initiating the conversation on several occasions.

"Seven, are you listening?"

"I am," Seven said, not entirely truthfully. "What do you wish to talk about now?" she asked while reaching for the water pouch.

"Do you think Mommy and Neelix are going to copulate?"

Seven was glad the pouch had not reached her mouth as the air left her lungs in a sudden rush. She had never been shy about this sort of thing with Kathryn, so why was such a question coming from Naomi so startling and discomforting? Yet, she could not deny that it was. Utilizing a tactic she had learned from Tuvok, she carefully avoided the question by asking one of her own. "Why do you believe this will be the case?"

"Because Neelix and Mommy are always up past my bedtime talking, and they sit very close to each other when they don't think I'm watching them," Naomi said. "Mommy plays with his whiskers, and he is always making her 'special dinners' where I have to go stay with Susan Nicoletti or the Chapmans."

"I see," Seven said, unwittingly using a phrase Kathryn used when she obviously needed to buy time to think of a proper response. Apparently the rumors had some truth behind them after all. "And would this bother you?" she asked carefully, fully cognizant that she was still avoiding any speculation with the six year old daughter of the biometrics officer.

Naomi shrugged, letting her young eyes stare at the fire. "I'm not sure," she admitted. "Mommy's very happy when Neelix is around, and he is happy when he sees her. I like it when they're happy."

"You have more to say," Seven noted, trusting her still developing 'instinct'. "Kathryn would say 'but' at this point to encourage me to continue."

"But Daddy is the only one who is supposed to copulate with Mommy." Despite how mature the six-year-old had been forced to become, she was still a little girl and a great deal of her bewilderment came through. "It would be a violation of their marriage contract. Lt. Jamison told Ensign Nicoletti that he thought Mommy and Neelix were already copulating, but she told him to mind his own business."

"Lt. Jamison is second only to B'Elanna Torres in terms of being the 'mouth of the ship' as Kathryn calls it. I believe the common term is gossiper and rumor monger," Seven said. "I agree with Ensign Nicoletti. It is not any of his concern as he is not involved in a personal manner with any of the parties. However, Ensign Wildman is your mother so her actions directly affect you. Have you told your mother of your concerns?"

"No."

"And is this the first time you have had this concern come to mind?"

"No."

"Then why have you not talked with your mother about this?" Seven leaned forward, forcing Naomi's eyes away from the fire and at her instead. "You must voice your concerns and fears to your mother so she may explain them or help you to accept them. Do you remember when you quit being Captain Janeway's Assistant?" Naomi nodded. "You did not have the proper information to form that conclusion nor did you understand your feelings until you talked them out with the Captain. You must talk to your mother about your feelings and fears, but you must also make sure to tell her that you love her."

"I do love Mommy, but I also love Daddy," Naomi said. "I love Neelix too."

"And your mother copulating with Neelix will cause you to lose this love somehow?" Seven realized that all her late night talks with Kathryn and her sessions with Sek gave her many useful tools when dealing with Naomi's questions. They often mirrored her own in terms of trying to understand complex emotions. "Your thought process is unsound. I believe your next course of action is to talk to your mother."

"I will," Naomi said, covering her mouth as she yawned.

Seven breathed a sigh of relief. She really did not want to get into a discussion about Ensign Wildman and Neelix's sexual activities. Perhaps this was what Kathryn meant when she offered the occasional opinion that too much truth could be as bad as a lie. "And now I believe it is time to regenerate," she pointed out, not wanting the child to become overly tired. Naomi was very much like B'Elanna when it came to waking up, and the Borg was certain Ensign Wildman was unaware of just how colorful a vocabulary her young daughter possessed.

"I will go perform my biological functions now," the child said, carefully moving the candle near the fire until the wick ignited.

"No more than twenty paces," Seven reminded, unsure that she needed to repeat her instructions so many times to the child but not wanting to let anything be forgotten. She imagined it was much the same way when she needed to remind Kathryn to be careful whenever her spouse left the ship.

"I remember," Naomi said with what Seven recognized as a touch of reproach in her tone. It was the same tone that Janeway got whenever reminded to eat on a regular basis. Seven busied herself with rolling her sweater in such a way as to make a comfortable pillow for Naomi. The vest was a stiff yet effective substitute for herself, but Seven truly missed the comfort of her bed at home on Voyager. As her muscles continued to protest her abuse of them, Seven hoped Kathryn would allow her to take two days to just sleep on the comfortable mattress, a certain auburn haired woman by her side. Perhaps if she pushed herself hard enough they could make the fortieth level tomorrow and be out by nightfall. Seven certainly hoped so. The ration bars were rapidly disappearing. Naomi was barely under the covers before Seven's arm went around her protectively. "Good night, Naomi," she said.

"Good night, Seven."

Sek scaled the ladder, her holographic mass keeping her light on the rungs and thus expending as little energy as possible. Still she kept a close eye on her emitters, not wanting to take a chance on running too low. Already she was up to the thirteenth level and was pleased to see signs of a recent fire in a small ring only a few meters from the ladder. It was the same fire pattern the counselor had noticed in the office at the end of the tunnel. They were up there in the darkness, she knew, perhaps even in earshot. "Seven, Naomi," she called again.

"Sek," the cool voice answered from far above. Hope renewed, Sek increased her energy output and scampered up the ladder. It took only minutes for her to reach the level Seven was at, the Borg greeting her as if they were just passing each other on deck five.

"I see you're both doing well," the hologram said, her light spotting the tuft of strawberry hair poking out from beneath the blanket.

"We would prefer to be out of here," Seven pointed out. "I assume you are our rescue?"

"Not quite," Sek said, opening the medikit and noticing for the first time the lack of any energy dependent equipment such as tricorders or bone knitters. "I have to assess the situation and report back to the captain." To her surprise, Seven reached past her and snatched one of the ration bars sitting in the compartment where the hyposprays were usually kept.

"We have been conserving," Seven pointed out, gobbling up the ration bar in only a few bites. "Did you bring water?" she asked hopefully.

Sek frowned. "No, I didn't but I have enough energy left to go back to the river and refill your containers before I report back."

Seven cast a glance at the ladder. "I would very much appreciate that," she said. "It is a long way down."

"That is because you are not a hologram," Sek said with a smile, handing Seven the wrist beam taken from the Delta Flyer's supplies rather than her own holographic matrix. "Where are your canteens?"

"They are here," the Borg said, reaching over and collecting the two fairly flat pouches. "I will empty them before you leave." She did just that, drinking heavily from one before using the rest of the water to soak the dingy cloth. "How long will you take?"

"If I triple my energy output, I should return within twenty minutes," Sek said. "That will still leave me with an hour before I must use the rest of my energy cells to return to camp."

"Very well, we shall wait here." Seven leaned her head back against the rock wall, the wrist beam catching the side of her face, albeit distorting it with shadows. Sek noticed the darkness under Seven's eyes. Like captain, like captain's wife, the counselor noted. Obviously just as Kathryn was placing the rescue above her own personal needs, Seven was clearly placing Naomi's over her own. Sek handed the Borg another ration bar.

"Go ahead. Now that I know my way it will be easy for me to return with more." With that, Sek stepped onto the ladder and adjusted her mass to the lightest amount she could before moving her feet out of the way and sliding down the ladder in a controlled fall, adjusting her mass to compensate just before touching the sandy shaft floor.

Naomi was awake and munching on a ration bar when Sek returned. The young girl reacted with a broad smile and outstretched arms. "Sek!"

"Hello, Naomi," the counselor said, her presence obviously a surprise to the child. She collected a hug from her, surprised by how it made her feel. "It is very good to see you."

"Are you going to get us out of here?"

"I'm going to try. We are having trouble finding a safe way in, and there aren't many maps to help us with the tunnels."

"I have only found the tunnel that led us here," Seven said. "These levels are nothing more than catwalks that end up back at the ladder again. It is most inefficient."

"They can't drill through the rock because of the structural integrity of the mountain," the hologram explained. "The Carons took too many minerals out without taking into account the weight of the rock. They finally had too many cave-ins to continue, and eventually had to blast all the entrances shut."

"That is not good news," the Borg pointed out, knowing that relying on man rather than machine to get the heavy labor done was an exponential increase in time. "We are heading to level 40 to try and escape through the exit indicated on the map we found. It is on the table in the room by the tunnel."

The ship's counselor, always concerned about her crew, was pleased to see that Seven had finished her second ration bar. "I will relay the information to the captain. Perhaps with what I've seen of this place, we will be able to figure out which map belongs to this shaft. Then they'll know which entrance to clear."

"Agreed. Their assistance at that time would be most appreciated."

"Naomi," Sek said, turning her attention the child. "You mother wanted you to know that she loves you very much, and she will be waiting for you as soon as we get you out of here."

To Seven, she relayed B'Elanna's remark and the captain's expression, which seemed to satisfy the Borg who only insisted that someone make sure Kathryn ate and that she be made aware that they were both physically fine. One thing that Sek had learned from her counseling sessions with Seven was the Borg's utter devotion to her wife. Seven had spoken of her frustration when the captain was being stubborn, refusing to look at logic and reason, of her fears when Janeway took off on an away mission without her, of her desire to raise their children together once they returned to the Alpha Quadrant. Even the most hardened of hearts could not help but be touched by the deep love the two women shared. Sek assured Seven and Naomi that they would be watching the mountainside for evidence that Seven had made it through the entrance. If she did not, then the combined efforts of the Voyager crew and the Carons would find the correct entrance. In either event, Sek promised to see them on the outside or at worst, back here on the inside within two days time. Seven informed her that they would try the entrance on level 40, and if unable to open it, would await further instructions.

B'Elanna didn't look up when Sek returned, the Klingon far too busy trying to get the reinforced rudder assembly calibrated. Since no one knew exactly what time Sek would return, only Lt. Ro, Ensign Wildman and Janeway were waiting at the edge of the precipice. Wildman was the first on her feet.

"Did you find them?" she asked anxiously.

"Yes, they're fine," Sek assured, noting the look of relief on Janeway's face. "They found a map and are trying to get to one of the exits indicated on it." She took the offered padd from Laren and began to punch in data. "I told them we would be in contact with them in two days time if we didn't find a way to rescue them before or they couldn't get through one of the entrances."

"Good thinking, Counselor," Janeway said, surprising the hologram. "Did they indicate that they were in need of anything?"

"Other than a change of clothes and perhaps something other than ration bars to eat, they are doing fine." Sek looked directly at Samantha. "With the exception of a little dirt on her face, Naomi is perfect. I didn't see a scratch on her."

"What about Seven?" Janeway asked.

"She's tired. They have to go up a vertical ladder and the strain is showing. If they can't get through the exit at level 40 I don't know if she'll have the strength left to make it to the next entrance."

Hearing level 40 was enough to make Janeway's muscles ache in protest. "Where is the next entrance?"

"Level 72," the hologram answered, noting B'Elanna and Laren's visible cringes.

"And how much space is between levels?"

"Twelve meters." Three times the distance between decks on Voyager.

"Let's concentrate on figuring out which rock formation is the entrance to level 40," Janeway said. "B'Elanna, how goes your water craft?"

"I have the propulsion and structural integrity under control but the navigation seems rather shaky. I'm afraid the operator will need a really strong hand to keep the rudder going in the right direction."

"Captain, if I may point out," Ro said. "I not only am a pilot, but only Tuvok has been able to defeat me in arm wrestling."

"Seven's beat you," B'Elanna pointed out.

"Only when she uses her Borg arm. What I'm saying is; I believe I am the best one for the job," Ro said respectfully.

"I'm the engineer."

"Yes, engineer. The engineer doesn't steer the ship, the pilot does."

"Who cares who goes as long as someone does it?" Samantha said. "Save your lover's quarrel for later. My daughter in there."

Janeway wasn't sure how or by whom, but the word of Sek's arrival had reached the rest of the Voyager camp if the mass of Starfleet uniforms heading their way was any indication. Perhaps that was why B'Elanna was so slow to pick her head up when Sek arrived, the captain speculated. Perhaps it was time to toss Lt. Torres into a pool of water again.

"Lt. Ro will operate the craft but you're taking a safety line."

"What?"

"I'm not taking any chances. We don't know if this is the part of the river that goes to the falls or not and that ship couldn't possibly survive going over." Janeway turned to Torres. "How long would it take for the replicators to make enough cable to tether the ship from here to the cavern?"

"You're not talking about a simple tether here, Captain," B'Elanna said. "Twenty two point three kilometers is the minimum we'll need. At that distance we'll need a spool on the bank to feed it. There's no way we can take that much with the boat."

Janeway thought about it a moment. "Agreed. We'll attach the cable to the boat and feed it from the shore. Use the Edison's replicators and send the Delta Flyer to Voyager for the remaining amount. The replicators can handle an order like that in a matter of hours."

"Aye Captain."

Whatever else the captain wanted to say was lost as crewmembers gathered around for the good news. Janeway quietly disengaged herself from the crowd and worked her way back to the camp.

Seven studied the mass of rubble before her and frowned, mindful of the dwindling energy she had left, but also unable to completely accept what was before her. At level 38, the ladder ended in a twist of rock and metal where level 39 and possibly more had fallen on top of it. Freedom was only a few meters away but those meters might as well have been kilometers to the Borg.

"Maybe there's another way," Naomi said from behind Seven's shoulder, the child securely strapped to the Borg's back.

"We shall find a way," Seven said, using the light of the wrist beam to carefully scan the catwalk as she made her way to the other side. From that vantage she could see the actual damage. The catwalks above level 38 were broken in several places, making most impassable. Still, careful examination from all angles showed Seven that the levels above 44 appeared to be complete and thus hopefully secure. Now the problem was figuring out how to advance to the next level without using the ladder.

Now the strands of Vulcan microfilament became more important than ever. Seven set up camp and practiced the knot with Naomi several times until she was certain the young girl was able to master it. They tested the knot as best they could, Seven making sure not only that it held but that the angle was such that Naomi could keep the candle, their only light source, in her free hands. Seven would not be able to check it before pulling Naomi up from the level below and she explained that to the child when questioned about the repeated practices. Now the problem of Seven getting to the next level needed to be solved. The rail ringing the catwalks solved that problem, giving Seven a place to plunge her Borg implants in for leverage and vaulting up to the next deck. Once Naomi was safely there, Seven would go back and collect their belongings before bringing the process all over again It was slow going but bit by bit they tucked away the levels, resting several times before they reached level 48 where Seven felt they could safely use the ladder again. While the intact ladder was a welcome relief, the knowledge that their chance for freedom at level 40 was gone, made it a bitter pill to swallow. Seven's hands were blistered from the stones in the tunnel and climbing the metal ladder, making the thought of having to go to level 72 before their next chance of escape, disconcerting at best.

At worst, it might be beyond her altogether.

Sek's description and drawings made from memory were of no use in trying to pinpoint Seven's location. The best they could do was narrow it to six sections owned by private families that feared the government and kept few records. The scouts reported no less than forty different entrances sealed by controlled explosions. Further discussion narrowed the choices down to ten. With those numbers, large crowds of men and women began making their way up the mountain, intent on giving whatever strength they could to the rescue of the two Voyager people. In the meantime, B'Elanna worked on her idea of reaching the missing crewmembers via the river.

"River Buster ready," Ro said, her eyes reviewing the primitive dials one last time. The ore from the mountains made almost all of their equipment useless, forcing them to rely on a blend of Voyager and Caron technologies. The result was a crude but hopefully effective tube with turbine powered thrusters in the front to counteract the force of the river and a rudder in the back to control direction. The Caron equipment was bulky but B'Elanna's ingenuity had made the craft a mere three meters tall, enough to get over the precipice and through the chasm to the caverns beyond, even taking into account the low overhangs that Sek had reported.

"Confirmed, River Buster," B'Elanna's voice came over the Caron communications system. "Safety cable is attached. You are cleared."

Ro flipped the toggle switches, firing up the turbines and electrical systems. Slowly the tube lurched forward, teetering slightly on the very edge of the precipice before falling into the chasm. Ro kept the engines minimal, knowing it would do no good to try and fight the current at this point. Within minutes the Buster was back on course, guided by the currents under the overhang and stalactites. After several kilometers Ro came upon another overhang, this one barely more than a meter above the surface. "Ro to Janeway."

There was a static hiss as the Caron communication system relayed the message. "Janeway here, report Lieutenant."

"Captain, I'm approaching the second overhang that Sek mentioned. I have to dive now."

"Confirmed. Maintain contact."

"Aye Captain." Laren turned dials and flipped switches, watching the vision in the front screen change from dark mountain walls to the crystalline depths of the river. The front lights gave enough illumination for her to see several meters ahead as well as the location of the rock ceiling above her. When she spotted the outcropping beneath the water, it took all of the thrusters power to keep the Buster from being smashed into it by the currents. "Ro to Captain. We have a problem."

The Bajoran swallowed as she waited for the delay. "What is the problem, Lieutenant?"

"There's a rock formation one and a half meters below the surface. It runs the width of the river."

"And are you still under the overhang?"

"Yes Captain. I have just over one meter of clearance above the water. I don't have enough room to go further."

There was another interminable delay as Ro waited for Janeway's answer.

"Understood. We're attaching a winch to the safety rope. Use your thrusters and we'll do the rest. Janeway out."

Laren felt the tug of the safety rope and increased thrusters until she felt the Buster moving backward. She was in no hurry to return. Janeway would be in her captain mood and no doubt severely disappointed at this failure. B'Elanna would be worse, furious over a factor she had no control over, upset that her best chance to help her friend turned out to be for naught, and too stubborn to give up. Ro was certain that by the time she returned, Torres would already be working on a smaller vessel.

"I can't believe how hot it is," Chakotay grumbled, exchanging his sweatband for a dry one for the fourth time that day. Bare chested and darker than usual thanks to the sun, he reached down and steadied himself. "Ready, Crell?"

"Yes," the Bolian said, the two of them lifting a rather formidable rock and pushing it over to other workers who put the rocks and stones in a way that wouldn't come crashing down on people working on the lower entrances.

"I just hope one of our teams finds the right entrance," he said. So far four entrances had been opened, none leading to the shaft where Seven and Naomi were trapped. Sek had been the only contact with the missing crewmembers, but her reports were always encouraging. Both were fine, dirty and wanted permission to reprogram the ration bar program in the replicator. It gave the teams hope, and that gave them energy enough to brave the hot sun and cold nights to move countless tons of rock.

Chakotay heard the sound at the same time a mesh covered hand poked through a small hole and moved the stones aside. "Seven!"

"Commander Chakotay," the Borg's even voice came from the other side of the rock pile. "I require your assistance to clear these stones immediately."

The First Officer laughed and gave a salute before reaching for the nearest stone. "I will gladly comply with that request, Seven. It's good to see you," he said, although all he could see was her left hand.

"It is good to be seen," Seven said. "But I wish to be out there instead of in here." Muffled in the background Chakotay could hear Naomi talking excitedly.

Janeway's teeth rattled as the fossil fuel powered land vehicle bumped up the dusty road. The safety harness did nothing to ease her nerves as the unevenness of the road made her stomach lurch and flip over several times. In the back seat, the Premier and Ensign Wildman encouraged the Caron driver to go even faster than he was now.

Samantha was the first one out of the vehicle, her safety harness disconnected almost half a kilometer before they saw the crowd. Janeway was only seconds behind her, nearly losing her footing after jumping from the vehicle before it came to a complete stop. Seeing their arrival, the crowd parted easily, revealing two dirty and disheveled forms. Ensign Wildman broke into tears again, this time with the great joy that only a mother reunited with her child could know. Naomi accepted her mother's hugs and tears happily, understanding from Seven what to expect when they were finally rescued.

Sek had checked on their progress on the second day as promised, then again on the fourth and sixth. The counselor could never stay long, their increasing level causing the hologram to expend more energy to refill their water pouches before returning to the command center. Still, her visits to check their progress reassured them that Voyager was indeed still trying to rescue them, that it would only be a matter of time before they would be home. For the outside, Sek's reports eased fears and renewed hope among the people working so hard moving the stones. She was standing next to the pair, using a dermal regenerator to heal a rather nasty looking gash on Seven's shoulder, when Janeway and Wildman arrived.

Janeway stopped two paces from Seven, her eyes drinking in the sight before her. "It is good to see you," she said, voice raspy from the strain.

"It is good to be seen," Seven replied, taking a step forward to place her hand on her wife's elbow. It was a private signal between the two indicating that Seven wished to touch the captain in an affectionate way in a public setting. She did not need to ask twice.

"Oh, darling," Janeway said, wrapping her arms tightly around Seven, her spouse ... her Annika, who was finally where she belonged, back in her arms. It took all of Kathryn's indomitable will not to break down in tears. Instead she clung tightly to her wife, breathing in the scent of musty dust and a body that desperately required a shower, listening to the strong heartbeat pounding beneath her ear, feeling the heat of the woman whose continued existence was vital for her own. There was a time when Kathryn would have held her feelings back, saved her emotions from showing until they were alone but not now, not this time, not after waiting almost two weeks to have Seven back in her arms. This time Wife pulled rank on Captain.

The pilot found something else to do when he saw the Captain arriving with Seven and the Wildmans, Neelix a step behind and carrying the strawberry haired child. Janeway gave a brief nod of thanks before guiding Seven to the head. Moments later her wife returned, looking as if she had just arrived for her regularly scheduled shift in Astrometrics instead of spending half a month trapped in a mine shaft. If she was a bit thinner, a little gaunt around the eyes and mouth, it was something that perhaps only Janeway would notice and not anyone who knew the Borg casually. As Samantha woke Naomi and guided the child into the ensuite, Janeway glanced at her partner, who had taken a seat beside her.

"And not a hair out of place," she said, a tiny smile coming to her lips.

"Explain," Seven remarked, with but a fraction of her normal precision. "Why would I want a hair to be out of place?"

"You wouldn't, darling. It's an expression. When I come back from an away mission, I usually look like I've been ejected from the plasma shafts for a week before I look normal again."

"This was not an away mission," Seven reminded. "Plus, Naomi Wildman was much more agreeable to logic and reason over impulses and risks, thus allowing me to be more relaxed in my approach to escaping the tunnels."

"Yes, well..." Janeway presented a neutral expression as the Wildmans walked past them and took their seats on the bench next to Neelix. The pilot returned and at the captain's nod, fired up the engines. Seven buckled into her seat but not before making sure Janeway had buckled herself in first, which both exasperated the captain and filled her with such tenderness, she wondered if she would be able to make it back to her ship without breaking down in tears. The ride back to Voyager was eerily quiet, everyone lost in their own thoughts and impatient to return to their private quarters to spend much needed time with their loved ones.

There were a few more formalities to be taken care of before Janeway was able to escort her spouse back to their quarters. Though outwardly the Borg looked both composed and immaculate, Janeway was easily able to detect Seven's weariness and soreness which lingered from her ordeal. Once they reached deck three and the empty corridor, the captain slipped her arm around her partner's slender waist and felt the woman immediately slump a little, accepting the support. That alone, told her how tired Seven really was.

"Two days off for you, my love," she ordered as they entered their quarters, preceded by Jake who immediately went over to his foot dish and began to gobble up the output of several day's automatic feeding. Janeway winced as she saw it, realizing that whoever had retrieved Jake had forgotten to deactivate the device which had been designed to feed the Irish Setter whenever his mistresses were gone longer than his dinnertime.

"I'll clean that up, darling," she said. "You go to bed."

"You will join me?" Seven asked in a subdued tone.

"As soon as I'm done," Janeway promised as she hauled Jake away from the unexpected windfall and forced him to go over to the couch, having to speak rather sharply to him to make him stay.

Seven disappeared into the bedroom and Janeway quickly cleaned up the excess nuggets of doggy nutrition. She did leave one serving for him, deciding that he deserved a bit of a treat for his undeniable comfort on the planet's surface. Once that was done, she went into the ensuite and stripped off her uniform, replicating a new one for the morning which she placed on the sink counter. She showered and dried herself off, then went into the bedroom, climbing thankfully into the bed next to her beloved spouse.

"Kathryn?" Seven mumbled, wrapping her up in her arms.

"I thought you'd be asleep by now," Janeway said lightly.

"Not until I had the chance to hold you," Seven responded, pulling the captain to her as if trying to absorb her into her body. "When I was most cold and uncomfortable, I thought of this moment, of being here with you, of the warmth of your body next to mine, and it gave me the strength to continue."

Janeway felt a lump rise in her throat. "Oh, darling," she whispered, kissing the hollow of the Borg's throat. "You really scared me this time."

"I know, Kathryn," Seven responded. She paused. "I scared me, as well."

Janeway closed her eyes and hugged her partner tightly. "Don't do this again," she ordered.

"I do not anticipate taking a ride on a 'Floop' ever again," Seven said somewhat dryly. She nuzzled the captain's hair. "Did they discover why the accident occurred?"

"Just a weak partition on the chute," Janeway explained painfully. "It could have gone at anytime but for some reason, it decided to splinter when you and Naomi contacted it." She hesitated. "Sometimes I think the universe is deliberately perverse when it comes to you and me."

Seven chuckled softly. "Not entirely," she noted. "After all, the Floop could have taken the right fork where the river branched."

Janeway remembered the view she had of those falls, rivaling those of Niagara on Earth. Neither the tube or its inhabitants would have survived that, and she clutched at her partner spastically. Seven ran her hand over Janeway's back, rubbing it soothingly as she sensed the captain's agitation.

"It is over, Kathryn," she said. "We are all safe, including Naomi."

"Especially Naomi," Janeway said. "I knew you would keep her safe, no matter what, love. Samantha knew that as well." She nestled her head in the crook of Seven's shoulder and rubbed the Borg's belly gently. "Sleep now, darling. Replenish yourself."

"Kathryn?"

"Yes, darling?"

"Will you remain with me for the next two days?" Seven lowered her tone. "I know it is a lot to ask..."

"No, it's not," Janeway said immediately. "I'll need to supervise our leaving orbit tomorrow morning, after finishing off the few remaining diplomatic gestures, but I'll leave duty as soon as that's done and join you here. All right?"

Seven looked relieved. "That will be sufficient," she said.

"Sleep," Janeway instructed again, then smiled as Seven finally surrendered to her drowsiness, her breathing smoothing out and deepening. Then the captain let herself go, burying her face into the warm hollow of her partner's neck, weeping silently. It was a measure of the Borg's pure exhaustion that she did not rouse ... even for this, though it seemed Seven's arms tightened in a purely unconscious reaction, holding her close in the night.

Seven opened her eyes and discovered she was clutching a pillow tightly to herself and not her partner as her sleep-clouded mind had initially thought. She released it and rolled over ... then groaned as the deprivation she had imposed on herself for the last while declared itself loudly, with a series of twinges and aches that made it difficult for her to move with any of her accustomed grace and athleticism. She inhaled slowly, and lay on her back, looking up at the ceiling and wondering if she should stay where she was or attempt to make it into the ensuite to soak in a hot tub for an hour or so. Kathryn had always raved about the soothing properties of a bath and right now, Seven felt like that was exactly what she needed.

She heard the door hiss open in the outer living area, and carefully shifted her eyes in time to see her partner appear in the doorway of the bedroom.

"Still in bed?" Janeway asked, leaning against the doorframe with a slight grin on her face.

"I just woke," Seven explained. She attempted to move and again, was stymied by the pain in her muscles. "I hurt, Kathryn," she added, with perhaps a bit more pathetic tone than was required. However, it seemed to work, Janeway sobering suddenly and immediately coming over to the bed.

"Oh, darling," the captain said, sitting on the edge. "I'm sorry, I should have made sure you had a bath before you went to bed last night."

"I was too tired to take a bath," Seven said. She raised an eyebrow hopefully. "But I think that if you assist me, I could manage one now."

"Stay there," Janeway said, bending down to brush her lips over her brow. "I'll fill the tub, then help you in there."

Seven sighed with pleasure as her partner slipped off the bed to go into the ensuite, hearing the rush of water as the huge, whirlpool tub filled. "Have we left orbit?" she asked, then realized the hum of the background sound indicated that the warp engines were engaged.

But Janeway did not seem to notice that Seven should have already known the answer to the question.

"About two hours ago," Janeway said. She popped her head back through the door and regarded her partner indulgently. "You must have really been tired to have slept for so long, but then, you have every right to be."

"I hope that the Ginsians did not feel too responsible for what happened to us," Seven said as she eased out of bed and staggered to the tub. "It was an accident."

"Well, it got us a load of free dilithium," Janeway informed her as she helped Seven lower herself into the hot water, which was like a balm to the Borg's muscles. "Everything has a silver lining."

"Ah," Seven remarked. She relaxed into the soothing heat and closed her eyes. This was a sensation learned from her spouse and at the moment, she considered it one of the more useful and pleasant lessons she had acquired by having fallen in love with the captain. She was vaguely aware of Janeway leaving the ensuite and returning a little later. To her surprise, when she opened her eyes, the captain was bearing a tray full of finger foods, vegetables, cheeses and pastries, along with a large pitcher of some reddish liquid and some glasses.

Seven groaned. "Are you attempting to seduce me?" she asked with dismay, feeling for the first time as if she were not exactly up to it, which embarrassed her profoundly.

Janeway laughed. "Oh, no, love," she said. "You wouldn't do me much good in the shape you're in. I just wanted to replicate food that would be light on your stomach after all those ration bars, and that I could feed to you in the tub."

Seven brightened at this. "That will be acceptable," she allowed.

Janeway curled up on the mat by the tub and placed the platter next to her. For the next hour, Seven basked in absolute luxury, a far cry from the dusty and dank mining shafts where she and Naomi had been lost. Janeway fed her the morsels of food, piece by piece, interspersed by swallows of the liquid which was some kind of fruit juice, cold, thirst-quenching, absolutely a perfect counterpoint to the rest of the meal.

"For someone who claims not to be domestic," Seven noted lazily, after she had cleaned the platter completely, "you do have your moments."

Janeway leaned over and kissed her softly. "I can be domestic," she told her firmly. "Especially when my love needs pampering."

"You do it very well," Seven complimented. She stretched experimentally. "I believe I am ready to get out now." The hot water seemed to have done its job in draining the stiffness from her muscles, and many of her aches were nothing but a memory now. Her belly full and completely rested, some of the Borg's energy was beginning to return. It was even possible that her nanoprobes would begin to speak to her again after all the abuse she had put them through.

Her energy underwent another increase as Janeway used a big, fluffy towel to dry Seven off, soaking up the droplets which slipped over her body and down to the floor.

"I like this," she offered softly as Kathryn dabbed at her skin, still flushed from the heat of her bath.

"I enjoy doing it," Janeway told her with a gentle smile and Seven realized that the captain must have really been worried about her to be indulging her in this manner. Usually, Janeway reacted with anger when Seven's life had been endangered. Seven supposed that she and Naomi had been missing long enough that the captain had surpassed her anger and was now into catering to her partner's every whim.

"Why don't you go back to bed and I'll scratch your back," Janeway offered.

That pretty much confirmed the Borg's suspicion and Seven quirked an eyebrow. "That is an offer I shall never refuse," she remarked and returned to the bedroom, noting that the bed had been stripped and remade with fresh linens. Janeway was definitely being far too domestic for Seven's comfort level at the moment. She would have to address that and ease her partner's mind .... after she received her back scratch, of course.

Seven shifted beneath her and Janeway lifted up, allowing the young woman to roll over. There was a happy smile on the Borg's full lips, as there always was after indulging in one of her favorite pleasures. Janeway flexed her fingers, her hands having received a decent workout while scratching the young woman's back. Seven could derive more enjoyment from this particular caress than most Humans, and Janeway thought there had actually been a danger of taking off the first few layers of epidermis before the Borg was completely satisfied.

Janeway straddled her partner, settling lightly on Seven's groin as she looked down at her with a fond smile. "Enough?" she said.

"Yes," Seven replied, returning the affectionate expression. "You are being too good to me, Kathryn. I was temporarily out of contact with the rest of Voyager but once Sek contacted us, we were no longer in any real danger. It is hardly worth all this."

"This is not some kind of reward for surviving, Annika," Janeway told her seriously. "This is to show you how much I love you." She paused. "I almost lost you."

Seven grasped the captain's wrists in her hands gently, stroking the pulse points delicately with her thumbs. "But you did not," she said softly. "And while I appreciate all you are doing, I feel that you are becoming solicitous to me to the point of not being yourself. That indicates that you still are experiencing a certain amount of fear. I wish to allay that."

"But perhaps you can't, darling," Janeway said soberly. "Maybe it's just something that you'll have to put up with it until I get it all out of my system. If that means I pamper you shamelessly for the next few days as I get over my fear for your safety, then that's just what's going to happen."

Seven raised an eyebrow and wiggled, as if testing her freshly scratched back.

"In that event, I shall ... try to accept it," she said in her most put upon tone and Janeway laughed, feeling a little of the tension in her shoulders disappear at her partner's unexpected attempt at humor, a tension she wasn't even aware she had until it eased.

Seven smiled and used her grasp to pull her partner down onto her so that she could kiss her. "Kathryn, if I am to receive this pampering," she murmured against her lips, "then I will require you to remove your clothes."

"Oh, you do?" Janeway responded, quirking her brow. "I think that could be arranged." She sat up again and peeled off her sweater, her tunic having been removed earlier and now lying on the lounger across the room. The sweater was tossed over the captain's shoulder to join it, the sound of pips flying off at random to disappear into various corners of the bedroom. She removed her bra, then smiled as she saw Seven's appreciative expression.

"You like?"

"Very much," Seven assured her gravely, reaching up to place her hands over the firm little breasts. "I missed them."

"Just them?"

"All of you," Seven corrected. "Every square millimeter."

Janeway purred and leaned into the gentle grasp, using her partner's strength to support her as she rose to her knees and wiggled out of her trousers and undergarments. They were dropped on the floor next to the boots she had taken off prior to starting Seven's back scratch.

Seven squeezed gently and arched her hips, pressing into Janeway's moistness with the provocative tickling sensation of her blonde triangle as the captain settled back onto her. Janeway inhaled slowly, intrigued by the sensation, and aroused by it, as well, undulating slightly to increase the tantalizing pleasure.

"Are you positive you're not too sore, love?" she asked, looking down into Seven's pale eyes, a touch of concern coloring her gaze.

"Absolutely," Seven assured her. "You have healed me completely with your wondrous touch."

"Well, now, you're just being sarcastic," Janeway complained. Then she smiled and leaned down as Seven's hands slipped around to her back. "But I promise to be gentle."

"You are always gentle," Seven remarked, with a certain puzzlement.

"More than gentle," Janeway elaborated. Softly she kissed her partner, a bare brush of lips over her mouth. "Like this."

"I suspect such a method shall quickly become unbearable."

Janeway quirked an eyebrow. "That's the upside of it," she explained.

"For whom?"

Janeway merely smiled and Seven eyed her partner narrowly as the captain chuckled. With languid joy, she proceeded to become completely unbearable to her beloved Borg, tender touches that inflamed rather than satisfied, kisses and caresses that teased rather than promised ... until finally, Seven groaned and grasped her partner in an almost desperate embrace.

"Love me," she demanded.

Janeway laughed once more and did so, trailing her fingers down the warm body to find moisture that was far greater than mere need would have produced, and she realized how much she had enticed her partner almost to insanity. With firm hands and a possessive mouth, she took her partner, relieved the aching, questing urge, pleasured and healed her all at once. Seven cried out, shivering from the sensation until there was practically nothing left of the energy reserves she had built up from her food and bath, leaving her limp and sated on the twisted sheets.

Then the captain sought out the full lipped mouth, kissing her with all the delicate tenderness she had started with.

"You amaze me," Seven whispered.

"I intend to keep doing so," Janeway promised her. "Forever." She spread her legs over one lanky thigh, pressing deliciously against the smooth skin and sat up once more. "Lie back."

Seven rested her hands on the captain's hips, watching passively as Janeway undulated forcefully over her. There was a vaguely skeptical expression in her pale eyes and it turned out that the skepticism was accurate ... unlike the Borg, Janeway had never managed to satisfy herself in this manner. Aroused herself tremendously, rose to heights that trembled on the brink ... but never, ever, managed to achieve that final push over the edge. The young woman observed this for a while, seeming to take pleasure in her partner's striving, a small smile hovering over her lips. Then finally, Seven granted mercy upon Janeway, abruptly rolling them over as she reached down with strong fingers to take the captain with authority, just as Janeway needed, slipping deep inside to find that spot. Seven kissed her partner forcefully, reaffirming her absolute and passionate hold over this feisty redhead who submitted happily with loud appreciation and urging that held absolutely no concern for any aches and pains the Borg might still be feeling.

"Oh, darling," Janeway whispered in the boneless relaxation of afterglow, cradled in loving arms, her body collapsed limply over her partner. "You don't take any prisoners."

Seven, from the silence, obviously required a certain amount of time to work her way through that one, and the captain smiled and kissed her languidly.

"I mean," she elaborated, "when you put your mind to doing something, it's just full speed ahead and nothing, not even recovering from being lost for several days, will keep you from accomplishing it."

Seven nuzzled her. "You do not benefit from a passive partner," she noted. "Not sexually, not intellectually, not emotionally. I have come to realize, for me to be a truly suitable match for you, I cannot remain passive to your will, but instead, equal it both in intensity and passion."

Janeway considered that for a moment. "You certainly are quite profound at times, love," she said. "And usually after we've made love."

"It is the positive energy," Seven informed her. "It enhances my capability for reason and enlightenment."

Janeway chuckled. "Whereas, I'm lucky just to remember my name after you pleasure me so well," she said. She kissed the soft skin of the young woman's chest beneath her. "I hope I'll always be able to inspire you to such heights of introspection."

"You will," Seven said softly. "I am sure of it ... as sure as I was that you would never give up on me and Naomi." She hugged her. "Thank you, my Kathryn."

"Don't thank me," Janeway murmured. "You're as necessary to me as breathing, darling. I'll never give up on that."

The captain exhaled audibly, feeling peace and contentment spread through her with warmth and the inevitable sense that all was finally well with their worlds. It had been a hard challenge placed upon them but as always, they both managed to find the strength in their love to carry them through.

In the end, that was all either of them could ask of themselves.

Jake happily lounged on the sofa, his head resting comfortably on Janeway's feet and his tail thumping in a happy rhythm. Seven, dressed only in her short black robe, puttered about the kitchenette putting the final touches on their dinner. "Do you want to try some of the new wine?" she asked, holding up a bright blue bottle.

"I suppose we should," Janeway said. "After all, there's still two more cases of the stuff in the cargo bay."

"The Ginse were rather ... generous," Seven allowed. "I am amazed at your restraint, however."

"Hmm?" Kathryn looked up from her padd.

"You refused the box of smokesticks," the tall Borg said. "Perhaps you are trying to get rid of some of your bad habits after all."

Kathryn rose from the couch, letting the padd bounce harmlessly on the cushion. "My darling," she said, crossing the room and wrapping her arms around Seven's waist. "I love you. I would never do anything to make you uncomfortable." She moved her thumbs idly back and forth, slowly moving upward until they were captured in a strong but gentle grip.

"You know better than to try and seduce me while dinner is heating," Seven warned, eyeing her with a touch of misgiving. Janeway suspected that she had gone a little overboard in her attempt to divert her partner's attention. The door bell chimed, causing the couple to look at each other questioningly, and Janeway to heave a sigh of relief for the interruption.

"Any guesses?" Janeway asked as she took a step back and adjusted her own, more sedate robe.

"B'Elanna is on duty and Lt. Ro would not arrive without her. Commander Chakotay is also on duty and Tuvok only comes when invited."

"Well that takes care of any dinner guests." Janeway patted her wife on the back. "Go put on something less comfortable. I'll see who it is."

"Very well." Seven turned the heat off on the cooking unit and walked into the bedroom while Janeway went to the door.

It was not one of their usual dinner guests but rather a bright and smiling Naomi Wildman. Upon seeing the captain, she jumped to attention. "Good evening, Captain."

"Miss Wildman," Janeway returned. "Come in."

"Thank you, Captain," the young girl said, moving under Kathryn's arm and directly to the couch where she showered Jake with pets and hugs as was his due. "Is Seven here?"

"I am," the Borg said as she stepped out of the bedroom, dressed in her thigh length shorts and a light blue Starfleet undershirt. "Have you eaten dinner?"

"Mommy said dinner will be ready at 1900 hours."

"That is still thirty minutes away." Seven shot a questioning glance the captain.

"Would you care to join us, Naomi?" Janeway asked, earning an approving smile from her wife.

Naomi's eyes lit up excitedly. "Oh yes, that would be most acceptable."

"We need to ask your mother first," Kathryn said. "Computer, locate Ensign Wildman."

"Ensign Wildman is in Neelix's quarters."

Janeway hesitated, her imagination giving a more prurient explanation for the biometric officer's location. "Janeway to Ensign Wildman."

"Wildman here."

"Ensign, would it be all right with you if Naomi joined Seven and myself for dinner this evening?"

There was a pause before Samantha answered. "That is most generous of you, Captain. Thank you."

"Thank you, Mommy," Naomi said happily. She gave Jake a final pat on the head and ran to Seven's side. "Are you making dinner?"

"Yes," Seven smiled. "The Captain--"

"Loves the way Seven cooks," Janeway interrupted, flashing her wife a warning look. "What would you like to drink, Naomi?"

The strawberry head turned to where a wine bottle and two glasses sat on the table.

"Not a chance," Janeway said firmly, if a touch amused. "We've had this discussion before. There are certain beverages that a child your age should not have."

"Seven let me have brandy," Naomi pointed out, earning the Borg a look from Kathryn which made Seven blink at the severity of it.

"For medicinal purposes," Seven defended. "But in this case I do agree with the captain," she said to Naomi. "You will have something nutritional to drink. Milk perhaps?"

"That would be acceptable," the young girl said in her best imitation of Seven's precise tones.

"You may help Kathryn set the table while I finish preparing our meal."

"I will comply," Naomi said happily, running over to Janeway's side. "I've never had dinner with the captain before."

Kathryn smiled indulgently at the child, noting the miniaturized version of the Starfleet comm badge still on her chest. Apparently once created, no one saw a need to take it away from the child, a fact she was sure Ensign Wildman appreciated. More than once the ship's sensors had to be used to hunt down the wayward Katarian, using her genetic coding. With the comm badge, that was a lot simpler "Well it is a special privilege for senior officers and only the best Captain's Assistant, especially one who behaved so well in a dangerous and frightening situation."

Naomi beamed at the praise from the captain, which caused Seven to smile as well. Janeway took the plates from their drawer beneath the replicator and handed them to the Katarian. "Do you think you can handle these?"

"Oh yes, Captain. Mommy lets me set the table all the time." Naomi took the plates and carefully walked to the table, gingerly setting them in the appropriate places. It would not do for the Captain's Assistant to chip one of the captain's dinner plates.

Seven sidled up to Janeway and spoke in a low whisper. "She is very excited."

"Yes, she is," Kathryn replied, amazed at how much life seemed to be in their quarters at the moment. Even Jake was sitting next to the table, happily taking pats on the head as Naomi walked by him.

Naomi played the little helper for Seven as well, jumping up and taking the bowl of bread sticks from the Borg before Janeway had a chance to move from her seat. Soon plates were filled and everyone was seated. Naomi looked skeptically at the food in front of her but took a small bite, then another before declaring it fit to eat. "This is most adequate," she said.

"It is nutrition that Kathryn appreciates, since her mother made it when she was growing up."

"You mean when she was a little girl?" Naomi looked at the captain, clearly not able to envision her as a child. Janeway squirmed under the look and poked her fork at her food.

"It's called Hungarian Goulash," Janeway said. "It's very good, Annika."

"Why does the captain get to call you Annika?" Naomi asked, putting another bite in her mouth.

"Because that is the name my parents gave me when I was an infant," Seven said. "I prefer that most people call me Seven, but here in our quarters, Kathryn calls me Annika, just as I refer to her by her first name."

"Why?"

"Because we're married and I'm allowed to," Janeway said, not wanting the conversation to continue into the realm of pet names which she had bestowed upon the Borg at one time or another, particularly in the heat of the moment. A captain had to have some secrets.

"Is it like a special name?" Naomi persisted.

"Yes. Were you able to catch up on all your studies?" When one route did not work, try another, Janeway thought.

"Oh yes, Captain," the child said smartly. "I have been studying very hard. Seven says if we apply ourselves we can do anything."

"She's very right," Janeway said.

"Seven's very strong too," Naomi said. "She carried me lots of times when we were in the Bastardrock."

Food decided to go down the wrong chute, causing Kathryn to cough frantically. Seven was quickly behind her, thumping her back.

"Kathryn, should I call the Doctor?"

She waved Seven away with her hand and took a deep breath. "No, just went down the wrong way." She reached for her wine glass, then looked up at her wife. "Actually would you mind getting me a glass of water?"

"Are you all right, Captain?" Naomi asked worriedly.

"I'm fine, Miss Wildman," Kathryn said, patting the child's hand. "Is that what you call the mine shaft you were trapped in?"

"Yes, Seven named it."

"Apparently." She shot a look at her wife who simply smiled back and handed Janeway the glass of chilled water. The captain was uncomfortably aware of where Seven must have picked up the term to describe the tunnels they had been in.

"It was a most physically challenging experience," Seven said as she returned to her seat. "I do not believe my body was intended to be abused in such a manner."

"I didn't mean to kick you," Naomi said apologetically. "Mommy says I move more in my sleep than I do when I'm awake."

"It was all right," Seven assured. "I am used to it." She gave Janeway a fond smile, causing the captain to stare intently at her meal to hide her blush.

"It sounds like quite an adventure," Kathryn mumbled.

"It was," Naomi agreed. "Seven and I talked a lot about all sorts of things." She turned to Seven. "Mommy is with Neelix right now."

Janeway's eyes widened, not at all sure she wanted to know where this conversation was heading.

"That is where the ship's sensors found her," Seven agreed blandly.

"I think they're having a special dinner."

"Indeed?" Seven, who obviously knew what was going on, casually took a sip of her wine. "And did you talk to your mother?"

"Not the first night after we got home, because she was too busy hugging me and crying like you said she would."

Janeway looked at her wife and offered a shy smile, knowing that was exactly what she had done once Seven was back in her arms.

"But you did speak to her?" Seven asked.

Naomi nodded. "She said they aren't copulating."

This time it was the wine which refused to go down the right tube, and Janeway decided to give up any plans on dinner since it most likely would end up with her choking to death.

"I think I've had enough," she said, rising to her feet.

Seven tried not to look disappointed at the amount of food remaining on Kathryn's plate. It was rare Janeway failed to finish a dinner prepared by Seven. Naomi apparently decided dinner was over as well, standing up and collecting her dishes as well. Seven took a few more quick bites and put a stasis lid on the remaining food. If Kathryn would not eat her dinner then it would become lunch tomorrow. Jake obligingly moved off the couch as they approached, allowing Seven and Janeway to sit down while Naomi took the chair, her legs dangling above the floor.

"If you take your shoes off, you may put your feet up," Seven told her.

"Would you like the footstool, Miss Wildman?" Janeway asked, seeing it nestled under the coffee table.

"That would be acceptable, Captain," Naomi said. "Susan lets me put my feet up on the couch when I stay with her."

"Susan?"

"Ensign Nicoletti," Seven explained. "Naomi stays with her from time to time."

"Oh." Janeway knew she didn't want to ask why. "My mother had a fit when I put my feet up on the furniture," she revealed. "Of course I was usually wearing boots covered in dust from the farm."

"Yes, you grew up on an agricultural collective," Naomi said. "Your family are Traditionalists."

"Yes, they are."

"My great grandmother was a traditionalist," Naomi said, scooting back in the chair and sitting cross legged. "Mommy showed me pictures of them. Do you have pictures of your family?"

"Uh, yes I do," Kathryn said cautiously.

"Would you like to see them?" Seven offered. "I have organized them according to date. It was much more efficient than Kathryn's attempt at sorting them."

"All I had to do was call up the general file and flip through them until I found the one I wanted," Janeway protested. "It didn't take that long."

"You spent seven point six minutes looking for the picture of Phoebe I wanted. I can now find it in less that one point three seconds."

"Well then it's a good thing I keep you around, isn't it?" Janeway teased, rising to her feet. "I'll get the padd. What time do you have to be back at your quarters, Naomi?"

"2100 hours is my bedtime," the young girl said. "What time is your bedtime?"

"Captains don't have bedtimes."

"However, if the captain does not get sufficient sleep, she is very much like you are in the morning," Seven said, taking the padd from Janeway.

"I take it young Miss Wildman doesn't like to get up in the morning?" Kathryn said as she resumed her seat.

"She is second only to B'Elanna in terms of waking up in a foul mood." Seven pressed a few buttons on the padd and handed it to Naomi. "There is Kathryn with her sister, Phoebe. Kathryn is the one pulling Phoebe's hair."

Naomi got out of her seat and sat down on the cushion Janeway had vacated, the child now sitting next to Seven. "Show me another one."

"We do not have many," Seven said, pressing the button to change the picture. "Kathryn only had a few, and Phoebe may send only three images at a time." She pointed at a brightly colored print on the wall. "That is an image of a painting that Phoebe has done."

Kathryn walked over to the replicator and programmed a whiskey and soda for herself, and two ice cream floats which were happily accepted by Seven and Naomi. Janeway settled into the chair, smiling when Jake ambled over and rested his head on her leg. Looking around, she noticed just how homey the scene was. Naomi was practically on Seven's lap, the two of them happily looking through the images on the padd and enjoying their dessert. It struck her, as it always did when they were babysitting Harry Jr., how Seven's face took on a glow that simply was not present any other time. Someday, Annika, she promised. A devious thought entered her mind. Could she get away with it? Did she dare? "While you two are looking at the images, I'm going to take Jake for a walk."

"That would be a good idea," Seven remarked, looking up. "He requires more exercise now than when he was a puppy."

Janeway practically jumped from her seat. "Well then, a nice long walk around the ship is in order. Where's your leash, Jake?"

Epilogue

Janeway carefully lit the thin cigarillo between her teeth and leaned back comfortably in her seat, shaking the match to extinguish the tiny flame. She was currently cloistered in the cockpit of her Captain's Yacht, a vessel which had not even left Voyager in the entire time the ship had been commissioned because of its lack of weaponry, shields and warp capacity. It was easier to rebuild a shuttle than it was to upgrade this little planet-hopper designed for diplomatic displays, and most people had forgotten that it even existed, tucked snugly beneath the saucer section of the ship.

For her, it was her new haven away from Voyager and a sanctuary that hopefully no one knew about ... including her wife. Janeway had spent more than a few enjoyable hours down here in the past few weeks while she was supposed to be taking Jake on his nightly walk, having transferred all her illicit smokesticks to the various compartments scattered about the vessel.

With a deep sigh of smug achievement, she put her booted feet up on the navigational array and inhaled happily, drawing the smoke deep into her lungs. She wasn't sure why she enjoyed the sensation so much, but it was something that she found she almost needed as time passed by, looking forward to this quiet hour after dinner with a longing that would have been disturbing if she had let herself really think about it. The best part was that no one would ever know, particularly Seven. Along with a replicator, there was a fully equipped head at the rear of the vessel,  enabling the captain to replace her smoky clothes and take a shower before she returned to her quarters. The fire suppressants had been disengaged the first night she had decided to do this, and at the moment, the lights were lowered to a comfortable level, making a cozy atmosphere within the tiny control center as music played softly from the speakers, a jazzy tune which evoked hot nights in New Orleans. All that was missing was a nice glass of brandy and when she had finished this cigarillo, she was going to rectify that before smoking her second.

Curled up on the floor, Jake sneezed and shook his head as the blue tendrils of smoke reached him, offering her a bit of a disgusted look. She made a face at him and sucked deeply on the tube, smiling happily as the smoke slowly escaped from her nose. She took another puff, pursing her lips to allow the smoke to escape in a shimmering, round ring. It was absolutely perfect.

Her eyes, slitted with pleasure, flew open as the door to the tiny hangar opened and Seven of Nine strolled in.

The Borg regarded her through the yacht's viewports, linking her hands behind her back as she lowered her head, an somewhat obscure expression on her face that Janeway could not identify as she desperately attempted to formulate some kind of explanation.

Seven did not give her the time.

"This is unacceptable behavior, Kathryn," she said firmly, her voice echoing in the room. "And one, that for your own good, I simply cannot tolerate."

A quirk of Seven's cranial implant was all the warning Janeway had before the fire suppressants, which she thought she had turned off, activated in the cockpit. How Seven had managed it, the captain doubted she would ever know and in the meantime, she wasn't able to think about it as a thick, white, very chilly foam began to shoot from several nozzles situated randomly around the vessel. The first wave completely doused the small ember at the end of her smokestick, and the captain, who choked, sputtered and otherwise flailed around in the mass filling up around her, found that her outrage was being similarily extinguished. In space, fires were nothing to take lightly and the sensors were designed to make sure any hint of it was put out as quickly and as thoroughly as possible, even as the properties of the foam protected delicate equipment and retained enough oxygen to allow anyone trapped in the area to breath. Jake yelped, deciding he had quite enough of this and scurried for the hatch which had been left half open, shaking vigorously to get the foam out of his long, red hair. He skidded to a stop in front of Seven and looked mournfully up at her, trying to convey that he had absolutely nothing to do with this particular incident at all.

When the sensor finally detected no more hint of spark, the spewing of the foam ceased and the ventilation system began to suck it out as it dissolved into a fine, greasy mist which left the interior fixtures shining and Janeway completely soaked. She stood in the middle of the cockpit, her hair plastered flat to her head and glared at her partner through the transparency of the viewport.

Seven merely raised her head with an expression of abject satisfaction, smiled faintly, and with a gesture to their dog who had quite enough of his other mistress, the pair turned and left the yacht hangar.

Totally and completely defeated, Janeway spat out the drooping remains of her cigarillo, and had the very uncomfortable feeling that, while she was the ultimate Starfleet influence in the rest of the Delta Quadrant, Seven had grabbed the sovereignty in the marriage. The captain just couldn't quite figure out when the transition of power had occurred. Around her feet, the remains of the rest of her cigarillos had been forced out of their various hiding places and lay strewn about the deck like corpses after a devastating battle, with no one to mourn them but a captain who was beginning to wonder if perhaps her sense of loss was a little too strong for what should be basically a desire to light up now and again. There was a craving growing within her that she had not expected as she realized all the smokesticks were now gone.

It would be something to consider ... once she had cooled off. Right now she was furious, yet without any kind of outlet. She honestly didn't think she should really attempt to argue with Seven in the manner she wanted to since the Borg would probably just hold her upside down over the nearest catwalk until the tantrum had burned itself out. It was bad enough for a chief engineer to be treated with such public disregard. For the captain ... well, she had enough private problems just with trying to figure out how to deal with her newly authoritative spouse.

Where would they go from here?

The End

•  This is the 33rd installment in the Just Between series.

• The title was provided by Silk and it's possible the story does not live up to such a provocative one.

• It was posted on March 4th, 2000.

Just Between Fears
G. L. Dartt

Seven woke abruptly, cold and shaking. Beside her, her spouse of a year, less one day was awakened by the Borg's abrupt rise into a sitting position, and quickly sat up herself. Captain Kathryn Janeway was a compact woman with auburn hair and marvelous blue-grey eyes, radiating a command presence like a desert rock gave off heat, even though she was vulnerably naked beneath twisted sheets, her gaze muddled, her hair mussed from sleep.

"Annika?" Utilizing her partner's Human designation, Janeway's voice was a throaty trill that caressed the young woman's ears, and despite herself, Seven felt a perceptible calmness seep through her just from hearing it. The captain put her right palm on the small of Seven's back, its warmth penetrating the Borg's flesh to chase away some of her internal chill.

"I ... it was a dream, I think," Seven said, looking oddly at her hands. To her surprise, they were trembling and she balled them into fists to make them stop.

"More like a nightmare, I'd say," Janeway said softly as she carefully reached over and covered Seven's left fist with gentle fingers, urging the young woman to loosen her grasp, undoubtedly because she did not want the Borg mesh to cut into the organic flesh. Seven slowly relaxed her implant so that it could be enfolded by Janeway's own hand, the tender grasp cradling the Borg appendage. "Can you remember what it was about?"

"I cannot," Seven remarked after a few moments of thought. "The images are fleeting, disjointed ... I only know how they made me feel."

"How is that?" Janeway invited.

"Frightened," Seven admitted. She hesitated. "Very frightened." She paused and glanced at her partner. "I do not become frightened easily, Kathryn."

"I know," Janeway said gently. She slipped her right arm completely around Seven's waist and hugged her comfortingly. "Darling, it was a dream and dreams are our mind's way of clearing out all the disturbances in our subconscious. After all you've been through in the past few months, this is something that perhaps should be expected ... and it is hardly the first time you've had nightmares."

Seven inhaled deeply, allowing herself to be reassured by her partner's words. "No, it is not," she agreed. "Perhaps you are correct." She lay back down in the bed and Janeway snuggled up next to her, draping her arm protectively over the Borg's torso. "What time is it?"

The captain glanced up at the chronometer. "0015," she said. "Plenty of time for you to go back to sleep."

"Yes," Seven agreed and tried to relax as Janeway assisted, her hand rubbing slow, soothing circles over her partner's abdomen. Seven exhaled slowly, allowing the caress to ease her tension, the familiar sounds of the warp engines and soft respiration of her partner a balm in the night to her jangled nerves. Warmth seeped through her as the captain nestled her head on the Borg's shoulder, and long moments passed as Seven attempted to resume her interrupted slumber. Yet, the fear continued to linger in her thoughts and kept the peacefulness of sleep beyond her grasp.

"Still awake, darling?" Janeway murmured finally, long after Seven had thought the captain had surrendered to her own drowsiness.

Seven sighed. "I am sorry, Kathryn," she said. "I do not wish to disturb you."

"You're not," Janeway told her, pausing to yawn. "I just can't seem to settle my own thoughts now that I'm awake."

"What are you thinking about, my Kathryn?" Seven asked, pulling the woman closer to her.

Janeway made a soft, rueful sound in her throat. "The last batch of documents that came in from Starfleet Command," she said, referring to the communication packet which was now being sent to them on a regular monthly basis from the Alpha Quadrant. The second one had just arrived the previous day, and along with personal messages, including a letter from Kathryn's mother to Seven, the astrometrics officer knew that there had also been a great many official files which had been for the captain's eyes only.

"Can you tell me about them?" Seven asked, not pressing but simply offering to listen to whatever Janeway might want to share.

"Not the specifics," Janeway said. "But I can tell you that the Dominion War had a big impact on the Federation and Starfleet. I'm just beginning to understand how much by sifting through the new regulations and protocols which have been installed, along with the tactical data I've received."

"The Federation was not conquered by the Dominion," Seven noted.

"I know, but the victory came at a great cost, darling," Janeway responded sadly. "Some of the things I've been reading are horrifying in their implication. The only good thing that I've managed to conclude is that I probably don't have to worry too much about the future of our Maquis here on Voyager. With Starfleet being in the state it's in, they're going to be extremely grateful for experienced bodies to fill the holes should any of the Maquis members wish to accept official commissions."

"So the Maquis have been pardoned?" Seven asked curiously.

"Not yet," Janeway told her. "But I'm working on making it official and with any luck, I'll have those documents in my hands before too long. It would be nice for Chakotay and the others to know that an arrest and trial are not hanging over their heads should we return suddenly to the Alpha Quadrant."

Seven thought about that, idly tracing Janeway's forearm with her fingertips. "Kathryn, do you feel it is truly a possibility?" she asked softly. "Our imminent return?"

Janeway sighed a little. "I try to look at it realistically," she admitted. "But yes, there's a part of me that thinks now that we're in contact, it's merely a matter of things falling into place for us to return home within the next year."

Seven nodded, though she knew Janeway couldn't see that from how she was angled. "I received another letter," she offered quietly. "One I have not told you about yet. You have been so busy with the rest of the communiqué that I did not wish to share it until you had time to discuss it with me."

"From Phoebe?" Janeway responded, raising her head to regard the Borg in the starlight shimmering through the window above their heads. "I knew you had received one from Mother but..."

"No," Seven interrupted. "It was not from anyone I know personally. It came from a scientist who had read about our work on the slipstream drive and wished to correspond with me regarding it."

"Who is this scientist?" Janeway queried, frowning slightly.

"Dr. Brahms," Seven said.

"Brahms?" Janeway echoed, her tone rising slightly. "Dr. Leah Brahms? Of the Theoretical Propulsion Group?"

"I do not know, Kathryn," Seven said, slightly taken aback by her partner's response. "She merely indicated that she was intrigued by the findings we had made here on Voyager and wondered if I would be agreeable to sharing data with her as she would with me as she works on her current transwarp project."

"Oh, Annika," Janeway said, obviously excited by this development, "Leah Brahms is one of the Federation's most highly regarded scientists in the field of starship propulsion. If she's currently working on some kind of slipstream drive there, it will considerably increase our chances of having a breakthrough."

"You believe that I should correspond with her?" Seven asked.

"Definitely," Janeway said. "Not all the best scientists are in Starfleet, you know, and to have civilian researchers also tackling the project can only help us tremendously."

Seven nodded. "Then I shall formulate a reply to her immediately," she said. With the latest communiqué, Janeway had seemed to have had a great deal on her mind regarding the Federation and Starfleet ... so much so that Seven had been reluctant to bring what had seemed inconsequential information to her attention. Apparently she had been incorrect in that assessment, however and she was glad she had decided to share it with her now. Squeezing the captain lovingly, she brushed her lips over the smooth forehead.

"In regards to the other letters from the Federation, you never told me what Phoebe wrote to you," she added softly. "We did not have a chance to read them to each other this time, as we did the last."

Janeway chuckled briefly. "Things have been a bit hectic since yesterday," she agreed. "Phoebe just wrote her usual missive ... information about her personal life interspersed with completely inappropriate comments about mine. The same old thing and I loved every word of it. If you'd like, I'll download it into your workstation so you can read it for yourself."

"Thank you," Seven said. "I would appreciate that and I will download Gretchen's into yours. She indicated that she was quite pleased that you are now so open and vulnerable with her. She seems to think I had a direct influence on that."

"You have," Janeway told her, raising her face to kiss Seven's jaw. "You should already know that, love."

Seven felt a warm spurt of pleasure go through her. "I had suspected," she admitted. "But was not entirely sure."

"You can be sure, now," Janeway told her with a smile and settled back against Seven's side, her hand resuming her circular caresses on her partner's stomach, though it seemed a bit different now ... more sensual, lingering on the Borg's skin as she traced delicate lines over her abdomen. "Darling, are you so very sleepy?"

Seven smiled faintly into the darkness. "Why do you ask?" she responded evenly.

Janeway nuzzled into the Borg's neck. "I was just thinking that since we are awake anyway...." she offered slyly.

"That we could find ways to occupy ourselves other than attempting to go back to sleep?" Seven finished for her. She raised an eyebrow. "Is that an efficient way to prepare for our duty-shift which will occur in approximately five hours?"

Janeway stretched against Seven's side, pressing her entire length against the Borg's lanky form. "I don't know how 'efficient' it would be," she admitted huskily in Seven's ear, emphasizing it with a flick of her tongue over the lobe. "But I do think it would be loads of fun, and I know how important you think our having fun is."

"Ah, so this is for my benefit," Seven responded dryly. "I am touched by your concern."

Janeway laughed. "You're developing quite a sarcastic streak," she noted as she flicked Seven's nipple lightly with her thumb. "Maybe I'd better not give you Phoebe's letter. You'll just pick up pointers from her."

"I suspect I will have to, simply to hold my own with you," Seven noted as she pulled her spouse close to her. She kissed her, a light, fleeting taste, which nonetheless, indicated a definite promise of more and lengthier ones in the near future. "Are you aware of what the day after tomorrow is, Kathryn?"

"Your birthday?" Janeway replied, wrapping her arms warmly around Seven's neck. "My birthday? Jake's birthday?"

"None of those choices," Seven noted, not entirely sure at this point if Janeway was continuing to tease her or not. Janeway's tone indicated that she was, but on the other hand, remembering specific dates, even special ones, was not the captain's strongest suit. "It is the first night of Prixin."

"Ah, and you want to know what I'm wearing to the celebration in the messhall," Janeway prodded.

Seven ran her hands down her spouse's back, tracing the spine lightly. "That is not what I wish to know," Seven told her primly.

"You want to tell me what you are wearing to the celebration in the messhall?" Janeway guessed brightly, as Seven cupped the captain's buttocks, squeezing them firmly.

"I do not wish to go to the celebration," Seven remarked, slipping her right hand down to the captain's thigh and pulling it up onto her hip, increasing her access and making Janeway hum in the back of her throat. "Not in the messhall."

Janeway's smile widened. "Oh, but we have to go, darling," she told her, pressing closer as she kissed Seven's neck. Her fingers trailed lightly over Seven's breasts, stroking the nipples with delicate promise. "It's expected of me as the captain and you are the captain's spouse. We have to make an appearance, at least."

"I am aware of that," Seven said, feeling her respiration increase as pleasure rippled through her. "I have been your spouse for some time now. But for that day, I wish to be elsewhere."

She was getting stubborn now. If Janeway refused to specify what they were discussing, then she was certainly not going to either. Janeway obviously understood that and was being just as deliberate in her own avoidance of being pinned down to specifics. The fact that their hands were doing wonderful things to each other as they verbally danced was almost incidental.

Almost.

Seven gasped as Janeway tickled a particularly sensitive area. "Kathryn?"

"Yes, darling?"

"You do know what the day after tomorrow is?"

"Oh yes, my love," the captain assured her, the tone suddenly very tender and warm. "I know exactly what it is. But can we discuss it a little later?"

"Very well," Seven muttered happily.

Later would be just fine with her.

Janeway opened her eyes in the dim illumination prior to morning watch and stifled a soft sigh. She was lying on her side, angled almost onto her belly with her right knee drawn up and the other leg stretched out toward the bottom of the bed. Pressed warmly against her back, her own leg tucked up beneath the captain's, Seven breathed deeply, her arm wrapped snugly around Janeway's chest, their hands entwined where they nestled against the smaller woman's heart. Janeway didn't know if Seven was awake yet or not, but she did know that she absolutely did not want to move ... it was far too warm and comfortable and pleasant in this safe embrace of her partner, and the thought of having to leave this wonderful spot was anathema to her.

After a moment, she felt Seven shift slightly, a deeper inhalation as she pressed closer to the captain. Lips gently traced Janeway's ear, nuzzling it softly, and the captain squeezed the hand in her grasp gently.

"Mmm, good morning, darling," Janeway said softly.

"Good morning, my Kathryn," Seven murmured, kissing a tender line along the captain's neck.

Janeway felt a sliver of pleasure ripple through her and she groaned, but not entirely from the sensation. Rather, there was distinct note of frustration underlying it. "Oh, love, we can't right now. In fact, the computer is going to remind us that we have to get up very soon."

"I can be very quick," Seven whispered, running her hand down the length of Janeway's torso, sliding over her breast and nipple which hardened instantly, down the captain's ribs and belly, then over her hip and along her buttock.

"Oh, you can?" Janeway said with a mixture of amusement and dismay as Seven continued to stroke her lavishly. "'Quick' to you means it will be over in one hour rather than two. Unfortunately, I just don't have an hour to spare this morning, as much as I would love to. I have too much waiting on the desk in my ready room."

"You underestimate me, Kathryn," Seven breathed into her ear, and Janeway was startled as she felt Seven's fingers touching her intimately from behind, dabbling into the gathering moisture to spread it over the achingly sensitive nub.

"Annika!"

"Shh, Kathryn," Seven muttered. "It will not take long."

Janeway shuddered. Perhaps it would not take that much time after all, she thought, as her need rose delicious and strong within her. "What about you?" she whispered, unable to resist the delight surging through her. "I don't want to leave you without."

"You will not," Seven told her with assurance as her fingers fondled Janeway insistently. "I will take my pleasure at leisure tonight, after our shifts. But I am aware that you always appreciate an early 'wake up call'."

"You're too good to me, love," Janeway mumbled, then groaned again, feeling the tender penetration of her partner, the wonderful touch pressing insistently and directly on that spot inside her that immediately made her cry out. Spasms shook her, then it was over and she gasped for breath, just as the computer noted in dispassionate tones that the time was now 0600 hours.

Janeway felt boneless, too sated to move. "I don't think the 'wake up' part worked very well," she mumbled. "I want to stay right where I am ... more than ever, now."

Seven kissed Janeway's cheek, then bent over her and managed to kiss her mouth. "Shall I carry you into the shower?" she asked with a faint smile.

Janeway forced herself to stir. "No," she said. "That's perfectly all right." She was well aware that Seven's idea of helping her wake up in the shower meant turning the water on cold and dumping her partner under it. The captain much preferred the 'bed' version of the Borg's wake up call. "I'm up, now."

Seven eased away from her and rolled out of the bed, taking a moment to stretch luxuriously as was now her habit in the morning. Janeway knew if she didn't soon follow, the Borg's next move would be to swoop down on her and pick her up in her arms. However, the captain did take a moment to appreciate the sight before slipping from between the covers and padding naked into the ensuite. Seven joined her in the shower where the couple actually managed to limit themselves to cleaning themselves before getting out to towel off. Janeway pulled on her uniform which had been waiting for her, neatly folded on the sink counter, as Seven retrieved her blue and grey outfit from the closet. The captain met her partner's pale eyes in the mirror while Seven was putting up her hair.

"You seem in good spirits this morning, darling," Janeway said with a fond smile. "I guess the nightmare didn't stay with you, after all."

Seven sealed her outfit at the back of her neck, then moved behind the captain and rested her hands lightly on Janeway's shoulders as she regarded their reflections in the large glass.

"Apparently, your 'cure' was most effective," the Borg said with a faint smile. "Once we made love, all the lingering fear disappeared."

Janeway returned the smile, looking a bit smug. "I'm glad I could help, darling," she said. She reached up and put her hands on Seven's, her face sobering slightly. "I hope you know I was teasing you last night, when it seemed as if I wasn't considering tomorrow as anything significant. Honestly, it's a day that means more to me than mere words can convey."

"I know, Kathryn," Seven said, her pale eyes sparkling, and Janeway saw the flash of teeth appear between her full lips. "I am glad, however, that we are taking the next two days as an off-duty rotation. I will enjoy spending some personal time with you."

Janeway turned around so that she could look up into Seven's face, feeling the Borg's arms slide lovingly about her as she put her own around her partner's slender waist. "We really do have to show up at the Prixin party tomorrow night," the captain reminded her spouse. "But I promise, the rest of the time, I'm all yours, love."

"I cannot think of a better anniversary gift," Seven whispered, just before covering the captain's mouth with her own. The kiss went on endlessly, and Janeway finally had to break the contact herself.

"Mmm, darling," she murmured, "any more of those and I may have to change our off-duty rotation to start today."

Seven smiled and nuzzled her briefly. "Tempting," she agreed, "but tomorrow will be better." She hugged her again, then released her. "I must make breakfast. Do you have a preference?"

Janeway kept her arm firmly around her partner's waist as they strolled out through the bedroom and into the living area. The couple's Irish Setter, Jake, bounded over to greet them, his tail wagging and the captain paused to pat his head. "What about those little egg and spinach things?" she suggested.

"The baby quiches I made last night?" Seven responded as she went on without her partner. She quirked an eyebrow as she glanced back over her shoulder. "For breakfast?"

"We do have some left over from last night, correct?" Janeway said, giving Jake a few, final thumps to his ribs. "No point in wasting them."

"I had no intention of wasting them," Seven remarked as she retrieved a stasis covered plate from beneath the kitchenette counter, popping the little tarts into the heating unit. "I had thought that you would prefer them for lunch, however."

Janeway proceeded to set the table with plates, cutlery and the various extras like salt, pepper, butter and a pitcher of juice. "I'm afraid I'll be a little busy today," she said. "I doubt I'll be able to make it back here for lunch." She paused suddenly, interrupting her motion of placing a plate on the table.

"Kathryn?"

Seven eyed her with mild concern from behind the counter and Janeway shook her head, smiling faintly as she forced herself to get back to her task.

"It's nothing darling," she explained, turning around to smile at her partner. "It just occurred to me how very ... domestic we've become in the past year."

Seven removed the quiches from the oven and carried them over to the table.

"That bothers you?" the Borg asked as the couple sat down.

"Not at all," Janeway said as she scooped three of the hot tarts onto her plate, shaking her fingers at the brief burn. "It just amazes me how much ... I enjoy it. Especially since this kind of routine always bored me senseless in the Alpha Quadrant. I couldn't wait to get my day started and frequently skipped breakfast altogether, particularly when I was younger and lived in San Francisco. Now, this regular routine of dressing and eating in the morning, where you and I can just ... I don't know, exist as normal people ... are perfect moments of pure happiness to me."

Seven used her fork to slice off a bite of the tart. "Perhaps it is because our lives are so otherwise ... unsettled," she noted reasonably. "I suspect that if our work was not on a starship lost in the Delta Quadrant, or if we did not experience so many opportunities to be routinely slaughtered in the course of our day, this domestic routine would still bore you."

Janeway swallowed a mouthful of orange juice, then laughed briefly. "Maybe, you have a point," she allowed. She took a bite of her quiche, lingering over the delicious combination of egg, spinach, and flaky pastry shell as it melted in her mouth. "Living on the edge tends to make times like these precious in a way that perhaps other people don't have an opportunity to appreciate."

Contemplating that suggestion lightened Seven's already pale eyes. "Perhaps when we return to the Alpha Quadrant, where our lives could possibly be more placid, you will cease to enjoy sharing breakfast with me," she noted.

"Not a chance," Janeway said firmly.

"I shall be sure to remind you of that," Seven noted dryly. "In the event that you are incorrect in your assessment."

Janeway reached over with her foot and nudged Seven's under the table. "Don't you believe me?" she asked, a trifle wistfully.

Seven chewed her quiche thoughtfully. "When we return to the Alpha Quadrant," she said after she had swallowed, "you will probably be caught up in completely new and different projects, be it a new ship, or a new position or simply working out how you will respond to active duty with Starfleet once more. When that happens, you will forget to take pleasure in these moments, or speed through them to tackle your day as you did early in our relationship." She picked up her glass and sipped her juice, regarding her partner indulgently. "That is acceptable to me, Kathryn. I will not try to hold you back or make you into something you are not. However, there will be times that I will insist that you stop and smell the coffee."

"The flowers," Janeway said, torn between amusement and a little sadness with the acknowledgment that her partner was probably right about how she would be.

Seven looked confused. "Flowers?"

"The saying is 'stop and smell the flowers'," Janeway corrected.

Seven frowned. "We do not have any flowers with breakfast," she pointed out. "You have coffee."

Janeway started to explain, realized it would probably take longer than the rest of their meal to do so and smiled instead. "You're absolutely right," she said. "I'll hold you to that promise, darling. Make me stop and smell the coffee every so often. Speaking of which..." She held up her empty mug, waggling it slightly, and Seven shot her another indulgent glance before getting up to retrieve the fresh pot from the coffee maker. She poured the deep, dark liquid into the captain's cup and the remainder into a silver thermos placed on the counter for just that purpose.

"However, I would point out, darling," Janeway added, after she savored her first sip of the fragrant brew, "that you try to change me all the time."

Seven blinked. "I do not," she objected with mild outrage. She paused, apparently thinking about why her partner might make such a charge. "I merely do not allow you to indulge in habits which are not good for you. That is not changing you, that is..." She hesitated, searching for the word, "... 'channeling' you onto more beneficial pathways."

"Ah," Janeway said, in too good a mood to pursue it at the moment. "I'll keep that in mind ... the next time you're trying to 'channel' me."

Seven shot her an unfathomable look and Janeway chuckled as she picked up the padd placed earlier on the table, checking over the downloaded ship's logs while she sipped her coffee. In the meantime, Seven took the opportunity to clear away the rest of the dirty dishes and generally clean the area before she went into the ensuite to finish up her morning ablutions. Janeway smiled when the Borg came out and deposited a kiss on the back of the captain's neck. She reached up to capture the hand Seven had placed lightly on her shoulder, using her grasp to pull Seven down to where she could look into her partner's curious expression.

"'Channel' a better good-bye kiss than that, my way," she instructed and Seven responded with a brief smile and a much more intense kiss that seemed to fill the Starfleet officer with her devotion. "Have a good day, darling," she muttered when they finally parted.

"I shall," Seven promised, giving the captain's hand a final squeeze before she left their quarters.

Janeway took a little longer to finish, lingering over her coffee and the previous night's reports, then completed her own morning routine before heading for the turbolift. Her thoughts were intent on the day ahead of her, what tasks awaited her attention and all the paperwork she wanted to have completed in order to take the next two days off. If she worked through lunch, she would probably be able to finish even the departmental reports before the end of her duty shift, and as she waited for the lift to arrive at the bridge, she impatiently shifted the silver thermos until it was tucked neatly under her arm.

The cylinder actually impacted on the deck before her body did as the Terror slammed down on her like a tsunami ... but it was a close race.

The breath rasped in Janeway's lungs as she cowered in the corner of the lift, curled up in the fetal position as the sheer, unrelenting fear gripped her with cruel claws. Dimly she was aware of the turbolift coming to a stop, the doors sliding open to reveal the bridge and a senior staff who did not, at first, realize what was happening. It was Harry Kim who finally left his ops post to see what was holding the lift, and his cry to Commander Chakotay sounded not a little panicked, barely penetrating the roaring of the captain's pulse in her ears.

Then, just as suddenly as it had struck, it was gone, and Janeway had only the lingering memory of the soul-deep fear which had so completely possessed her.

"Captain?" Chakotay's dark, handsome features were concerned as he stood in the entrance of the turbolift, looking down at her. He reached out his hand and uncertainly, she accepted it, using her first officer's solid, burly strength to lift her back to her feet.

"I don't know," she said before he could ask.

Her voice was husky, forced past a throat that felt parched, undoubtedly from when she had been gasping desperately for breath. Stepping out onto the bridge, she was aware of Tuvok, her security chief, regarding her with as much concern as his impassive Vulcan features would allow, while at the helm, Lt. Tom Paris had turned halfway around to stare at his captain searchingly. Harry had returned to his station and looked considerably disturbed as he glanced at her. She faltered briefly as she descended the stairs and had to rest her hand briefly on the rail before resuming her course to the command level.

"No one else felt anything out of the ordinary, I assume," she said, somewhat weakly as she sank into her captain's chair.

Chakotay carefully placed the thermos he had retrieved from the floor of the turbolift on the console between Janeway's chair and his own, but he did not question what she was saying ... he simply looked over at Tuvok.

"Run an internal scan, see if anything abnormal occurred in the past ten minutes," he ordered.

He sat down beside the captain and stared at her, the tattoo arching over his left brow crinkling as he frowned. "Can you elaborate a little, Captain?" he prodded gently.

Janeway noted that her heart was still pounding in her chest, as if she had run a marathon, only now starting to slow, and her hands were unpleasantly moist. She inhaled deeply, gathering together her scattered wits as she wiped her hands unobtrusively on her trousers. "It was ... a sensation of total and complete fear," she explained, taking the time to choose her words carefully, with as much scientific detachment as she was able to muster. "I wasn't able to think or control myself at all. I simply wanted to hide, to crawl into a hole and never come out. I don't even remember falling."

"Internal scans detect no abnormal readings," Tuvok noted then. He lifted his head, raising an eyebrow as he looked toward the command level from his tactical station. "Long range sensors also reveal no indication of a ship or spatial anomaly."

"Check with sickbay," Chakotay said over his shoulder, glancing at Kim. Harry leaped to obey, keying in the necessary commands to his console.

"Sickbay has no reports of a similar incident," he said after a moment and Janeway felt a certain amount of distress. She knew what she had experienced in the turbolift, but she had the irrational feeling that her crew would stop believing her with no corroborating evidence.

"Run another check with the internal sensors," Chakotay instructed Harry. "Inform the Doctor to alert us if any reports involving a sudden, irrational terror occur, and also put out a general memo to the crew that any member experiencing an attack of any kind of debilitating emotion is to report immediately to sickbay."

He glanced over at Janeway and she realized what he had just done. She certainly could not demand her crew follow orders that she openly disdained. She narrowed her eyes, but rose gracefully from her chair and headed for the turbolift. Quietly, an ensign from the science station joined her, prodded by a gesture of Chakotay's head, and Janeway forced herself not to argue with her first officer about it. After all, the Terror could strike again, and it would be remiss of her to object to having someone be there to help. She didn't much like the hand on her elbow, however, as if she were too feeble to walk, and she offered the young crewman a searing glance that made the ensign snatch his hand back as if it had been burned.

"Let the Doctor know I'm on my way," she said, but she still glared daggers at Chakotay who had the grace to look slightly repentant as the doors closed on her view of him.

Fortunately, as the young man escorted her to deck five and sickbay, there was no recurrence of the Terror which had so crippled her.

There is no such thing as secrecy on a starship in Voyager's position. Within ten minutes of Janeway entering sickbay, Seven had turned astrometrics over to Jennifer Delaney and was on her way to the medical center. The Borg didn't know why Janeway was in sickbay exactly ... just that something had happened on the bridge and that Chakotay sent the captain there. However, the lower deck scuttlebutt about Janeway collapsing was more than enough to alarm Seven considerably. As she rushed through the corridors, she could not help but be reminded of another time her partner had been sent to sickbay by Chakotay ... and of seeing her partner wake up with no recognition at all in her eyes for a devastated Seven of Nine.

Heart in her throat, she lunged through the sickbay doors which barely opened in time before her concerned rush, and she swept the expanse of the medical center with a single, laser-like gaze. Janeway glanced up from where she was sitting on a biobed, and her eyes widened as she saw the expression on her spouse's face. Hovering over the captain, both Sek and the Doctor cast odd looks at Seven in response to her rather abrupt appearance.

"Seven?"

Janeway's husky tone was a welcome sound to her partner and Seven inhaled deeply several times, struggling to calm her racing heart. Composing herself with an effort, she moved over to the bed.

"I ... was told that you had been sent to sickbay," Seven admitted, when she reached her partner. "I was concerned."

Janeway raised an eyebrow. "So you rushed up here to see what was wrong?" she said, not entirely pleased by such a gesture. Anger shaded her eyes to battleship grey. "Seven, you simply can't leave your post..."

"I understood it to be quite serious," Seven interrupted quietly and Janeway stopped, her face softening. "As it was when you lost your memories."

"It's not," the captain responded in a much gentler tone."Seven, you cannot accord lower deck rumors with the same credence as an official comment. Check with the bridge next time." She sighed. "There was an incident in the turbolift, but I'm fine now. I was able to make it here under my own power." She raised her head, frowning suddenly as she looked at Seven with a sudden, calculating expression. "Actually, now that I'm thinking about it, you told me that the nightmare last night left you terribly frightened. How frightened?"

"Captain?" the Doctor said, regarding the couple with a certain amount of trepidation. "Are you saying that Seven suffered a similar incident?"

Janeway raised a hand, indicating that she wanted a moment to organize her thoughts. "Seven," she explained finally, "while I was on my way to the bridge, I was overcome by a sensation of intense terror ... so strong that I couldn't even maintain my feet. Last night, you woke up out of a sound sleep and were actually trembling, something that is not characteristic of you at all. I realize that I dismissed it initially as a nightmare, but perhaps I made an error. Possibly it was something more than just a bad dream."

"You mean you believe this is an attack of some kind?" the Doctor asked, directing his medical probe at Seven as he passed it over her, raising the tricorder which was absorbing the data.

"No," Janeway responded, shaking her head. "I'm merely saying that perhaps I wasn't the only one to experience this bout of terror, but because Seven was asleep, we misidentified it as a nightmare."

Seven considered that. "I was ... extremely frightened," she admitted reluctantly to the medical staff. "I do not know what it was that frightened me, but when I woke up, I was filled with a profound terror. It was only the presence of the captain which kept me from fleeing the bed."

The Doctor frowned as he studied his tricorder. "I can detect no anomalous readings," he said to Janeway. "Beyond a slight elevation in the adrenal and hypothalamic gland. But that would be expected considering that she rushed here believing you had been injured. It is certainly not indicative of any cause of the extreme fear you described."

"Perhaps we run a history scan and check to see if this has ever been described before in the Starfleet databanks," Sek suggested. "Perhaps this is psychological in nature." The diminutive holographic Ocampa moved over to the nearest work console, her blonde head bending intently over her screen.

Not to be outdone, the Doctor also moved over to a console to make his own search of the medical databanks, leaving Seven and Janeway momentarily alone.

"Kathryn, are you all right?" Seven asked softly. "Truly?"

"I'm fine," Janeway responded in an equally low voice. "The fear seemed to dissipate as quickly as it hit and even though I was shaken afterward, that was more from the memory of it than because I was physically harmed in anyway."

Seven nodded, understanding very well how that felt after her experience the night before. "Is the memory still lingering now?"

Janeway inhaled. "A little," she admitted.

Seven smiled faintly. "Perhaps we should retire to the Doctor's office where I can prescribe the 'cure' you offered me last night?" she suggested.

Startled, Janeway looked at her, then blushed faintly, glancing somewhat nervously in the general direction of the Doctor and Sek. "Seven, we're on duty," she said, a tiny edge to her tone.

"Yes, Captain," Seven responded, inserting a faint apology in her voice though she wasn't all that sorry that she had brought up a more pleasant topic for her partner to ponder. And deep down, she knew Janeway wasn't either, judging by the warm pink suffusing her cheeks or the unconscious half-curl at the corner of her mouth.

Everyone looked up as a hail came over the communications system.

"Bridge to sickbay." Seven identified Lt. Paris's voice. "Medical emergency. Commander Chakotay is undergoing some sort of seizure. He seems terrified."

"Initiate an immediate site-to-site transport to sickbay," the Doctor said instantly.

A thin hum of the transporter sounded and the curled up form of Voyager's first officer materialized on the deck. By the time the Doctor and Sek had wrestled the terrified man up onto a biobed, the fear seemed to be easing and Chakotay gasped for breath, the whites showing about the circles of his dark eyes.

"You were right, Captain," he managed, swallowing hard. "It is intense."

"Just hang in there," Janeway assured him, trying to stay out of the way of the medical staff who had hooked the first officer up to every monitoring device they had.

The Doctor frowned, glancing back and forth from Chakotay to the captain.

"Commander, did you touch the captain when she had her attack?" he asked sharply.

"He helped me up off the floor of the turbolift," Janeway answered for him. "After it was over."

"What about anyone else?" The Doctor's tone was worried.

"Ensign Francis escorted me down to sickbay," Janeway noted, her voice tightening as she began to understand the Doctor's concern. "I don't think he touched me ... no wait, he put his hand briefly on my elbow in the turbolift."

"Sickbay to Ensign Francis," the Doctor said, slapping his comm badge. There was no reply and the chief medical officer glanced over at the captain whose eyes were deepening to a dark grey. The Borg was aware of a sudden tension in the atmosphere of the medical center. "Ensign Mark Francis, please respond." He dropped his hand and looked profoundly concerned. "I think this ... whatever it is ... is being passed on by physical contact. We need to isolate and contain it immediately."

The captain raised her head. "Sickbay to security," she said. "Tuvok, send out a team to search for Ensign Francis, but don't allow anyone to touch him. Just transport him directly to sickbay. And anyone who touched Chakotay should also report immediately to sickbay."

"Understood, Captain," Tuvok's replied evenly. "I am sending down Mr. Paris now."

"Seven, who have you been in physical contact with in the past twenty-four hours?" Sek asked of the Borg.

"Only the captain," Seven responded. She paused. "I do not encounter much opportunity for tactile contact among the crew at large."

Janeway held up her hand as the door opened and a somewhat confused Tom Paris stepped through the door. "Let's not panic here," she said coolly. "After all, this hardly seems like a particularly dangerous situation. While the Terror is unpleasant to experience, there doesn't seem to be any afteraffect."

"I don't know about that, Captain," Chakotay said, still looking a bit pale. "Consider the consequences if it struck while you were standing on the catwalk in engineering overlooking the warpcore or while you were climbing a ladder in the Jeffries tubes...."

"Good point," Janeway said. She opened her mouth to say something else but was interrupted by the hail from security.

"Tuvok to Janeway."

"Go ahead."

"Captain, we've found Mr. Francis," the Vulcan noted with a dispassion that was purely Vulcan, if jarring with his next words. "He's dead. We discovered the body in an access corridor. There does not appear to be any apparent cause of death."

Janeway's face went totally impassive but not before Seven saw the flash of despair cross the dark eyes. "Do not touch the body," the captain instructed. "We'll beam it directly to an isolation chamber. Try to find out if anyone came in physical contact with him after he left me in sickbay, and send them here as well."

The Doctor nodded. "I am instituting a level one contamination alert," he said. "As of now, we all are under quarantine, and that includes both the captain and the first officer."

"Understood," Tuvok said, accepting the shift in command to his shoulders, regardless of the fact that Janeway would undoubtedly continue to issue instructions from sickbay.

Seven stood back, out of the way, and tried hard to make sense of this. It appeared that she had somehow contracted some form of disease and then passed it on to her partner who, in turn, had passed it on to others. But how did Seven become infected in the first place? And why had Ensign Francis died when the rest of them had only experienced brief bouts of intense fear?

Her mind worked furiously as the Doctor set up his sickbay to act as a quarantine unit for the four crewmembers and then, when Francis materialized in a section he had cordoned off to act as a isolation chamber, he immediately shifted to operating whites and began an autopsy. The captain, Chakotay and Tom all gathered around the first officer's biobed, making a point of ignoring what was going on across the room, and Seven joined them uncertainly.

Sek also joined them and took a second to pat Seven on the back, obviously noting her unease. It was something that the hologram did often and the Borg realized she had never really noticed it before.  Was it possible that she was being touched by others and had never taken note?

"Seven," she said quietly. "Were you working on anything out of the ordinary yesterday? It seems that you were the first victim of ... well, whatever this is."

Seven shook her head. "No," she said unhappily. "I spent most of the morning decoding the message packet Starfleet sent to us before organizing it and transmitting it to the appropriate work stations. Various people entered and left astrometrics at that time, but I did not come in physical contact with anyone. In the afternoon, I worked on the navigational array alone, then, after my shift was over, I met with you for our regular session. After it was complete, I returned to my quarters where I spent the rest of the evening with the captain. I spoke with three people this morning, Neelix, Lt. Kim and Jennifer Delaney, but I am sure that none came close enough to touch me, nor I, them."

Janeway frowned. "We patted Jake this morning," she said. "It might be a reach, but we should probably cancel whoever has him today for his recreational time, just in case."

Seven nodded and moved over to the console, sending a memo to Ensign D'Vor that there was no need to pick Jake up for his run until further notice. The Irish Setter would not be pleased and of course, there would be no way to explain it to him, but perhaps the couple could find a way to make it up to him somehow.

As she turned to rejoin the others, it happened again and without the protective cushion of sleep, it felled the Borg in her tracks. She was only dimly aware of crashing to the floor, of both Sek and the captain kneeling next to her, of shouts and people talking outside the edges of her consciousness. Instead, there was only the Terror, the sheer panic that held her motionless on the deck as she curled up in a ball to protect her vital organs, wanting to scream and being unable to formulate even that much of a conscious effort.

She was trembling when it released her grip on her, her blood rushing through her veins, propelled by the pounding of her heart, her breath coming in sobs of air forced past a throat which seemed closed. The warmth of Janeway's hands on her shoulders slowly penetrated the icy chill that seemed to permeate every molecule of her being and she uncurled slowly, allowing Janeway to ease her into a sitting position. She opened her eyes, looking into the concerned gaze of her partner, seeing far more dark than light in the eyes of her beloved.

"Annika, are you all right?" Janeway asked.

"I am ... functioning," Seven responded, uncertainly. The hand on her shoulder squeezed gently and the young woman realized that the response had not exactly reassured her partner. Janeway knew, as well as Seven did, that when the astrometrics officer fell back onto the precise, coolly-edged tones which echoed the voice of the Borg drone she had once been, she was far from 'all right'.

"This is quite interesting," Sek said, regarding her tricorder. Apparently she had been scanning Seven constantly as she had been experiencing the Terror. "All your hormonal systems, including those that are Borg in origin, kicked into overdrive, as if you were undergoing great stress. Yet, you seemed unable to control your body, beyond cowering as if expecting to be harmed."

"I did expect to be harmed," Seven noted dryly. "Though I did not know where such harm would originate from."

"But there was no reason for it," Sek noted, frustrated. "It's as if the fear center in your brain was abruptly triggered, but there was no external source that would cause that, no indication of a mental probe or a viral infection or anything."

She was about to say more, but the doors to sickbay slid open and two security people, utilizing an antigrav cart, escorted Voyager's chief of engineering into the room. They were careful not to come in contact with the stocky young woman on the cart, and Seven wondered idly how they had managed to get her onto it without touching her. Not that B'Elanna would have objected because she was completely comatose. Seven frowned, not liking the implication. As far as Seven knew, none of the people currently in sickbay had come in physical contact with the Klingon at all this morning.

Whatever it was ... it apparently was spreading.

Lt. Ro Laren stepped onto the bridge and moved briskly across it to take the helm. Once she had piloted the USS Enterprise, but now, years later, she was content to occasionally cover the helm when Tom Paris was unavailable, finding the Intrepid-class vessel a great deal livelier to handle than the Galaxy-class flagship. Her role as Janeway's command candidate was also far more demanding than her role under Picard, but on the rare occasion, she still speculated over what her life might have been like if she had remained with his ship, rather than leaving Starfleet to join the Maquis.

Still, this was not a time for such speculation. She was considerably concerned over how bad this supposed Terror was, considering that it had forced the Doctor to isolate the captain, Chakotay, Paris and Seven in sickbay. Of course, the Bajoran knew what it was like to be frightened ... indeed, she had spent most of her early years terrified of making the wrong move or saying the wrong thing to the wrong person, but a fear so great it completely incapacitated a person? That was something she couldn't quite comprehend. No matter how great her fear, she had always found a way to control it, to channel it so that it did not stop her from functioning.

Which was why, when it struck her right there at the helm, she had a distinct sense of surprise and consternation underlying the abject terror as she slumped over the console. She tried desperately to move, to reach for a phaser, to logically define whatever was frightening her, but all she could do was whimper like a child crying out in the night. When it was over, she found it difficult to straighten, requiring a supreme effort of will not to flinch as she became aware of the other bridge staff who had surrounded her in concern, though no one had made a move to touch her.

"Lt. Ro, please report to sickbay," Tuvok said calmly from the command chair.

She resisted internally for an instant, but did not show it as she nodded shakily and stood up. She staggered a bit and Lt. Davis, who had been covering tactical, reached out a hand to support her. She jerked away quickly, as he did once he realized what he had almost done.

"Mr. Kim, take the helm," Tuvok said. "Mr. Baytart, escort Lt. Ro to deck five."

Ro took a breath and moved to the turbolift, acutely aware of the eyes from the rest of the bridge crew following her progress, filled with pity and not a little fear that they would be next. She was angered by it even as she realized how irrational it was ... how irrational it all was. Baytart carefully kept his distance from her in the lift and she supposed the real terror was the sheer unexpected nature of this, the fact that it came from nowhere and did not discriminate on whom it touched, Bajoran, Human, Borg, and ... as she discovered when she entered sickbay ... Klingon.

"B'Elanna," she said, moving over to where the engineer was being treated by the Doctor before she realized what she was doing. The captain intercepted her, forestalling her progress and drawing her over to the area where the others had already gathered. She could not help looking back over her shoulder as she went, and that was when her eye was caught by the sheet covered form in the corner.

"My god, did someone die from this?" she blurted.

"Ensign Francis," Janeway said shortly. She cast a somewhat sorrowful look in the same direction. "Apparently he had a weak heart which was kept under control with medication. Voyager's facilities have never been up to replacing a Tirellian's organ like that without a donor, so it was kept under control by constant medication. The Terror must have been too much for it ... and him. Maybe if we had been able to get to him in time, if he hadn't been alone in the corridor..." Her voice trailed off and Ro could easily identify the regret in the captain's voice, the sense of somehow being responsible for it . The Bajoran supposed that came with command ... something that she was still not entirely sure she wanted.

Ro spend a few moments explaining to Sek how many people she had come in physical contact with in the past day or so, then, the hologram moved off to discover if those crewmembers had suffered any odd occurrences, while the captain moved over to Chakotay and began to converse with him in tones too quiet for the rest to hear. That left Ro alone with Seven and Tom Paris, who regarded the Bajoran with a bit of wariness.

"Where did it hit you?" he asked, attempting to make small talk. It wasn't something Ro normally had much use for, but at the moment, she was drowning in her worry for B'Elanna, looking over at the biobed constantly. She realized she needed something ... anything ... to distract her, so she did not ignore the query as she normally would.

"On the bridge," she revealed shortly. "Just now."

"It struck me last night, in bed," Seven offered, also glancing over at her friend periodically with concern shadowing her pale eyes. Obviously she required something to divert her attention as much as Ro did. "It was initially dismissed as a nightmare but I recently underwent another incident here in sickbay."

"I haven't experienced anything yet," Paris admitted. "I'm just here because I tried to help Chakotay when he got hit, and they're worried that it's spread by physical contact."

Ro shook her head. "That can't be right," she said. "I haven't touched anyone who was attacked. Not even B'Elanna, though I did talk to her over the comm channel around midnight. She worked beta last night and I worked the gamma to cover my roommate. And what about all the other people I have touched in passing? I don't see anyone like that here." She paused, thinking furiously. "It can't be a virus, can it?"

"No one knows," Paris said. "Chakotay went down within ten minutes of touching the captain just after her attack, and obviously, so did Francis. Yet, I haven't felt anything at all, and I touched the Commander plenty when I was trying to hold him down on the bridge."

Ro frowned, thinking furiously.  "Maybe you have a natural immunity?" the Bajoran suggested.

"Maybe," he allowed, but didn't seemed pleased by the suggestion.

"Damn," Ro muttered and sat down on the closest biobed, feeling helpless. She wanted an enemy to strike at ... what good was advanced tactical training when there was no foe, no opponent to conquer? Just an invisible, insidious Terror which struck down individuals at random, without regard for species.

"I think the hardest part is that it's so ... unspecific," Tom said, offering his opinion on how people were feeling even though he hadn't actually undergone anything himself. Ro didn't know why that irritated her so much, but it did. She strived not to show it, however. "I mean, we all have fears, certain things in our psyche that terrify us, but this doesn't seem to prey on those elements within ourselves ... this Terror seems to be absolute, yet not really directed at anything at all." He paused, searching for something to keep the conversation going. "I think the one thing I'm most afraid of, would be to lose my ability to pilot, to be unable to fly starships. I guess I really don't like rats, either."

He looked over at Seven, raising an eyebrow. "What scares you?" he asked. "Or are you going to tell me that Borg don't get scared."

"Borg do not," Seven responded evenly. She inhaled. "However, as a Human, the one thing that I am most afraid of is losing Kathryn," she added with devastating, yet casual honestly. "If I did, I believe that I would cease functioning completely."

Ro blinked, feeling that hit her in the gut like a physical blow. Not necessarily the implication of it, but how much she sensed that Seven truly meant it. Without her spouse, Seven did not want to go on. Ro could not imagine being that tied to anyone, not even B'Elanna. She cast another glance over at the woman with whom she had been romantically involved for some months.

Not even 'Lanna, she thought sadly, though she did recognize that no one else had ever reached in and touched her heart to the extent that the engineer had. Suddenly, she realized why B'Elanna envied Janeway and Seven so much, why she longed to have the same kind of relationship. On the other hand, was that much dependance necessarily a good thing? Both she and the Klingon were proudly independant, and to give that up would somehow change who they were fundamentally. It might even remove the very thing that drew them together in the first place, an attraction to a strong, capable individual.

"What of you, Lt. Ro?" Seven asked. "What frightens you?"

Ro hesitated, not wanting to share that much of herself, not even to Seven who she had grown to like a great deal, and especially not in front of Paris. But she also did not wish to appear any less courageous than the Borg, who had been so natural with her honesty.

"To be controlled," she admitted finally. "To be completely conquered. To watch horrible things happen and be unable or unwilling to do anything about it. I don't mean being imprisoned, because true freedom is a state of mind, not body ... but to be so oppressed that one cannot fight back even when the opportunity exists. That is my greatest fear."

There was a pause as her companions considered that.

"Wow," Tom said. "That's pretty ... profound."

She bristled, thinking he was mocking her, until she saw his eyes and realized he wasn't. With an effort, she calmed herself and involuntarily looked over at B'Elanna again. To her great relief, the engineer was awake and sitting up, Sek and the Doctor talking to her intently. Ro immediately slid off the biobed and strode briskly over to her lover, getting there ahead of the captain and Seven, but just barely.

"A little room, please," the Doctor said acidly.

"I'm fine," B'Elanna remarked, raising her hand. Her dark eyes intersected with Ro's and warmed perceptibly. "Really I am."

"The question remains, however," the captain noted sharply. "Why did she lose consciousness while the rest of us didn't. I understand now why Francis died, but does Lt. Torres also have a medical condition that would cause this?"

"If you consider being Klingon a medical condition," the Doctor said dryly.

"Captain, Klingons are psychologically conditioned from a very young age to fight fear," Sek noted. Ro wondered if the hologram had discovered that in her regular counseling sessions with the engineer. Certainly, it was not something that the Bajoran had known. "Not control it or suppress it, as Humans or Bajorans might do, but fight it with a warrior spirit, and crush it to nothingness. Also Klingons do not react physically to fear as other species do. The emotion is treated almost as a foreign body, and the body's immunity reacts in a similar fashion, flooding the circulatory system with antibodies and increasing the demands on the internal organs, not to mention activating all the redundant systems."

"The Samurai warrior ethic taken to an absolute extreme," the Doctor added.

"This Terror can't be fought, however," Sek noted. "From your descriptions, it's not specific enough to be isolated in the mind. There is no cause to center the aggressive responses on, nothing to destroy."

"So she passed out?" Janeway replied and B'Elanna flushed, obviously very embarrassed  for having such physiological reflexes.

"Something like that," the Doctor agreed. "It's fortunate she isn't a full Klingon, or worse, a full Warrior Master. It could, in that case, actually cause liver damage after several attacks."

"So what happens now?" Tom asked.

The Doctor glanced at him, but directed his response to the captain. "Honestly, I realize that this is not the answer you want, but I have no clue what is happening," he said. "Whatever this is, it's not being transmitted by air or touch. More people would be coming down with it, if it were the former, and the other is not viable because not all of the patients have been in physical contact with each other. There is a trail from Seven to you to Chakotay and Francis. Yet, Mr. Paris remains completely healthy and unaffected while neither B'Elanna nor Ro are in that physical trail at all. Nor have there been any reports from the people that B'Elanna and Ro have come in physical contact with in the past twenty-four hours." He tilted his head and took a deep breath. "It's possible that this ... whatever ... is loose in the entire ship, and while I'd like to isolate those who have been affected, it doesn't seem practical. I would like to keep anyone with similar medical problems as Francis, as well as B'Elanna, here for future observation. I'd also like to leave sickbay free for patients who can't get right back up again when the seizure is over, rather than confine capable officers who are going to disrupt things eventually through boredom or frustration." He eyed the captain, Seven, Ro and Chakotay disdainfully. "Frankly, I couldn't have come up with a worse group to try to isolate if I had deliberately set out to do so."

Janeway raised her chin warningly and he hastily continued.

"As long as everyone has someone around them to help in the event of an incident, just to keep them from drowning in the bathtub or something, I don't see why I can't release you. There are no after effects from this beyond the minor physiological responses any good scare would cause, and I suspect you'd all be more helpful at finding the real cause of this by remaining on duty rather than staying here."

Ro thought that was quite reasonable of him ... far more than she would have expected. It obviously surprised Janeway a little as well, though the captain was quick to take him up on it.

"Very well," she said. "Keep me informed of any further findings." She shot an apologetic look at her chief engineer. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant, but it seems that you'll have to remain here for the time being. I'll send Seven down to cover your duties."

"Wonderful," B'Elanna said, crossing her arms over her chest. She obviously was not pleased by this and would undoubtedly be nothing but a pain to deal with. Ro understood why the Doctor would be so anxious to clear his sickbay of others who would equally chafe under such restrictions.

"What about the children?" Seven spoke up then, worriedly.

The Doctor blinked. "You're right, Seven," he said grimly. "Unlike the adults on board, they won't be able to understand what's happening or how to deal with it." He paused, taking a moment to think about it. "With your permission, Captain, I'd like to have all the children on the ship, including Naomi, moved to Safe Haven as soon as possible. That way, it will be easier to keep a handle on things, as well as make sure the children have immediate attention if this Terror does strike them. In the meantime, we need to run a complete molecular biopsy on Ensign Francis's brain. Perhaps we can pinpoint something visually in the tissue that the first scanned autopsy didn't reveal."

Janeway considered it. "Permission granted, Doctor," she said. "Appropriate whatever personnel you need to do your work as quickly as possible. I have no idea how many more attacks there'll be, or how many people will be affected."

She glanced back at the rest of her senior officers. "Tom, assist the Doctor. Ro, you go with Seven and assist her in securing engineering. Chakotay, you're with me."

Ro nodded and followed Seven as the Borg obediently headed for the door. The Bajoran would rather have been on the bridge, but she also realized that she had been, in effect, chosen by the captain to act as Seven's shadow, to look after her if she was struck by the Terror again. It was not a responsibility abdicated easily by Janeway, and Ro supposed that she should feel honored by the captain's faith in her.

She did sneak a peek back at the Klingon before she left, feeling her heart twinge as B'Elanna raised an hand forlornly at her before the doors slid shut, cutting off the Bajoran's view of her lover. Then she resolutely turned her attention to the problem at hand, knowing that the sooner this was cleared up, the sooner the engineer would be released from sickbay.

Janeway 's first act, before even leaving sickbay, was to implement the Doctor's suggestion of maintaining constant supervision by sending out the order shipwide that everyone was to partner up with another crewmember at all times. It meant that many of the crew, including herself, would be required to operate on double and even triple shifts until the crisis had passed, but she saw no other way around it.

"Commander, I want everyone working full-time on solving this little mystery," she instructed Chakotay as the pair strode toward the turbolift. "I want the science labs operating at full capacity for the next rotation, checking every proposed solution or suggestion, no matter how radical."

"Do you foresee this getting worse?" he asked anxiously as the pair stepped onto the turbolift.

Janeway inhaled slowly. "I just want to have this cleared up as quickly as possible," she said.  She was aware of her first officer glancing at her surreptitiously as they stood, waiting for the lift to ascend to the bridge.

"By tomorrow, you mean," he guessed. "Your anniversary."

Janeway flushed. She had not wanted to go into specifics but she could not help but want the next day to be free of any distractions. If they could not discover the cause of these random incidents, it would mean that both she and Seven would be on active duty for however long it took to find a solution for it.

"I'm being foolish," she admitted, acutely embarrassed now that it was out in the open. "Worse, it's completely inappropriate behavior."

"No, Kathryn," he said, his voice gentle as he reached out and momentarily paused the progress of the tube, apparently realizing she needed to talk. "It sounds like you're trying to balance your personal life with your professional one as best you can, and no one can blame you for that. When I think of what a hard job it can be to have any success at either..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "I'm just so filled with admiration for you both."

Janeway tried to accept his words at face value but a part of her still felt the need for further justification. "It's just that ... I've missed Seven's birthday the past two years in a row," she said softly. "She doesn't indicate that it bothers her but I think that it must on some level. I do know that it bothers the hell out of me." She shook her head. "Dammit, the whole reason I asked her to marry me on the first eve of Prixin was to be sure I would have lots of reminders to keep me from forgetting our anniversary as I have her birthdays. It shames me to be continually making things up to her days, weeks, even months, after the day when I should have honored her. She certainly doesn't forget the days which are special with regards to me."

"But she's not a Starfleet captain," Chakotay noted reasonably. "She doesn't have your responsibilities."

"But what does that mean, Chakotay?" Janeway replied, a certain amount of dismay in her tone. "That I can simply neglect her time after time and justify it by saying something more critical came along? That my job is more important than she is to me? I don't want to do that anymore. She's the most important person in the universe to me, and it took both of us going through a great deal of anguish to finally teach me that lesson." She paused, composing herself. "Look, I know if this crisis isn't resolved, we'll just have to work through it, just as we have every one before it and every one that will come after it. That's understood by everyone involved. All I want is for every effort to be put forth so that it doesn't take too long. Maybe I'm being selfish..."

"No," he interrupted flatly. "We all know how much of yourself you've given to this ship and this crew, Kathryn." He ran his hands through his hair and offered her a smile. "If we can give something back, then we will. In fact, I suspect we'll have this all cleared up in time for your anniversary tomorrow. My word on it."

She grinned sheepishly at him. "That's a mighty big promise you're making there," she said, her sense of humor restoring itself. "Considering none of us know what the hell is causing this or what it will take to stop it when we do find out."

"Have faith, Kathryn," he said, reaching out to touch the controls to start the turbolift on its journey again. "I have a good feeling about this."

It was unfortunate that he was felled at that moment by another attack of the Terror, his arms and legs thrashing uncontrollably as he instinctively tried to ward off whatever was happening to him. It completely undermined his entire optimistic speech as Janeway prudently retreated to the farthest part of the lift to wait until his seizure subsided. With scientific detachment, she noted the duration and intensity until finally, after approximately forty-five seconds ... which undoubtedly felt like a lifetime to her first officer if the memory of her own attack was accurate ... he ceased his mindless flailing and lay on the deck, shivering.

Compassionately, she knelt beside him and brushed back a lock of dark hair which had fallen over his brow, then rested her hand warmly on his shoulder. She did not say anything, merely tried to be a physical comfort to him as he composed himself. After another moment, he managed to get back on his feet.

"The worst part," he said shakily, "is how damned helpless you feel in the aftermath."

"I know," she said quietly. "Believe me, I know." She took a breath. "I am curious why both you and Seven have been struck twice whereas I've only had one experience."

"Count your blessings," he said, managing a wan grin. "Besides, you may yet receive your fair share in the future."

"There is that," she allowed ruefully. She activated the lift once more and this time, they reached the bridge without any further delays.

She thought Tuvok looked just the slightest bit relieved when he saw the captain and first officer exit the turbolift, but she knew better than to notice it too much. Assuming her place in her chair, she was also aware of a certain relaxation in the atmosphere permeating the bridge, almost as if now that she were here, things were going to be all right. A case of 'be careful what you wish for', she thought as she and Chakotay started organizing the crew to fight this threat, working through the console on the panel between them. Certainly she had done her level best to cultivate that deep faith in her command ... she didn't know of any captain who didn't ... but it occurred to her that a little less belief in her infallibility would be nice, particularly if the Terror struck again and the crew was witness to her cowering on the floor and whimpering like a child.

Thinking of children made her heart sink and she hoped with everything she had that this would not touch them at all. It was one thing for adults to go through the experience, even when, in the case of Francis, it had the possibility of being fatal, but for a child to be struck down was almost more than she could bear. Not for the first time, she was reminded of how very heavy the responsibility of having children on board was, of how much greater a burden being in command of a generational ship placed on her. Sometimes she didn't know how she managed it.

Moment by moment, she reminded herself sardonically. Trying not to look too far ahead and when it all gets to be too much, crawling into Seven's lap and bawling like a baby until it's time to get on with things once more.

She spared a thought for her partner down in engineering, missing her tremendously. She had actually considered having Seven assigned to the bridge for the duration of this mess, where she could keep an personal eye on her. It was particularly strong after seeing the cool, efficient Seven writhing on the deck, the mindless fear in those pale eyes, not even able to recognize what was going on around her. However, Janeway knew that the ship would be best served with the Borg taking over B'Elanna's duties in engineering and for now, she had to content herself with the fact that she had assigned Ro Laren as Seven's watchdog. Despite the Bajoran's penchant for bending orders, and a borderline rebellious attitude, she was still a graduate of Starfleet tactical training and a superbly capable officer. She would look after Seven if need be, and if the caretaking wasn't needed, she still had considerable skills which would be useful in engineering.

The captain, however, could not help but be acutely conscious of the hours slipping away as she worked, knowing that time was growing short for her to find a solution for this in a way that would not interfere with her personal life. She felt extremely guilty as she did, confused by how she could be so self-absorbed during a crisis. It was almost a relief when Lt. Kim interrupted her chain of thought.

"Captain, long range sensors are detecting some form of energy output," Harry said, looking up from his ops station.

"Can you elaborate?" Chakotay demanded as both he and Janeway glanced over their shoulders to look at the young man.

"It's hard to get a clear reading," he said, keying in several requests, his hands light on the touch pad. He frowned, his dark brows lowering and lines appearing in his forehead. "It seems to fluctuate, as if it is being generated in subspace one instant, then normal space the next."

"On screen," Janeway barked, sitting up straight in her chair as she turned her head forward. "Magnify."

The fore viewscreen which loomed over the front of the bridge, flickered briefly to bring the spatial anomaly into focus, enlarging the small glowing dot in the center into something that no one on the bridge could recognize. It was crimson and gold and sapphire, as well as countless other colors which were not quite in the vocabulary to describe, unfolding in space like a flower, spreading constantly from the inside, yet not growing any larger. Flashes of light flickered within it like neon lightning, pulsating with apparent power and possible threat. Janeway blinked, astounded by the display.

"Report?" Her tone was more questioning than demanding.

"It is difficult to get a clear reading, Captain," Tuvok noted calmly. "It does not conform to any recorded phenomena in the ship's databanks. Sensors seem unable to isolate any clear readings on it."

"Is there anything about it that would indicate it has anything to do with the fear that has been striking everyone?" Janeway asked.

"There is nothing to verify such speculation," Tuvok said. He paused. "However, there is nothing that would preclude such speculation either."

"Well, it's the only thing that's unusual for light-years," Janeway decided. "Let's assume a connection for now and concentrate all our scans on..."

She didn't finish her sentence. The fear was stronger this time, more relentless in its grip and yet, at the same time, she seemed more capable of movement, of directing her actions ... even when they didn't make sense. She was prying open the panel next to her, reaching for the phaser contained within, flipping the setting up to the kill level with her thumb. Fortunately, Chakotay did not hesitate, knocking it from her hands, and she turned on him, lips drawn back in a snarl as she raked her nails across his face, barely missing his eyes. He twisted away, blood welling in the four jagged scratches as Tuvok moved swiftly around the tactical console, took the short flight of stairs in one bound and grasped the captain's wrists.

She screamed, fury and terror in equal measure making her struggle in his Vulcan grasp, which was so much greater than a Human's, attempting to kick him in the legs which he nimbly avoided, then abruptly the fear was gone, and she sagged in his arms.

"Oh my god," she moaned.

Chakotay held his hand to his face, trying to staunch the bleeding as he turned to the horrified Harry Kim who was watching all this with wide eyes.

"Send out a ship wide alert," the first officer ordered. "Inform the crew that the attacks have changed and turned violent. Make sure all appropriate care is taken."

"Yes, Commander," the lieutenant muttered and turned to his board, obviously made uncertain by what he had just witnessed.

"Commander, I suggest a dermal regenerator for that," Tuvok said, unperturbed as he eased Janeway into the captain's chair.

Janeway swallowed hard, her heart still pounding and her temper still high, even as she realized what was happening and what it was making her do. She clenched her hands into fists to keep them from shaking and took deep gulps of air, fighting to regain control. Finally, her heart slowed and she no longer needed to restrain herself from striking out. She winced as she looked over and saw Tuvok efficiently utilizing a dermal regenerator to heal the wounds she had inflicted on her first officer.

"Chakotay," she said, her voice raspy. His dark eyes turned to her, and she gestured weakly with her hand. "I'm sorry."

"Only apologize if you meant to do it," he muttered, smiling crookedly. "We both know this wasn't your fault."

Janeway nodded. "The question remains, who ... or what ... is really responsible for this," she agreed. She glanced involuntarily at the spatial anomaly which remained on the viewscreen, feeling a chill shiver down her spine as it continued to billow colorfully within the blackness of space.

How would she go about defeating something that no one could even put a description to?

Seven of Nine noted that the ship's warp engines were operating at peak efficiency, a tribute to the engineer she was temporarily replacing, and moved over to monitor the power flow relays. A great deal of B'Elanna's job was simply keeping track of everything going on in her department rather than actually doing any work herself, and Seven spent a lot of time staying at the main console, checking on the readings there. It was a measure of the lessons the Borg had learned about socialization that she attempted not to be intrusive to others on the engineering staff, keeping her presence from interrupting the various crewmembers who were working. Lt. Ro hovered within reach, but did not intrude either, making herself busy by finding an auxiliary post nearby.

Seven glanced over at the Bajoran, wondering if she considered this assignment of 'shadowing' the Borg as annoying as Seven herself did. She understood, to a certain degree, why Kathryn had done it, but it did not make her happy to know she required a 'babysitter'. Though, to be fair, perhaps she was as much Ro's monitor as the Bajoran was hers. After all, Ro had been struck by the Terror as well.

"Did you want something, Seven?" Ro asked, obviously having noticed the glance her way even though she had not looked up from her touch pad at all.

Seven shook her head. "It is unrelated to duty," she said.

Ro smiled briefly, still not looking up. "Which means it's personal," she noted. "Regarding B'Elanna and I?"

Seven inhaled slowly. "We are on duty," she said primly, offering the Bajoran a way out.

"I can talk and work at the same time," Ro said, then paused. "However, while I appreciate that you and Lanna are known for your frank ... and graphic ... conversations, I'm not prepared to indulge you in the same manner. So while you can ask any questions you want, I will answer only those I choose."

Seven was vaguely surprised that Ro would allow that much but she would not pass up this opportunity. In truth, Ro Laren was incredibly reticent and the Borg knew little about her beyond what B'Elanna had told her. Lately, B'Elanna hadn't even been telling her that much, and Seven suspected that was a result of B'Elanna being involved with such a person, taking on some of that discretion on herself. Perhaps that was to be an expected, if unenlightening aspect of her friend's new relationship. After all, Seven had learned not to be so forthcoming in certain areas herself, purely as a result of being involved with the captain.

"I am curious," Seven said. "What are your intentions toward B'Elanna? Are they honorable?"

Ro laughed, a short bark of sound that seemed somewhat devoid of humor. "Who are you, her mother?" she responded.

Responding to a question with a question, Seven noted. An obvious avoidance of the query, and a tactic she had learned about from her partner, who used it quite often when cornered.

"I am her friend," she explained shortly.

Ro seemed to consider that. "Fair enough," she allowed. She finally raised her head and pinned Seven with a dark-eyed glance. "I love her," she said simply. "I don't know what that means yet, exactly, but I do know that I don't ever want to hurt her."

"It appears that you already have," Seven said delicately.

Ro's gaze shifted. "I know," she said. "It was unintentional." She tilted her head. "She hurt me, as well. We're doing our best to get by it."

Seven stared at her, judging her sincerity.

"Very well," she said, satisfied by the expression in the Bajoran's eyes. "I apologize if it seems that I am interfering. I am merely concerned for B'Elanna's happiness."

Ro nodded, thinking about this. "So how are you and the captain getting along?" she asked bluntly. "Any conflicts recently?"

Seven blinked. Crewmembers rarely asked about her and the captain's relationship, and she knew that Janeway was somewhat reluctant to have it discussed with just anyone. She didn't even tell B'Elanna everything there was to tell any longer. She opened her mouth to respond that she would prefer not to speak of it ... then realized that was exactly what she had been doing with Ro. She colored faintly, and dipped her head.

"I understand," she said. "Again, my apologies."

Ro raised her hand in a gesture that signified she was waving it off. "Just making a point," she said. "I'm just not as forthcoming as Lanna. I never will be."

"I am beginning to understand that," Seven said. She hesitated. "Still, I would be remiss if I did not let you know that if you were to treat B'Elanna untowardly ... as Mr. Paris has, for example ... I would be most displeased."

Ro grinned crookedly. "And?"

"It would not be pleasant for you," Seven said evenly.

Ro smiled wryly. "Well, I've certainly been threatened with less grace, that's for sure," she said. "I get your message, Seven. Loud and clear. I can't promise that I'll never hurt B'Elanna. I don't know anyone who has been in love who is not hurt on occasion. I can promise you, however, that I will never attempt to deliberately hurt her. Ever."

"That is sufficient," Seven accepted.

The doors to engineering slid open and Seven lifted her head to see Sek enter. She raised an eyebrow quizzically as the hologram approached.

"I'm just here to do a follow-up check on you both," the hologram said, showing her medical tricorder. "You've heard that the attacks have turned violent."

"I have," Seven replied. She also heard that it had been on the bridge, but that no one was seriously injured so she had not been overly worried. Indeed, she couldn't. Kathryn had made it clear where her place was, and Seven had no intention of letting her partner down, particularly after the captain had been slightly disappointed in her earlier for leaving her post prematurely.

Seven wasn't sure what it was that warned her. Perhaps it was the widening of Sek's eyes as she looked over her patient's shoulder, interrupted in running the probe over the Borg.  In any event, Seven was able to shift just enough so that the blow intended to snap her spine hit her on the shoulder instead. Not that it would have snapped her neck, of course, which was reinforced by metal and nanoprobes, but were she an ordinary Human, it definitely would have been a killing blow. The strike did drive the air out of her lungs with surprise, however, and the blow to her solar plexis in the next second, sent her to her knees.

"Ro, what are you doing?" Sek exclaimed, shocked by the attack. No warrior, despite the contribution to her matrix from B'Elanna, the hologram didn't react quickly enough to alter her density, and a kick snapped her head back, knocking her across the deck.

Going after the hologram, however, had given Seven the precious time she needed to recover, and she rolled to her feet.

"Stand clear," she ordered. "It is the Terror. She is not responsible."

Indeed, Ro Laren's eyes held no recognition, no sense of who she was or what she was doing, flickering about the area in mingled fear and fury. Other crewmembers in engineering had surrounded her, but warned off by the Borg, they did not attempt to subdue her ... which was a fortunate thing, Seven decided. With her training and skill, Ro Laren was a formidable threat, indeed and Seven certainly did not want to have to tell B'Elanna that while she was in charge of her department, one or more of her engineering team had been hurt, or possibly killed, while trying to contain the chief's lover.

"I will handle this," she said calmly. She raised her hands in a gesture of peace, quickly having to alter her stance as Ro rushed her.

The Bajoran woman was wickedly fast, quicksilver in her motion, her lean body like a dancer rather than the bull rush of a much larger, stronger opponent. Ro Laren was as dangerous as anyone on the ship, particularly at the moment, and despite the fact she was not in command of her mind, the Bajoran's body was quite controlled, moving with a sleek deadliness as she attacked Seven of Nine, obviously intending to cause her great harm, possibly of the fatal variety.

However, Seven was Borg. As quick as Ro Laren was, Seven was quicker; as flexible as the Bajoran moved, Seven was just as lithe; and where Ro was vicious, Seven was coolly composed, able to counter each blow which came her way. Her enhanced reflexes were able to blunt each killing strike, to deflect every attempt to penetrate a vulnerable area. However, the possibility of the woman deciding that Seven was too much of an opponent was a very real possibility. In that case, Ro might attempt to flee through one of the less capable personnel ringing them, and Seven could not allow that to happen. She quickly changed her posture from one of defense to attack.

Moving with efficient determination, she attempted to disable the Bajoran without hurting her. When that proved too difficult, Seven utilized a shoot movement, diving for the woman’s legs, knocking her over immediately.  Seven then scrambled on top of her, using her greater weight and a wrestling technique to pin Ro to the deck. She drew back her arm, calculated the exact force needed to cause unconsciousness and swung. Just before it landed, she saw the confusion in Ro's eyes, the sense that the Terror had subsided, but it was too late to pull the blow. Regretfully, Seven winced as her backhanded strike connected, whipping Ro's head over, drawing blood from her mouth as it knocked her out and worse, broke her jaw with an audible crack.

"That was unfortunate," she said with honest remorse as she slipped off the fallen lieutenant. She quickly gathered the Bajoran up in her arms, looking expectantly at Sek who was just getting to her feet. Apparently, the fight had only taken a moment or two and not several as it had felt like to Seven's time sense, distorted by adrenalin and nanoprobe activation as she gave into aggression, .

"I shall carry her to sickbay," she ordered. "Lt. Carey, you are in command of engineering."

Sek scrambled to catch up to the Borg as she strode purposely down the corridor for the turbolift, protective of her burden. "Seven," she said, running her probe over the Bajoran as the lift ascended, "she's not seriously injured. Just a broken jaw." She paused, her eyes widening. "You did crack three of her ribs, however."

"She needs to be in sickbay," Seven replied, dismayed at the information. Apparently she had miscalculated the required force of her blows after all. She had no idea when or how she had damaged the Bajoran's ribs. The lift doors opened and the trio stepped off, moving quickly to the medical center where B'Elanna Torres was horrified at the sight of her friend bearing her lover through the doors.

"What the hell happened?" she said, slipping off her biobed and rushing over, much to the Doctor's irritation.

"I struck her," Seven explained honestly. "She turned violent and it seemed the only option to restrain her."

"What, you couldn't use a hypospray or a phaser?" B'Elanna yelped.

"Clear the area," the Doctor said, raising his voice as he attempted to treat the patient. Ro was coming around and the pain from her injuries must have made themselves felt because she moaned, a hiss through an immobile mouth. "Stay still, Lieutenant."

The Doctor used a bone knitter to repair the fractured bones as Seven looked on regretfully. She was startled when B'Elanna punched her in the arm.

"You didn't have to hit her so hard," the engineer complained.

Frowning, Seven rubbed her arm painfully where the Klingon's blow had landed. "Agreed," she said, with a touch of shame. "I miscalculated. I should have utilized the Vulcan neck pinch, but Ro was very difficult to subdue."

"Well, don't do it again," B'Elanna growled.

"Doctor, this is becoming dangerous," Seven said. "Now, not only must we deal with the Terror, but with the possibility of our crewmates turning on us."

"I am aware of that, Seven," the Doctor said, slightly exasperated. "And, believe it or not, I am doing everything I can to figure out why this is happening."

Seven started to respond, then subsided. "I am sorry if it seemed that I was questioning your methods," she said quietly.

"No, I'm sorry," he said contritely, after a moment. "I'm just frustrated, Seven. So far, these attacks have been limited to the captain, Chakotay, Ro, Ensign Francis, B'Elanna and you. I have no idea what the single common element between the six of you is."

Seven noticed Sek's face had just turned pale and the Borg raised an eyebrow. She had not thought it was possible for a hologram to manage that particular shade, yet somehow, there it was.

"Sek?" she queried, stepping forward.

Sek backed away. "You have to isolate me somehow," she said, her voice calm, yet with the slightest hint of tension marring her eyes. "I came in contact with all those people.  I must be the carrier. I just hadn't realized it until you put all the patients' names who had been attacked in that particular order. That was my exact schedule yesterday. I spent the morning with Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay going over my progress on becoming the ship's counselor. The other four, in that order, were my afternoon appointments."

The Doctor goggled at her. "Are you saying you have something to do with this?" he repeated, flabbergasted.

"I'm saying, I'm the single common element among the six from yesterday," Sek said. "We'll have to figure out the rest from here."

Seven straightened, hands linked behind her back. "It does seem a prudent course of action," she allowed. She dipped her head.

"Someone must inform the captain."

Janeway regarded her senior staff with astonishment. She was sitting in the conference room, in her customary chair at the head of the curved table, beneath the backdrop of large windows lining the hull. Attending the briefing, the Doctor, B'Elanna, Seven, and Harry all looked serious as they gave their reports. Chakotay, Tom Paris and Tuvok were also present, but they remained quiet for the most part, as uninformed as the captain was.

"You can't be serious," she said. "This is Sek's doing?"

"Not directly," the Doctor explained with a sigh. "It is the anomaly. Sek is merely amplifying what it is ... experiencing. First the terror at finding itself trapped, then fury at that situation."

The captain pinned her gaze on her CMO. "Are you saying it's alive?"

"That does seem to be what our scans are telling us," B'Elanna offered.

"All right," Janeway said, holding up a hand to slow things down. "Let's start from the beginning here."

"Agreed," Chakotay added. Four parallel lines still showed palely pink on his cheek where they had been recently healed and would obviously require a day or two before they had faded completely. B'Elanna looked at the evidence of the wounds curiously.

"Once we concentrated our medical scans on the anomaly itself," the Klingon said, forcing herself back to the matter at hand, "we were able to clearly detect indications of biometric energy consistent with that of a lifeform."

The first officer blinked. "Is it possible this thing is ... sentient?"

"Unknown," the Doctor broke in. "I don't know that we have enough information to believe it is intelligent. However, we do believe these emotions are being generated by the entity and passed on to the people affected."

"What does Sek have to do with this?" the captain demanded doggedly.

"Apparently she is ... developing empathy," the Doctor said reluctantly. "Just as Kes did."

Janeway stared, astounded. "What?"

"It's undetermined whether that's actually occurring here," Harry interjected at that point, taking over for the Doctor. Obviously the operations officer was not in total agreement with the Doctor's assessment of what was happening with Sek. "This ... creature may merely be projecting on an electromagnetic wavelength that matches the resonance frequency of Sek's matrix."

Lt. Kim had been called down to sickbay when Seven, B'Elanna and the Doctor started cross-referencing Sek's holo-imaging matrix with the ship's scans of the entity in an attempt to determine if indeed, Sek was the catalyst. They had all been stunned when they discovered a matching pattern in energy output between the anomaly outside and that of Sek's pattern. B'Elanna, in fact, had been flatly disbelieving, yet the correlation was there.

"There's no consensus between us on why Sek is somehow amplifying the output from the being," the engineer offered. "But ship's sensor logs indicate that the output did begin yesterday and it does seem to originate with Sek. We six were in contact with her yesterday at various times when the 'connection' was made with the entity as its 'trap' was being filtered into our space. As a result, we were somehow .... 'linked' into the feedback loop."

"Why aren't you and the rest experiencing fear or anger constantly then? Isn't Sek 'emoting' these feelings all the time?" Tom asked. "Is the creature only intermittently afraid?"

"No," B'Elanna pointed out. "The 'trap' is only intermittently in normal space. That's when the connection is made with Sek and passed on to us. I'm pretty sure it's afraid and mad all the time. Also time passes at a different rate in subspace than in normal space, that's why we use it to channel communications."  She didn't think that answered much for the helmsman. He just looked a little more confused, but he did not respond any further.

Harry leaned forward. "Seven, B'Elanna and I have come up with a way to vary the modulation of the force fields in sickbay to break that 'link' and have already put that modification into place around Sek's office. Those modifications drain a great deal of energy from our reserves, but the force field will keep Sek from projecting any more incidents of overwhelming emotion. If we continue on our course, we'll eventually move beyond the creature's range and she can leave her office once more. Patience is all we really have to utilize to solve this problem."

The captain put her hands down on the table, her eyes narrowing. "Let me see if I understand this correctly," she said with a frown. "This ... 'creature' is going about its business in subspace when all of a sudden, it finds itself becoming 'trapped' in the layer between that and normal space. Naturally, it is first terrified by what is happening, then gradually becomes furious, fighting to escape. While this is going on, Sek has developed some form of empathy with it ... which is impossible considering she is a hologram, sentient or not ... and then, she somehow 'infected' myself, my first officer, Seven, Francis, B'Elanna and Ro with a further form of 'shared empathy' while we were in contact with her yesterday."

"Yes," Seven said approvingly from her chair on the opposite end of the table. "A concise summation."

Janeway rolled her eyes. "It is an insane explanation," she objected. "It sounds like something a bad holoprogram writer would come up with."

"With all due respect, Captain," Harry ventured. "Wasn't it you who said that 'weird' is part of the job description?"

The captain narrowed her eyes as she stared at him and he retreated.

"First off," Janeway said, heavily skeptical, "how does a hologram become 'empathic'?"

"Her matrix is based heavily on Kes's personality and biometric pattern," the Doctor pointed out calmly, "just as I am based on Dr. Zimmerman who imbued me with many of his ingrained character traits. Kes's empathy was well established. You, yourself, utilized it more than once in your capacity as captain."

"But projective empathy is a trait specific to telepathic species," Janeway said. "Like Betazoids, Vulcans or even Humans to a limited extent, but it is very rare and not understood very well, even then. Yet now you're telling me we built a hologram which is also capable of developing such a 'gift'?"

"It sounds rather unlikely put that way," the Doctor allowed.

"It is completely unlikely," Janeway shot back.

"Nonetheless, it is a conclusion based on empirical data," Seven noted. "The monitors in sickbay clearly detected periodic electromagnetic emanations from Sek that correspond directly with the incidents of the terror or fury which certain of the crew experienced. The energy output of the entity is matched exactly by the unconscious outbursts from Sek. Therefore, we must conclude that the two are linked, and since we have altered the force fields around the office where she is staying, there have been two bursts of energy from the entity which were not amplified by Sek."

Janeway blinked. When Seven spoke in such positive and certain terms, B'Elanna knew how difficult it was to argue with her. She guessed the captain had an equally hard time, even being her wife.

"What of this creature?" Tuvok spoke up, contributing to the meeting for the first time.

"Tuvok?" Chakotay prodded.

"If it is sentient, we have a moral obligation to assist its return to subspace," the Vulcan pointed out logically. "And even if it is not, perhaps we must entertain the option of somehow finding a way to relieve it of its ... 'misery'."

"Kill it, you mean?" the Doctor said, his voice rising.

"If it is suffering, that may be a logical alternative," Tuvok noted, unperturbed.

"That is not an option," Janeway said firmly. "However, Tuvok has a point. We simply can't go on our merry way, leaving the creature trapped. Suggestions?"

"We probably need to find out what is keeping it caught between the two levels of space," Harry said thoughtfully. "Then we can possibly make that 'trap' larger, which would open it and let the creature submerge back into its own space."

"Unless 'opening' it makes more of it come through to normal space instead," B'Elanna pointed out. "Opening the rift might only make things worse."

"Then we must find a way to do both at the same time," Seven noted. "Perhaps by reversing the tractor beam, modifying it into a repulsion beam of some sort, we can 'push' the creature while we utilize another tractor beam to 'pull' the rift in subspace further open."

"We could use the Delta Flyer to push while Voyager pulls," Paris offered. "Pushing takes less energy than pulling, and the rift will undoubtedly be harder to affect than the creature would be."

"Could this harm the creature further?" the Doctor said worriedly.

"No worse than what it is already being harmed," Harry offered. "I mean, what happens if it dies and Sek somehow manages to 'amplify' that, overloading the force fields?"

The crewmembers who had been tied into the initial 'connection', including the captain, looked distinctly uneasy at that suggestion.

"The personnel in the Delta Flyer will have to be limited to those not affected by this 'link', particularly since they'll have to get quite close to the subspace rupture," Janeway noted. "Tom, that leaves you and Harry to do this job."

"Aye, Captain," the pair of boyish lieutenants responded.

"Chakotay, have Lt. Ro report for helm duty," the captain added. "B'Elanna, I want you to modify the tractor beam as soon as possible. Let's get this done, people. Dismissed."

With a plan of action put in place, and the sense that they now knew how to solve the problem, the crew left the conference room with a renewed enthusiasm. A few hours later, after the tractor beams had been modified to operate as she wished, Janeway dispatched Harry and Tom to the Delta Flyer while Seven took over ops and Ro Laren took over the helm. The two vessels were carefully positioned at oblique angles to the anomaly, and golden beams of glowing energy shot out from their respective bows.

B'Elanna studied her board at the engineering station, monitoring the energy output from both vessels. She would prefer to be down in the engine room, but she understood why Janeway wanted everyone in one area for this. Behind B'Elanna, standing as unobtrusively as possible against the hull, Susan Nicoletti waited. In the event the force fields around Sek somehow failed or were overcome, she was required to take over for B'Elanna, who could be struck down by the overwhelming emotion from the entity at any time. Several other key personnel stood about the bridge as well, ready to take over any position, including command, while two security officers flanked the turbolift, with orders to immediately stun anyone who indicated unusual behavior. No one wanted a violent outburst of any kind.

Janeway sat quietly, infinitely calm and collected, her leg crossed elegantly over the other, her fingers linked casually on her stomach as her elbows rested lightly on the arms of her command chair. B'Elanna had no idea how the woman managed to do it, particularly now. It was possible that Janeway herself, could be struck down with another attack of fear or fury, just as she had been earlier, yet she did not indicate the thought had even crossed her mind. The Klingon was filled with admiration and appreciation. Not much wonder Seven's icy shell had been melted by such a formidable woman. Whose wouldn't?

B'Elanna shot a glance at her friend who was covering ops. A single, stray strand of light blonde hair had worked itself loose from the austere bun and the Klingon was surprised that Seven would allow that much of a flaw in her personal appearance while on duty. Then, a quick check of the chronometer readout in the corner of B'Elanna's console revealed that they all had been on duty for sixteen hours straight. Another couple of hours and it would be the first day of Prixin, and the young Borg's first wedding anniversary.

Wondering if the couple was going to do anything special to celebrate it beyond the next evening's party, B'Elanna made a quick mental note not to forget to wrap the gift that she and Ro Laren had acquired, having traded several replicator rations to Neelix for it, though only Kahless knew where he had first laid his hands on it. She thought that Janeway would appreciate owning one, even if Seven might not have any more idea of what  to do with it than the Talaxian did. The Klingon had been strongly tempted to keep it herself, particularly when she considered her relationship with Ro, but that would have left them without an anniversary gift to offer their friends.

The thought of her lover made B'Elanna's heart beat a little faster, and she cast a quick peek in the direction of the helm where Ro was holding the ship in place as Voyager plied its tractor beam. Ro had actually been on duty since the previous night, leaving to catch a couple of hours of sleep before she had been called back to cover the helm when Paris had been taken to sickbay. Double and even triple shifts were not unknown to any crewmember of Voyager, but the Klingon could tell Ro was operating on her last energy reserves, focusing on the task at hand with an almost fanatical devotion so that her weariness would not cause any errors.

B'Elanna carefully channeled auxiliary navigation through her console in order to back up the helm, ready to override any data input by mistake and correct it immediately. She wasn't subtle enough, however, because Ro immediate raised her head, shooting a sharp look across the bridge. But rather than the anger B'Elanna expected, Ro nodded once in gratitude at the support and resumed her full attention on the board in front of her. B'Elanna exhaled a breath she hadn't even been aware she was holding, and refocused her own attention to her data displays.

"Tractor beam output remains at a constant level," she reported when prompted by a small red light in her board, its sole purpose to remind her to pass on her findings to the bridge officer at specific times.

"Voyager is steady at one hundred thousand kilometers," Ro said immediately after her, undoubtedly using B'Elanna as her prompt, rather than the timing feature

"The Delta Flyer reports all systems at nominal," Seven noted. "No indication of movement, either from the entity or the rift."

Janeway inclined her head briefly. "Increase level by ten percent," she instructed.

B'Elanna watched as the levels rose across her board, holding steady, then another light flashed to indicate a change.

At the same time, Seven spoke up. "Sensors are detecting an increase in the size of the rift," she reported. "The entity is not moving however."

"Raise to twenty percent," Janeway said.

There was a jolt as the rift suddenly tore open briefly, the anomaly on the viewscreen abruptly enlarging, then just as suddenly, the whole thing disappeared and the starfield resumed its normal appearance. For a brief second, B'Elanna was inundated by a powerful wash of emotion which overcame the field modification; a fierce joy laced with triumph, relief and one thin thread of what seemed to be gratitude before it faded to nothing. Glancing around, she saw that she was not the only one to sense it, the captain holding a hand to her forehead as both Ro and Seven blinked with surprise. Chakotay had a smile on his face, one of satisfaction and serenity.

"I think that indicates this was a success," Janeway said dryly as she glanced over at Chakotay, seeming somewhat satisfied, herself. "I underestimated you, Commander. You did have it fixed by the time you said it would be."

"My word is my bond," he responded dryly. B'Elanna didn't understand that exchange at all.

"Delta Flyer reports that the rift is completely closed," Seven said. "They are returning to Voyager."

"Once they've landed in the hangar bay, lay in a course for the Alpha Quadrant," Janeway ordered.

"Aye, Captain," Ro responded smartly.

"The force fields around sickbay have been removed," Tuvok noted from tactical. "Power output is returning to nominal levels."

"Reversing modification on tractor beam," B'Elanna reported, finishing up the final commands. "Warp engines at full capacity."

"The Delta Flyer is back on board," Seven noted.

"Course for the Alpha Quadrant laid in," Ro noted, her hands hovering over her board, ready for the next command.

"Warp seven, Lieutenant," Janeway said. "Engage."

She offered the bridge crew a fond smile and lifted her head. "Attention, Voyager," she said, activating the ship wide comm band with those words. "Well done, people. It's been a very ... busy day, and with Prixin starting tomorrow, I think I would be remiss if I didn't schedule a proper holiday for everyone. We'll run with a skeleton crew for the next three days, volunteers only with triple replicator rations for any who accept the extra duty. Full R&R for everyone else."

B'Elanna thought she could hear the cheers echo through the ship as she logged off her board while the gamma shift personnel began to file onto the bridge and the excess beta shift headed off without ever getting to their posts. Another typical day in the Delta Quadrant, the Klingon thought sardonically, weariness seeping through her as the realization of another mission completed successfully began to seep through her mind and body.

The first officer shook his head. "It's ironic, isn't it?" he said quietly to the captain.

"What?" Janeway asked softly as B'Elanna eavesdropped shamelessly.

"So many things that we do seem so much ... larger than this," he said. "Yet, we probably just saved that being's whole universe. It probably didn't even know what we were or why we would help it."

Janeway smiled widely, showing her teeth. "Not everything we accomplish requires an explosion or a lot of running around and yelling," she said. "Sometimes we do manage to solve an entire crisis in the course of a day." Then she sobered. "However, we're not quite out of the woods yet." She paused, inhaling deeply.

"What the hell are we going to do with an empathic hologram?"

Janeway woke in the illumination of morning watch, the acknowledgment of what day it was filling her with enthusiasm as she stretched and rolled over, resting her forearm on Seven's chest as she looked down at her spouse. They had gotten to bed barely before midnight the night before, and both women had fallen asleep immediately with hardly so much as a kiss good-night exchanged. A glance at the chronometer revealed that they had slept almost ten hours and the captain smiled as Seven stirred, undoubtedly roused by the motion of her partner and the probable sense of being observed closely. The Borg's eyes opened, pale orbs muddled slightly with sleep that immediately cleared and focused on the captain. A smile curved Seven's full lips and she slid her arms around Janeway's compact form.

"Good morning," she said, her voice deep and languid, as it always was in the morning.

"Good morning, my love," Janeway said, wondering how it was possible to feel this happy and not expire from the sheer, overwhelming joy. "Do you remember how it was one year ago today?"

"I do," Seven remarked idly and glanced at the time readout set in the head of the bed. Her eyebrow quirked sardonically. "I woke and had breakfast, then proceeded to spend the rest of the morning preparing for our wedding. You remained unconscious in the bed until 1300 hours as a result of having overindulged with whiskey and soda at your bachelorette party the night before."

Janeway winced. "Damn, you'll be reminding me of that on our fiftieth anniversary, won't you?" she muttered, chagrined.

"On our hundredth," Seven smiled and softened, pulling her partner closer to her. "It was one of the happiest days of my existence," she said gravely. "Every single moment since, I have been profoundly grateful for the combination of events which allowed us to be together. You are everything to me, Kathryn Janeway, and our life together has enriched me immeasurably."

Blushing, Janeway reached down and kissed her partner softly. "I love you," she whispered against Seven's lips. "But you know that already."

"I do," Seven allowed. "Yet, I shall never tire of hearing you say it."

"Then I shall never tire of saying it to you," Janeway assured her.

Seven smiled. "Are other people in love as ... inane with their conversation as we can be?" she asked.

Janeway laughed. "I suspect they are," she allowed. "But we never hear it, just as no one gets to see or hear how we are with each other."  She nibbled the young woman's chin. "Besides, it's not 'inane', it's ... 'mushy'."

"Ah," Seven said sagely. "I had wondered. Yet, you do not like to show others the extent of how ... 'mushy' ... you are with me."

"Does that bother you?" Janeway looked wistful for a moment. "Darling, this... The way we are with each other is just for us, not anyone else. I'm not ashamed of how I feel for you ... it gives me peace and happiness in such measure that I can hardly express how much ... but public displays of affection are uncomfortable for me."

"Our wedding was a public display," Seven argued mildly, then raised an eyebrow. "However, I will admit that as happy as that day was, I did not truly feel joined to you until the next morning, when it was just the two of us." She kissed the captain sweetly. "I understand, my Kathryn. I have always understood."

"I'm glad, darling," the captain whispered. "I never want you to feel as if ... I loved you less in any way."

Seven kissed her again, deeply. "I know you do not," she said. She smiled and nuzzled Janeway's jaw. "How do you wish to spend our day together?"

"Besides what we're doing right now?" Janeway whispered, brushing her lips over Seven's sweetly. "Not a thing."

Seven smiled, her bottom lip briefly captured between Janeway's as she drew back slowly.

"The whole day?"

"At least until we have to get ready for the party," Janeway murmured.

"You will need to eat before then," Seven told her knowingly.

Janeway leered elegantly at her. "I can certainly tell you what I want to eat now," she said huskily. "Or rather, who."

Seven blushed and pulled her closer. "You are so incorrigible," she said.

"Why is it that when you talk about sex, I'm supposed to take it in stride, but when I talk about it, you blush?" Janeway asked, honestly curious.

"Because when I speak of it, it is purely for scientific reasons," Seven pointed out. "Which is why I am always surprised when you become embarrassed. You, on the other hand, only bring it up when you intend to make love, which makes your interest prurient."

"Oh, I see," Janeway said. "So if I start discussing, oh, the size and shape of your breasts on the bridge, it's all right as long as I make it clear I have only a scientific reason for bringing it up with, say ... Chakotay?"

Seven considered that for a moment, then blushed harder than Janeway had ever seen before. "You will not discuss my breasts on the bridge," she said firmly. "Not even for scientific purposes."

Janeway started to laugh, unable to keep a straight face. "Not even a little?" she begged.

"No," Seven demanded, then poked the captain when she didn't stop laughing, which of course, only made her laugh harder. Seven then rolled over and trapped the captain beneath her which didn't make Janeway stop laughing either, but it did make her wiggle pleasurably under the soft weight.

"Oh, my, I think I've finally started to get back some of the strips you've been taking out of me, lately," Janeway managed between her chuckles, digging her thumbs into Seven's ribs to make her squirm. "Not to mention how much Chakotay will enjoy the upcoming conversation."

Seven didn't reply, merely allowed herself to settle on the captain, squashing her gently until Janeway started to gasp for air.

"Okay, I give," Janeway said loudly, surrendering. "I won't talk about your breasts to Chakotay." Instantly, the weight was gone, supported by Seven's knees and elbows again and Janeway looked up at her partner. "You don't fight fair," she complained.

"I learned that from you," Seven informed her. She smiled faintly and nudged her thigh in between Janeway's, pressing her upper leg against the captain's most vulnerable spot, moving it slightly to rub it against the sensitive skin.

Janeway's eyes narrowed, her lips curving. "Hmm, I believe you're about to launch your second assault, aren't you," she murmured.

Seven pressed a little closer, and Janeway spread her legs, allowing more of the Borg's leg to touch the moisture starting to gather. She moved her own hips, feeling the little nodule slip gently against the smooth skin of Seven's thigh.

"Do you consider it an 'assault', Kathryn?" Seven asked gently.

Janeway nipped at the Borg's lower lip. "Only in the most loving of ways," she assured her just before Seven kissed her carefully, then again, deepening the touch, parting her lips to let the tip of her tongue emerge to tease Janeway's mouth lightly.

They weren't actually doing anything yet, the promise of things to come more than anything, but it was certainly progressing quite nicely. Janeway liked the tickling sensation of Seven against her, feeling the desire build slowly as the Borg's pupils widened perceptibly. They always did when Seven was becoming aroused and her kisses were becoming deeper, demanding, definitely more of the type that incited the captain's own pleasure.

Neither were pleased when they heard the chime echo softly through their quarters, indicating someone was at the door.

"No," Janeway groaned. "Oh, no."

Seven exhaled slowly. "Whoever it is must know we are here," she reminded unhappily. "They would have asked the computer. We cannot 'pretend' to be elsewhere."

"I know," Janeway growled. "But it's our anniversary, dammit. Can't they leave us alone for one single day?"

She had surprised Seven with the intensity of her anger, she saw, but honestly, as captain, she had been on call for over six years, while Seven, since coming on board two and a half years earlier, had always been there when needed. Their days for themselves were few and far between and on this one day in particular, Janeway thought the ship could leave her and her beloved to their own devices, especially after she had let them all off for R&R. Seven kissed her gently, soothing the anger somewhat with the sweetness of her lips.

"It is all right, Kathryn," she said gently. "It is likely someone who wishes to convey their good wishes. I am sure it will not take long. Remain here."

She rolled out of bed and pulled on her robe ... not the wickedly short, black silk robe that Janeway adored so much, but the blue terrycloth one which fell to the Borg's ankles and covered her varied assets completely ... before going out to the living area, carefully sealing the bedroom door behind her. Janeway lay in the bed, still annoyed, but no longer as angry. She wondered if perhaps she wasn't experiencing some lingering effect from their encounter with the anomaly, but then decided otherwise. It wasn't unreasonable, she thought defensively, to become irritated when visitors insisted on showing up on this special day. Especially when all she really wanted to do was stay in bed with Seven and make slow, passionate love for most of it.

She listened to the murmur of voices in the outer room, the conversation seeming to go on for hours to the impatient captain, though only about five minutes had passed before the voices stopped and Seven returned to the bedroom. She was holding a brightly wrapped present and held it up, showing Janeway.

"It was Commander Chakotay," she explained. "He assumed you were asleep and I did not disabuse him of that belief."

Janeway wondered if she was supposed to feel guilty for her lack of sociability and decided not to. "He should know better than to come by today," she muttered grouchily.

Seven eyed her for a moment, obviously attempting to gauge her mood. "Do you want to open the gift?" she asked.

"No," Janeway said, eyeing her with ardent attention. "I want you to come back to bed and play starship. I want you to activate my warp engines."

Seven quirked her eyebrow, amused by the captain's obvious desire. She placed the gift carefully on the lounger before slipping out of her robe and crawling onto the bed next to her spouse who welcomed her eagerly.

"Now," Janeway murmured. "Where were we?"

"At half impulse, I believe," Seven said dryly.

Janeway smiled as Seven carefully eased herself back on top of the captain, her body a familiar and comfortable blanket of warmly attractive flesh, which served to raise Janeway's spirits almost immediately. The captain felt the wonderful mouth cover hers again, and she happily tried to resume the passion she had been experiencing prior to the interruption. She parted her lips, allowing Seven's tongue to explore her, accepting the intimacy joyfully, gratefully submerging herself in the taste and sweetness of the woman she loved more than life itself.

The light sound of the door chime was like a nightmare, and what she said then was not the sort of language that a Starfleet captain should know at all. Seven merely sighed patiently and got out of bed a second time, drawing on her robe and leaving Janeway behind to fume impotently on the twisted sheets. This time, it took more than five minutes, stretching into ten, and the captain wondered if she was actually going to have to get up and start throwing people out of her quarters. Finally, after getting rid of the visitors, Seven returned to the bedroom, bearing yet another present.

"Lt Kim and Ensign Delaney," she explained. "Wanting to wish us a 'Happy Anniversary'."

Janeway pursed her lips and stared at her partner. "If you don't get in this bed and make love to me right this moment, I'm positively going to explode," she said flatly.

Seven didn't laugh exactly, but she did allow her teeth to show in her smile. The second gift joined the first and once more, the tall, golden Borg slipped out of her robe and joined the captain in the bed. Janeway immediately pounced on her spouse, kissing her with passionate intent, her hands moving almost roughly over the young woman's skin before Seven was able to grasp her wrists and slow her down.

"Easy, Kathryn," she said with humor. "I am not going to disappear."

Janeway exhaled, collapsing on her partner. "I'm sorry, darling," she said, honestly contrite. "It's driving me crazy."

Seven nuzzled her. "That is not necessarily a bad thing," she said huskily. "It merely prolongs the time it shall take to satisfy us both."

"That's what I love about you, Seven of Mine," the captain whispered against the full lips. "You always can show me the bright side of any situation."

Seven smiled and gently positioned Janeway over her so that she could use her mouth on the captain's breasts, paying the most sweet consideration to the nipples which tingled and ached under the loving treatment. Janeway sighed again, this time happily as she threw her head back. Her arms were braced on either side of Seven's head and she slowly relaxed, feeling the familiar sensations of desire and passion rise within her, losing herself in the delicate touch of lips and tongue against the sensitive skin. She did so love having her breasts caressed in such a fashion, almost humming as Seven granted her full and undivided attention to the task.

The door chime sounding for the third time made the captain start, fury flaring without restraint.

"That's it!" she yelped, leaping out of bed and grabbing her own robe. "I am going to give these fools such a piece of my mind."

She stormed out of the bedroom and slammed her hand against the door controls, glaring furiously through the entrance as it slid back with a slight hiss. Except there was nothing there and when she dropped her eyes, the lecture she had been constructing with such outrage had to be reversed, almost choking her as she was forced to swallow it back.

"Hello, Captain," Naomi Wildman said cheerfully, her arms full of a brightly wrapped package. "Is Seven home?"

Seven of Nine tried not to look at her partner who had taken a seat in the chair across the living area, sure that she would laugh out loud at the sheer frustration edging the elegant features. As Naomi happily offered a present to the couple and Janeway did her best not to glower at the child, Seven did have to admit that being aroused on three separate occasions and then forced to dampen down that desire and appear as if nothing had happened was not the easiest thing to do, but then, Seven looked at it as merely delaying the inevitable, providing a sense of anticipation that would only enhance the final gratification.

She knew however, that Janeway looked at it in terms of being thwarted, and if there was one thing that put the captain in a foul mood, it was repeatedly being stymied. That was a difference between the two women that fortunately, also complemented each. In the end, they would both achieve their satisfaction, but for different reasons. In the meantime, Seven put her desire aside and refused to give into her amusement over her partner's vexation.

"So are you going to open it now?" Naomi asked, looking on anxiously. She was sitting on a chair by the dining table, petting Jake who had his head on the child's lap, his eyes blissfully closed. He completely adored the Katarian girl.

"We will," Seven decided. "Kathryn, come sit with me on the couch while we open Naomi's gift."

Janeway stared at her a moment, obviously still feeling contrary, then seemed to realize this was not the time to be showing such resentment in front of the child. She attempted to smooth out her classic features and got up, moving over to the sofa beside her spouse.

"It's very pretty," she said, once she was settled, obviously forcing a smile. "Did you wrap it yourself, Naomi?"

"Yes, Captain," Naomi said proudly, pleased at the compliment.

Seven shot her partner a look of affection and Janeway blushed faintly, the last of her pique over the situation seeming to drain away. She inched closer so that her leg was touching Seven's, and put her hand on the small of the Borg's back, the warmth easily penetrating the thickness of the young woman's robe.

"Open it, darling," she requested.

"Yes, Kathryn," Seven responded obediently and began to carefully detach the paper of the inexpertly wrapped gift, discovering an excess of fastening compound which had been used to secure the wrapping. It required a great deal of prying to get it open, even with Seven's left implant, and by the time she was finished, she was aware of a faintly amused smile on her partner's face.

Seven lifted the gift free of the paper, looking at it with interest. Beside her, Janeway leaned forward, her eyes alight as she regarded the present, then glanced at the child who was looking bashfully at her feet.

"I made it myself," she said shyly.

"It's absolutely lovely, Naomi," Janeway said, taking it carefully from her spouse. It was an image, one that neither of the women had seen before, framed in wood covered by bright stones and seashells which had been attached with yet more copious amounts of fastening compound. "Where did you get the picture?"

It showed Janeway and Seven in their wedding outfits, posing beneath the rose arbor on the altar, while Naomi, holding a spray of silver roses, stood in front of them. Seven did not think her partner remembered the specific incident in question, judging from the bemused expression in her eyes, but then, if Seven's memory was accurate ... and she knew it was ... Janeway had been fortunate to actually make it through the ceremony and the subsequent events afterwards. It would be good to have this image for her partner to have for future reference.

"It is one that the Doctor held in his collection," Naomi responded, obviously pleased by the captain's enthusiasm. "It was taken on the day of your wedding. My Mom helped me pick it out."

"The frame is lovely," Seven noted. She looked approvingly at her little friend. "You have created a most attractive format in which to display this image."

"Does the Doctor have a great many of these pictures in his collection?" Janeway asked curiously.

Naomi nodded. "Yes," she revealed. "Sometimes he can't find special pictures, because he doesn't organize them very well, but he's been saving all the images he takes during all the events he attends. He says it's his 'hobby'."

"Maybe you can help him, Annika," Janeway suggested gently, obviously remembering when her partner had organized her own photos, much to her chagrin. Seven shot her an amused look and Janeway offered her a bit of a smirk.

"Perhaps I shall," the Borg returned blandly. "I can only imagine the various images he has taken since beginning his 'hobby' ... particularly of the ship's captain."

Janeway seemed to consider that for a moment, and from the expression that crossed her face, apparently did not like the direction her thoughts were going. Seven stifled her smile and stood up, taking the image over to the workstations where she positioned it predominately in a spot of honor, where both she and Janeway could see it as they worked. Naomi was pleased by the significant placement of her gift and beamed at her friend.

"Would you like something to drink, Naomi?" Janeway offered, once more the consummate hostess now that her aggravation had finally worn off.

"No, thank you, Captain," she replied politely. "I just stopped by to give you your present." She paused, eyeing the compact woman. "I did not mean to wake you up."

Janeway blushed faintly, clearly having forgotten that she was dressed only in her robe. Seven cleared her throat.

"Kathryn does not get to sleep in very often," Seven said honestly, if irrelevantly. She had learned to misdirect the conversation, even if she was still uncomfortable with lying. "But she is always glad to see you, Naomi."

"I am," Janeway said sincerely.

The child looked cheered by this, but shook her head.

"I have a class, Captain," she said. She made her way to the door, where she turned and looked at the women. "Happy Anniversary."

"Thank you, Naomi," Seven said.

The quarters seemed quite quiet after she exited and Seven discovered that she was looking speculatively at her partner. Janeway leaned back on the sofa and sighed.

"Don't even think about it," the captain warned. "We'll only end up being interrupted again and I don't know that I could take that."

Seven smiled and patted Jake who nosed her leg inquiringly. "Are you sure?" she prodded delicately.

The captain smiled. "You're trying to kill me, aren't you?" she said. But Seven noticed that the captain crossed her legs at that moment, the robe intriguingly falling open to reveal the length of them, as well as giving her a quick glimpse of the shadowy spot between them.

"With kindness, perhaps," Seven offered, interest rising sharp and keen within her. She quirked an eyebrow. "It occurs to me that we could attach our comm badges to Jake and let him loose in the rest of the ship. Anyone who might wish to find us would be occupied with tracking him down rather than interrupting us."

Janeway's smile widened. "That's perfectly devious, my darling," she said. "I'm so glad you're on my side. But it's impractical."

Seven shrugged briefly. "It was merely a thought," she said, amused, scratching her pet behind the ears.

Janeway regarded her a few moments longer, a rather familiar expression in her eyes, and the Borg waited patiently.

"Come here," the captain said finally, in a voice that sent a quiver down Seven's spine, and deliberatly uncrossed her legs.

Seven was captured totally by the remarkable gaze as she gave Jake a final pat, sending him away with a gentle push before moving lightly across the room to where her spouse waited. She placed her hands against the back of the couch, bracketing the captain as she leaned down to cover her spouse's mouth with her own, kissing her deeply. Returning the kiss, Janeway reached up to put her hands on Seven's shoulders, then trailing her fingertips up the Borg's neck, along her cheeks ... featherlight touches, moving back down the young woman's throat to her upper chest revealed in the 'V' of her robe, then slipping underneath. Not losing the connection of the kiss, Janeway tugged at the front of Seven's garment, pulling it away from the tie until it hung open.

Seven groaned deep her throat as Janeway cupped the Borg's breasts in her hands, lifting them as if weighing them, judging their mass and size and finding them pleasing indeed. Shifting herself so that she was fully supported by her left hand, Seven dropped the other to Janeway's lap, easing her hand into the slit at the front of Janeway's robe to touch the captain's leg, stroking it lovingly. They never stopped kissing, deep, gentle, soulful kisses that fully conveyed their desire, their attraction to each other, and Seven moved her touch further up her partner's thigh until she reached the thin, wiry hair at the juncture of her legs. Janeway made a sound deep in her throat as Seven combed luxuriously through it, not attempting anything further, merely indicating what lay ahead.

They were both breathing harshly when they finally broke apart. "Spread your legs, Kathryn," Seven whispered, nibbling at her partner's bottom lip. "I wish to use my mouth on you."

Making a sound, soft and yearning as she obeyed, the captain eased apart her thighs as Seven knelt between them, pushing aside the material of the gown while Janeway rested her hands lightly on her partner's shoulders. The Borg took a moment to appreciate the sight of her partner's intimate area, the delicate moistness, so vulnerable and ready for her, like a flower awaiting the delicate kiss of a butterfly. Seven inhaled deeply, closing her eyes blissfully as she savored the intoxicating scent of her beloved, exhaling gently, her warm breath flowing over the tender flesh. The captain's fingers tightened, anticipating, and Seven leaned ever nearer, her lips parting, the tip of her tongue extending...

The chime of the door made the captain utter a sound that was half sob, half strangled laughter. Dismayed, Seven opened her eyes, looking up to meet the defeated gaze of her partner.

"I," Janeway said deliberately, "am going into the ensuite where I will take the coldest shower possible before I get dressed. You should answer the door." She paused. "If I do it, the encounter may turn out to be fatal for someone."

"I understand," Seven said with distress.

She stood up and readjusted her robe, pulling the tie tight as Janeway made a beeline for the bedroom, the door sliding shut behind her with a hiss of finality. Seven did not curse, but she believed she could finally comprehend one's desire to do so. She hoped that whoever it was at the door would not say or do anything to further her irritation ... as the incident with Ro Laren showed, she was not truly capable of judging the power of her blows.

As it turned out, it was the Bajoran lieutenant at the door, accompanied by B'Elanna who immediately entered, brushing by the bemused Borg.

"Hey, Seven, Happy Anniversary," the Klingon said. She was carrying a large package which she shoved into Seven's arms. "This is from us."

"Thank you, B'Elanna," Seven said formally. "I appreciate your thoughtfulness." She flicked a glance at Ro. "Both of you."

Ro stood by the door, her hands linked behind her back. Obviously having accepted the off-duty rotation offered by the captain, both she and B'Elanna were dressed in civies, the Bajoran in a simple tunic with dark trousers while B'Elanna had gone for a tight t-shirt and baggy workout pants. Ro's dark eyes took in the quarters, and Seven with equal keenness. "Have we come at a bad time, Seven?" she asked calmly.

B'Elanna frowned, looking at Seven as if she was seeing her for the first time. "Kahless, Seven, you're not even dressed yet," she said. "It's almost lunchtime. Were you and the captain planning to spend the day in bed?"

Seven blushed and searched for a proper way to respond to that.

"We are intruding," Ro said, her tone a mix of regret and amusement.

"No," Seven said. "It ... Kathryn is in the ensuite now, dressing." She stifled her sigh. "You are not our first well-wishers today. Already, Commander Chakotay, Lt. Kim, Ensign Delaney and Naomi Wildman have visited."

"Oh, well, that's good," B'Elanna said, apparently oblivious to the hidden frustration lacing the Borg's tone. Ro seemed more cognizant of what Seven really meant, and there was a bit of a sympathetic expression on her face.

"Are you looking forward to the soiree this evening?" the Bajoran asked, changing the subject, apparently realizing that Seven did not want to talk about what her and the captain's original plans for the day might have been.

"It should be as big as last year's party, Seven," B'Elanna added with enthusiasm. "It was a good idea to get married on Prixin. Everyone gets to celebrate then."

"Yes," Seven said dryly. "That had not occurred to us before now, but it is apparent that this is an event for the entire ship to participate in, beyond our private celebration."

All three women looked around as the bedroom door hissed open and Janeway appeared, dressed in dark trousers and a blue t-shirt. "Ladies," she greeted politely.

"B'Elanna and Laren have brought us a present," Seven explained, holding the package up.

Janeway smiled graciously, not giving any indication of the aggravation that the day had brought her so far. She took it from Seven and placed it on the nearest workstation.

"Thank you," she told the two women with complete sincerity. "We truly appreciate your thinking of us." She shot a glance at Seven. "I left out fresh towels," she added to her partner, just as if this was any other day they were beginning. "I'm going to take Jake for his outing before lunch."

Ro started and nudged B'Elanna. "We'll see you this evening," she said, obviously taking the hint that the couple were not really prepared for visitors.

"No, stay," Seven offered impulsively. "I would appreciate the company while Kathryn takes Jake for his walk." She glanced at her partner. "He did miss his playtime yesterday so he will require double his usual outing. When you return, we can all have lunch together." Since it was clear that they would not be able to share this day alone together, Seven decided that they might as well share it with friends.

Janeway shot her a sardonic grin. "Why not," she allowed dryly. "Be sure to make lots. I'll be quite hungry by the time I get back."

Seven nodded. "I will," she promised, warmed by the amusement in her partner's eyes.

Ro and B'Elanna exchanged glances, obviously aware that the captain and Seven were communicating on some silent level. The Klingon shrugged and the pair moved into the room, finding seats on the sofa. Janeway retrieved Jake's leash, clipping it to the dog's collar, then paused by her partner on her way out the door, looking up at Seven with an opaque expression in her eyes, Jake tugging impatiently at her side. The Borg regarded her curiously, wondering what was coming next.

"I accept that we're not going to spend this day as we wanted," the captain murmured in a low tone that only the Borg could hear. "But don't anticipate getting a whole lot of sleep tonight or tomorrow. Once we've made our appearance at this party, we're coming directly back here and I'm going to make good on every single opportunity that we've missed this morning."

Seven swallowed hard.

"Yes, Kathryn," she said, dazed by the implication of what that meant exactly ... and wondering if she would survive it.

"Did you get the feeling we interrupted something," B'Elanna asked as she and Ro finally left the captain's quarters after lunch.

Ro shook her head, thinking about it. "No," she said. "Not exactly." She thought about it some more. "Actually, it was sort of an odd vibe there."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," the Klingon agreed. She tucked her arm in the crook of Ro's elbow to the Bajoran's surprise, but she didn't move away. "So, the party doesn't start until 1700 hours."

Ro raised an eyebrow. "That's when it starts, all right," she agreed.

"That gives us about four hours to kill," B'Elanna noted.

"That it does." Ro eyed her. "You have something in mind?"

B'Elanna colored faintly. "That depends," she said.

"On?"

"Whether you would want to, or not," the Klingon noted.

"Ah," Ro said. "How do I know whether I want to, or not, if I don't know what it is?"

B'Elanna's color deepened. "I think that you would," she said, with a delicacy that was completely unlike her. "But I'm not trying to push or anything."

Ro considered it. The two women had been through some rough times in the recent past, and while they had rebuilt their relationship to approximately where it had been before, they had yet to resume a physical intimacy, even after having spent the night together a week or so earlier. They were taking their time, making sure every step they took was the right one, aided by a new type of communication which was being painfully learned one level at a time.

"Let's go to your quarters and spend the afternoon," Ro suggested. "No expectations about what might happen, no regrets if nothing does."

B'Elanna nodded. "That sounds fair," she said, her shoulders relaxing as if she had been expecting a refusal. Ro wondered if they would ever get back that casual ease with each other that they had once shared, then realized that perhaps it was that refusal to look beyond the surface that had caused them so many problems in the first place. If it was a little harder to speak to each other at the moment, it was only because they were both trying hard to think before they spoke, and to take the time afterward to carefully consider what the other might really be saying before they responded. It was still awkward at times, but maybe it had to be.

B'Elanna's quarters were dimly illuminated and neither of them brought the lights up, content to find a seat on the sofa and snuggle together. That was another offshoot of the sessions they had been taking with Sek. The holographic counselor had suggested that rather than indulge in sex to avoid talking, they should instead, take the time to cuddle and allow any conversation to arise between them as a matter of course. It hadn't been easy, both women were naturally physical, and holding each other tended to lead to other things quite quickly. It had become a matter of will, almost a point of honor, to restrain themselves.

Sometimes Ro wondered if perhaps they were getting that part wrong. She had become quite familiar with the sensation of frustration over the last month or so, particularly after leaving B'Elanna's quarters to go back to her own after evenings of 'cuddling'. In fact, now that she thought about it, that was what she had been sensing in the captain's quarters. Perhaps Sek had been recommending 'restraint' to Seven as well, and if that were so, she could empathize with the captain.

However, she and B'Elanna tended to talk to each other far more now, and were coming to understand just how many assumptions and preconceptions they had of each other which had been completely and totally in error. She sighed faintly as she settled against the corner of the sofa, B'Elanna reclining easily against her, her solid form a comfortable weight against the Bajoran. Ro brushed her lips over the Klingon's head ridges, running her fingers through the wavy hair, feeling her breathing and heart rate slow perceptibly. She had to admit that she liked this part, the sense of peace they were managing to generate with each other.

At least, when they didn't have the heated urge to put their hands all over each other.

"I've been thinking," B'Elanna said idly, finding Ro's hand and holding it in her own, stroking it lightly with her fingertips.

"About?"

"What it would really mean for us to live together," B'Elanna said. "I know I was pushing hard for that not so long ago, but now I realize it wouldn't really have been fair to you. These are single quarters and not really set up for two people. When we move in together, we need to apply for double occupancy. These quarters would be worse than what you have with Dorado."

"Not worse," Ro corrected gently. She took a breath. "I do think of us sharing quarters, Lanna. I know I'm not the easiest person to live with, however. My duty shifts are erratic and I tend to like to go off by myself every so often. Dorado doesn't give a damn if I'm there or not. You would."

"I would," B'Elanna agreed. "It would be a big change, far more than I was allowing for when I got angry with you about it. You were right, we weren't ready."

"No," Ro said. "But we were ready for a change in the level of our relationship, and I didn't recognize it." She searched for the proper words. "You wanted more of a show of commitment from me, and I didn't see that. I'm sorry."

B'Elanna grinned crookedly. "I thought we weren't going to apologize for things we couldn't change," she said. "We were both bumbling around at that point, I think."

"Lanna," Ro offered hesitantly, "I bought you something during our last shore leave. I was hoping you'd accept it."

B'Elanna looked very interested. "What?" she asked.

"When a Bajoran settles on a single love, a token is offered to show that promise," Ro explained and she was amazed to hear how her voice was shaking slightly. "I was going to offer it to you tonight, but I think I'd rather give it to you now, while we're alone." She reached into her tunic and drew out a tiny box which she gave the Klingon. "It is not an offer of permanent binding as a marriage would be, but it is an offer of commitment to you, a token to indicate that I shall be only with you from now on. It might seem like a foolish gesture at this point, but I do honestly mean it."

B'Elanna seemed stunned, opening the box to reveal a single, simple earring, a stud with a deep ruby, like a drop of blood captured in the stone. The Klingon was aware of the significance of the jewelry in the Bajoran culture, and undoubtedly knew that this was not merely a token but indicative of something far greater. She swallowed hard, and glanced at her companion, her eyes suspiciously moist though Ro knew she would not want to cry at such a time, not wanting to appear too vulnerable. She understood it only too well because they were, in certain ways, two of a kind.

"I'll wear it on one condition," the engineer said huskily.

"That would be?" Ro asked, a certain trepidation in her heart.

"You move your earring from your left ear to your right," B'Elanna said. "You're not a betrayer, Laren. Not in any way."

Ro hesitated.

"Please," B'Elanna said soberly. "I don't believe it. No one on this vessel believes it. No one on Bajor would believe it. I just don't want you to believe it anymore, either."

Ro felt her chest hurt but she reached up and carefully removed the earring she had worn her entire life, and with B'Elanna's assistance, she transferred it to her other ear. And in doing so, there was a sense of freedom that came with it that she had not experienced for as long as she could remember ... not since she left that Bajor internment camp all those years ago.

Then, B'Elanna took her own stud and inserted it in her right ear. Ro winced because, until that moment, she had not realized that the Klingon did not have pierced ears. But apparently, that had not stymied the engineer and a thin line of pinkish blood trickled down B'Elanna's neck to stain the collar of her t-shirt.

"You always have to do things the hard way," Ro muttered, dabbing at it with a hankerchief that she had removed from her tunic's inner pocket.

"We're alike in that way," B'Elanna noted, observing her closely.

"We should put some cold water on that," Ro insisted.

"It'll clot," B'Elanna said dismissively, her eyes deep and dark, burning with a fever Ro had not seen in a while. The Klingon took a deep, shuddering breath. "Stay with me," she requested in a tone that left no question as to her meaning.

Ro regarded her, caught up by the heat in that simple query. "Yes," she responded quietly. "I will."

She thought B'Elanna would grab her then, but the Klingon instead remained very still, trembling with the effort, then very carefully she leaned closer and kissed the Bajoran softly, a tender kiss, loving and very gentle. Ro returned it, astounded by the sensation that shot through her with the power of that restraint, parting her lips and surrendering to the other woman. When they finally ended it, Ro was actually dizzy from the overwhelming emotion, and she wondered if somehow the creature had returned, projecting this incredibly breathtaking feeling of love and desire into her soul.

But this emotion was purely her own, shared by the other woman who stood up and reached down with her hands, pulling the Bajoran easily from the sofa and into her arms.

"Come with me," B'Elanna whispered, almost as if she was afraid of disturbing this moment which was weaving around them with an almost visible energy.

Ro felt her heart pound as she allowed herself to be drawn to the bed on the other side of the room, passive as B'Elanna unfastened the sapphire tunic, slipping it off her shoulders and dropping it onto the floor. They kissed again, deep, passionate kisses that nonetheless, remained tightly contained, as if giving into this would be too much, as if it would consume them if they were not careful to build this flame with the utmost care.

Ro struggled out of her trousers, then helped B'Elanna remove her own outfit, the clothes falling to the floor as they sank onto the bed. The Bajoran inhaled sharply as the body pressed tightly against hers, delighting in the fever heat of B'Elanna that was always present, the Klingon's natural body temperature higher than her own by several degrees. It inflamed her, and she held it close to her, trying to absorb it into herself.

"I love you," B'Elanna told her, her voice shaking, uncertain.

"I love you, too, Lanna," Ro responded, gasping for breath. "I'm yours. Always."

"bangwI'," the Klingon muttered, her hands roaming over Ro with familiar and skilled intent, yet unfamiliar with how very gentle they were, how tenderly they touched her. "Mine."

Ro groaned, the body moving over hers, and blindly, she reached out, somehow finding what she was looking for, pressing her face against her lover's full breasts. A fat, brown nipple, sweet and plump, filled her mouth and she tasted it with joy and delight, using her tongue and teeth to stimulate it, knowing what the young woman wanted. B'Elanna cried out, clutching the Bajoran's head to her, forcing more of the breast into Ro's mouth, accepted willingly and eagerly by her. Somehow, in their passion, they fell into a position that was new to them, but their response was immediate, knowing it to be right and perfect, fitting together as B'Elanna dragged dual clitori over Ro's f'lar ridges, their moisture bathing the connection with sizzling pleasure.

"Oh, prophets," Ro moaned, having to draw back from the breasts in order to breathe, gasping desperately as her hands took over where her lips had left off, squeezing lovingly.

B'Elanna's fingers found the ridges that radiated from Ro's nipples, stroking them even as her hips stroked her wetness over Ro, each ridge and bump laved passionately as they moved together, the flame roaring far out of control now. The Bajoran had never felt anything like it as the sensation crashed over her like a solid sheet of fire, searing her through and through with the consummation of this inferno between them.

As Ro's rapture finally ebbed, she looked up at her lover crouched over her, still striving for her own release though from all indications, the Klingon was so very, very close. B'Elanna trembled, shaking from the pulsations which had her firmly in their grip, quivering on the verge of complete surrender. Her eyes met Ro's helplessly, then closed as her head went back and she cried out loudly, the wash of gratification and desire claiming her utterly.

At that moment, from completely out of nowhere, a furry blue streak launched itself from the top of a nearby cabinet and made a perfect four-point landing on the Klingon's bare back. B'Elanna shrieked, not only from the depth of her orgasm, but the sheer surprise that was almost enough to shut down her nervous system. The sensation of four sets of claws raking brief furrows into her skin before the B'Rethna scrambled off her and slithered into a nearby vent which led to the rest of the ship was actually less shocking, but not by much.

Startled, astounded, Ro did not scream, but she did utter a brief curse as she held her lover, making sure that the Klingon did not fly completely apart from the jolt her pet had just provided.

Silence descended upon them, the only sound, the rasp of their breathing, though Ro would swear that she could hear the resumption of B'Elanna's heart after a temporary cessation of rhythm, pounding much harder than could possibly be good for her.

"Are you all right?" Ro asked finally, her voice low. "I don't think it's ever done that before."

B'Elanna regarded her, wide-eyed. "I'm going to kill it," she said. "You know that."

"I'll hold it down for you," Ro offered, never having liked the alien pet B'Elanna had acquired by accident months earlier. She had thought they had achieved a sort of truce, but now she was left wondering if the creature resented her renewed presence in the life of her mistress. "We'll just have to find it now."

"Oh god," B'Elanna hissed, slumping down on top of the Bajoran who accepted the weight willingly, cradling the young woman in her arms comfortingly. "I'm surprised I survived that at all."

"Have to admire the timing," Ro agreed. "If one wanted to kill from sheer shock, that would just about do it."

B'Elanna offered a muffled laugh, her face buried between Ro's breasts. "Not that," she clarified, lifting her head to look Ro warmly in the eyes. "You. Us. What just happened. It was incredible."

The Bajoran lifted an eyebrow. "That it was," she allowed, thinking about it. She swallowed, hard. "Words fail me, actually." She reached behind B'Elanna, feeling the wetness of blood and sweat mingling on the Klingon's back. "I will say, you've certainly offered your share of bodily fluids for this joining."

"Worth every drop," B'Elanna said, snuggling closer to the Bajoran, brushing her lips over Ro's chest.

Ro smiled. "Let me get go get a dermal regenerator and fix those scratches for you," she said. "I think we have one in the security department."

"Later," B'Elanna said, kissing her neck. "They're not deep and we still have a couple of hours before the party. I certainly don't want to let you out of bed now that I've got you in it finally."

Ro smiled.  "Sounds good to me," she admitted and pulled her close.

Janeway raised an eyebrow as she saw the earring adorning her chief engineer's right ear. The captain wasn't completely familiar with all the various traditions and gestures performed by every culture represented on Voyager, but she had a pretty good idea that it was significant of something Bajoran. Particularly in regards to B'Elanna's relationship with Ro Laren, though perhaps Janeway hadn't needed to see the earring for that. The two women were completely wrapped up in each other as they went through the buffet line, exchanging glances that would have ignited anything flammable that might get between them.

"Looks like they're back together," Chakotay noted, from his place at the captain's right shoulder. Seven had parted from the captain not long after they had entered the messhall and was now with the children who had commandeered one corner of the room as their play area.

"I'm not sure what the problem was," Janeway agreed, "But you're right. Whatever it was, seems to be resolved for now."

"Maybe B'Elanna and I can make some peace now," Chakotay said thoughtfully. "That'll help me with Ro, as well."

Janeway frowned, glancing at her first officer. "Are you having problems with Lt. Ro's training?" she asked.

He glanced away. "Not really, Captain," he said. "Just some baggage there from having both been involved with the same woman, as well as a little bit of lingering tension over her originally being in my resistance cell, knowing that Tuvok was a plant and not saying anything."

She eyed him, not pleased to hear this at all, and it made her wonder if perhaps she should have undertaken Ro's training personally. She hadn't initially because she had not wanted Chakotay to feel as if she was lining up replacements for him, but it was possible that she had not made the right decision. If Chakotay was unable to give Ro the proper instruction...

"We'll resolve it, Captain," he assured her. "It will just take a little time."

Janeway nodded. "Very well," she said mildly. "I'll leave it in your hands."

Her eye was caught by her partner who was down on the deck with the children who were crawling on the rug. Seven's face was alight, her pale eyes sparkling, and Janeway knew that if she could spare her from astrometrics as well as all the other crucial areas of the ship she assisted in, the Borg would happily spend all her time in the nursery. As it were, however, Seven's duties kept her from even volunteering to participate in the daycare program, something that the captain regretted profoundly.

Janeway drifted over, smiling as she saw Little Harry, who was quite familiar with the Borg, grab the blonde hair and hold her immobile as the other babies crawled over her.

"Do you require a rescue, Seven?" she asked.

Seven, her face obscured by the child wrapped around her head, managed a smile.

"Perhaps a little, Captain," she responded.

Janeway laughed, and along with a few of the caretakers, freed the young woman from the floor. Seven uncoiled from the deck, towering over the little ones about her feet, then stepped gracefully out of the little corral which had been set up to contain the children. Janeway took her spouse's arm and drew her over to the buffet.

"I know you haven't eaten yet," she said, smiling as she saw how her partner's hair was mussed, strands falling about her narrow features. "Try the cheese puffs. I think Neelix has actually improved on your recipe."

"It is Gretchen's recipe," Seven corrected. "Is that possible?"

She took one of the little pastries and chewed it thoughtfully. Neelix, who was behind the table making sure all the dishes remained full, looked on anxiously, having heard the captain's comment to her spouse. Seven's eyes widened in surprise.

"It is very good," the Borg said, surprise edging her tone, and she looked approvingly at the bashfully pleased Neelix. "In fact, it is a most excellent version. What did you add to give such tartness to the filling?"

Leaving Seven and Neelix to swap baking tips, Janeway filled her plate and made her way over to a table where most of her senior staff had set up housekeeping. Tom Paris graciously moved his chair over, providing room for the captain to join them, as well as her spouse who belatedly made her way over a few moments later.

Janeway dug into her meal, finding a sort of enjoyment in this communal setting that she had not always appreciated. As each year passed on Voyager, the sense of family, and the village it was creating, grew more and more profound, as well as making the captain very much part of it. It made Janeway wonder what would happen once they returned to the Alpha Quadrant. After all, what worked on this single, isolated vessel out here, was not exactly standard operating procedure in the rest of Starfleet. How would her crew adapt?

How would she adapt, for that matter?

She realized that she had paused in mid-chew and resumed her consumption of the selection of foods she had chosen at the buffet. Beside her, Seven, between bites of her own meal, was deep in a technical discussion with Harry and Tom. Janeway could feel the length of the Borg's leg pressed against hers beneath the table, taking comfort from it and allowing the hum of the various conversations around the table to wash over her, driving away the sudden concerns she had. After all, it wasn't like they were home yet, and unless something new came up, they weren't likely to be for a good many years. She had to keep that in mind.

Her attention was taken by Sek who was seated next to B'Elanna and Ro. Though she did not eat, the crew always tried to include both holograms in everything, particularly lately as Sek and the Doctor became less the outsiders and more a part of the whole. The ship's counselor seemed a trifle disconcerted however, undoubtedly from the events of the day before, and Janeway looked down at her plate, frowning faintly as she carefully eavesdropped on the conversation.

"I'm not saying you're empathic, Sek," B'Elanna pronounced. "All we know for sure is that the creature was, and it matched your matrix output which allowed you to channel the creature's emotions into the six people you were with the day before."

"And Francis died," Sek said in a small voice.

Janeway lifted her head, shooting a sharp glance in the general vicinity of the three females. It occurred to her to wonder who counseled the counselor? Or if she should step in at this point.

"He died because of the malfunction of his heart," Ro pointed out in a stern, yet not unkind voice. "It was unfortunate, but certainly not your fault. Do we blame the creature for getting caught? Listen Sek, there'll be plenty of times where you'll mess up in the course of your career. Don't go looking for reasons to feel guilty when eventually, you'll have more than enough for real."

"Right, cheer her up with optimism," B'Elanna noted dryly. "Sek, what happened to Francis was just a bad combination of events. Yes, it could have turned out better, but it could have turned out a hell of a lot worse, too."

"I don't know how to balance a life like that," Sek said grimly.

"You'd better learn, if you're going to be in Starfleet," Ro noted. She took a breath, then offered a gentler expression to Sek. "Look, I could pat you on the head and give you all sorts of platitudes about life and death, but you know that's all they would be. You've accepted the role of ship's counselor. It puts you in a position of authority, of being responsible for others that have come to trust you. This is part of it, the unfortunate part. If you need a shoulder, we're here for that; if you need advice, we'll give you our best. Ultimately, however, all you can really do is learn from what happens and do your best to apply that knowledge to the future so that you lessen that chances of something bad happening to someone else. Otherwise, you're just feeling sorry for yourself, and that's a waste of time."

There was a silence, then Sek glanced at Ro. "That's pretty harsh," she said and Janeway held her breath, wondering which way this would go.

"It's what a counselor once told me," Ro responded evenly.

When Sek laughed, Janeway realized which counselor it had been that had offered such sage advice to the Bajoran lieutenant. So that was who counseled the Counselor, the captain thought wistfully, those whom she had counseled. Fortunately, Sek seemed able to accept such support. It had taken Janeway five long years, and a Borg getting in her face everyday in the final one, to arrive at the same conclusion. She wondered if that made the hologram's programming more comprehensive than the captain's own instincts.

Of course, considering some of the messes she had gotten herself into, Jake's training was more comprehensive than Janeway's instincts, at times. She shook her head, shaking off such depressing thoughts and refocusing on the matter at hand. A quick glance over at her partner confirmed that Seven was still completely immersed in her conversation with the two bridge crewmembers, which was exactly what the older woman wanted. The captain scooped up her empty plate and stood up, pleased when her spouse still did not indicate that she had noticed Janeway's departure in any way.

Unobtrusively, the captain crossed the messhall and deposited her plate in the stack waiting to be returned to the replicator pattern buffer, then wound her way through the crowd. Often she was stopped for discussion with one crewmember or another, but the conversations were usually brief, and before long, she had managed to make it to the doors. Out in the corridor, she moved swiftly to the turbolift, her stride brisk and purposeful.

"Deck three," she instructed. "Computer, inform me when Seven of Nine exits the messhall."

"Acknowledged," the smooth tones of the ship's main computer responded.

In her quarters, Janeway stripped off the simple blouse and trousers she had chosen for the party, smiling as she remembered the faint disappointment in her partner's eyes over what she had chosen to wear. Seven had not commented on it, but the captain knew that the young woman had hoped Janeway would have worn something more 'special' for the evening. But then, Seven had no way of knowing that the party in the messhall was not going to be the true celebration of their anniversary. That would take place here, and if Janeway had just enough time before the Borg noticed her absence, she might even be able to finish all the necessary preparations.

Quickly she put out the candles that she had stored for just this purpose, then found the present she had stashed in the compartment in her workstation, placing it next to the rest that they had received earlier in the day. Dashing into the ensuite, she took a quick shower, more to refresh herself than because she had gotten particularly dirty during the course of the party. She would have preferred a bath, of course, just for the way it made her feel, but Seven could notice that her partner was missing at any moment, and make her way home. Out of the shower, Kathryn hastily dabbed perfume at her pulse points, dried and brushed out her hair, then went into her closet.

From a compartment there, she drew out a long, slinky, ebony nightgown. She had replicated it especially for her wedding night one year earlier, but unfortunately, the day's events had so exhausted her partner that Seven had fallen asleep before even having a chance to see Kathryn in it. It had been carefully packed away, the captain deciding to save it for some future, special event, and tonight seemed the proper time to finally wear it.

Kathryn pulled it on over her head, feeling it slip whisper soft over her skin, brushing against her most sensitive areas with a delicate appeal. Her nipples hardened pleasantly beneath the silky material and she smiled, feeling quite wonderfully wicked and exceptionally alive, every nerve ending alert and ready. She took another glance in the mirror over the sink, noting the faint color in her cheeks, the sparkle in her eyes, and her smile widened devilishly.

Really, Seven would be quite fortunate to last the night, she thought.

She moved out into the living room, looking over her hasty preparations before rearranging some of the candles to more appropriate areas on the shelves and tables. A command to the internal environmental settings raised the temperature marginally and initiated the selection of music she had chosen for the evening; the soft strains of guitar strings and violins making a romantic overture to the ever present, low hum of the warp engines. In the kitchenette, she retrieved from its spot at the back of the cooling unit, a special bottle of champagne she had been holding onto for quite some time. Replicating some ice, she filled the silver bucket they kept on hand, and jammed the bottle into it, then found a spare towel beneath the counter before carrying it all over to the coffee table where she positioned it as appealingly as she could, standing back a little to judge the visual effect critically.

Champagne flutes were not regular issue in their every day life, so she spent two of her precious rations to replicate two elegant glasses, which sparkled with the unique luster that such finely cut crystal produced. After depositing them on the table next to the ice bucket, she found a lighter to ignite the candles, bringing the ship lights down until the room was illuminated only by the profusion of flickering flames around the area, casting a most romantic glow over the entire setting.

The voice of the computer startled her as she was standing in the center of the living area, appreciating the overall atmosphere she had created.

"Seven of Nine has exited the messhall."

Kathryn hastily put the lighter away and popped the cork on the champagne bottle, uttering a curse as it overflowed slightly and dripped onto the surface of the table.

"Computer, place a level six privacy seal on her communicator," she instructed, mopping up the spill quickly with the towel and shoving the cloth unceremoniously under the couch. "Do the same for mine, and once Seven of Nine has entered these quarters, seal the door with a priority level locking protocol. Authorization Janeway, blue, nine, three, seven, one, red."

"Acknowledged," the computer responded placidly as Kathryn poured a glass full of the bubbly champagne, then carefully arranged herself on the sofa with it, draping the nightgown artistically around her legs, wiggling slightly to get herself into position as the door to their quarters hissed open, revealing her partner, who had a concerned expression on her face as she entered.

An expression that cleared immediately when she saw the vision that Kathryn had so carefully arranged for her benefit.

Seven wasn't sure when the captain left the party. All she knew was that when she went to look for her, she simply couldn't find her. She checked with the computer and discovered that Kathryn was in her quarters, and a more specific check revealed that Janeway had actually left the messhall almost an hour earlier. It wasn't like Kathryn to leave a social event without her, nor was it like Seven not to have noticed her exit. Considerably disturbed, Seven made her excuses and hurried to her quarters where she discovered Kathryn reclining on the sofa, dressed in a wickedly black night gown, holding a flute of champagne.

"I knew you'd miss me and come home sooner or later," the captain said huskily, holding up her glass of golden liquid, bubbles rising silver in the candlelight, which was the only illumination in the quarters. "So I thought we'd have the wedding night we didn't the first time."

Seven took a deep breath and relaxed, feeling her anxiety dissipate. "I am certainly not as tired as I was that night," she admitted. She glanced around the room, taking note of the music playing softly in the background. "Where is Jake?"

"Neelix and Samantha came by while we were at the party and took him to Neelix's quarters for the evening," Kathryn explained. "It was their anniversary gift to us." She shifted, bending her knee to reveal that her nightgown had a slit that allowed the length of her leg to appear. "We have the place entirely to ourselves tonight."

Seven felt her pulse increase, throbbing along her temples and neck.

"I believe ... I shall change, as well," she said.

"Don't take too long," Kathryn commanded with a lidded gaze, her voice provocative, full of enticement.

"I shall not," Seven promised fervently.

She moved swiftly into the bedroom and shed her outfit, exchanging it for a pair of silver, silk pyjamas ... the very same pyjamas she had worn on her wedding night. A year earlier, much to her great humiliation, she had been so exhausted by the events of the day, she had fallen asleep while Kathryn had been in the ensuite, preparing for the night that never was. She was determined that history would not repeat itself in any fashion.

When she returned to the living area, Kathryn was standing by the sofa, pouring a second glass of champagne from the bottle on the coffee table. She smiled sensually as she passed it to Seven who brought it up to her face, sniffing delicately to judge its bouquet. The bubbles tickled the Borg's nose, and she smiled as she regarded her spouse.

"You look very beautiful, Kathryn," she said softly, feeling suddenly shy for some reason. "I have never seen you in that gown before."

"Thank you, darling," Kathryn responded gently. "I've been saving it for ... oh, twelve months now." She smiled and clinked her glass to Seven's, the delicate ting of crystal sending a shiver of pleasure through the Borg. Her classic features were full of devotion and love as she regarded her spouse. "On this day, one year ago, you made my life complete, Annika. Here's to us."

Seven reached out, putting her hand over her partner's, forestalling her drinking the toast before she was able to make her own.

"One year ago, you united our separate paths, making them one," she said quietly. "Without you, I am but a drone, unfeeling, emotionless, unable to find my way in this universe alone. I raise my glass to you, my darling Kathryn, to the exceptional and special being that you are, who has helped me discover all I am meant to be. I am yours completely, and always shall be, for the rest of eternity."

Kathryn blushed furiously, obviously pleased by the toast. "You've become such a sweet talker," she mumbled. "And getting better at it with every passing year."

Together, they lifted their champagne, never taking their eyes off the other as they sipped, then Kathryn took Seven's arm, tucking her hand in the crook of her elbow as she drew her down to the sofa.

"I put a seal on the door," she explained. "As well as one on our communicators. No one can reach us for the rest of the night or tomorrow unless it's a red alert, and if the crew thinks that's rude, they'll just have to get over it. I know it's not a second honeymoon, darling, but perhaps it's the best we can expect this year."

"That is much appreciated, Kathryn," Seven said, meaning it. They settled on the couch, Seven leaning back against the cushions, Kathryn, half turned toward her, her leg tucked up under the other one, resting her chin on thumb and forefinger as she leaned on her elbow. She looked far more patient than she had earlier in the day and the Borg smiled, sipping more of her champagne.

"What?" Kathryn prodded gently.

Seven shook her head. "I am just remembering how irritated you were earlier today," she said.

Kathryn chuckled. "Do you blame me?"

Seven glanced at her. "Not at all," she said, her tone amused. "I too, was frustrated by the day's events. It was not how I anticipated it would go. Perhaps for our next anniversary, you shall not accord the crew R&R on the same day, thus freeing them to interrupt ours."

"Good point," the captain said, still smiling. "I'll keep that in mind."  She took a sip of her champagne, a thoughtful expression crossing her face.  "Heaven knows where we'll be a year from now. I think I should start planning now for what I'm going to do for you."

"Anything you do for me will be wonderful," Seven told her gravely.

She decided not to tell her partner that the one thing she wanted most lately was for her and Kathryn to go off by themselves for a week or so, just the two of them, out of reach of their crewmates or the ship or just anything that hinted at duty or responsibility. Seven was aware, however, that Kathryn was simply not able to accede to such a request, and it would only make the captain feel bad if she thought Seven desired something that she was incapable of giving her. So instead, the Borg leaned over and kissed the captain sweetly, trying to show how much she adored her with a physical gesture if nothing else.

Kathryn was smiling faintly when they parted, her eyes shaded a deep blue with just a touch of grey to make them soft and loving. Seven nuzzled her briefly before she drew back entirely. "I am so happy at this moment, Kathryn," she said quietly.

"I feel the same," Kathryn whispered. She raised an eyebrow, making an expression as if she were listening closely. At Seven's uncomprehending look, she smiled. "I'm just afraid that we'll be interrupted again, even with the seal on the communicator."

"If they do," the Borg said sternly, "I shall have to familiarize them with the concept of assimilation."

Kathryn shivered dramatically. "Ooh," she muttered. She lifted her glass out of the way so that she could move closer to the young woman, reaching out to slip her hand around to the back of Seven's neck. "My hero."

"For you, I am most pleased to accept that role," Seven noted, pulling Kathryn tight to her with one arm as she put her champagne down on the coffee table. "Tell me, Kathryn, did you have this evening planned precisely, or are you open to suggestions?"

Kathryn laughed huskily. "I'm always open to suggestions, love," she revealed, putting her own champagne down. She slipped one arm around Seven's neck, then her other hand along the Borg's chest, still cool from the glass, penetrating the silk material. "What would you like us to do on this most special of nights, our first anniversary."

"First, I have a gift for you," Seven said, running her fingertips lightly along Kathryn's cheek, delighting in the soft skin, inhaling the woman's fragrance which had been enhanced by the intoxicating perfume the captain enjoyed, but wore so rarely. "It would please me greatly to give it to you now."

"Of course," Kathryn said, her voice warm. "I would have been astounded if there had not been a gift from you." She paused. "You know, I have one for you, as well. It's over with the rest that we haven't opened yet."

Seven colored faintly. "I had hoped," she admitted bashfully. "Shall we open them all?"

Kathryn kissed her gently. "Whatever you want to do, my beloved," she said. She sobered, drawing back to look into the Borg's eyes. "Darling, I know that I haven't always been able to provide the proper celebrations on special days in the past. I want this night to be absolutely perfect for you."

Seven cupped her partner's cheek, searching her eyes. "You are perfection," she said softly. "Kathryn, please do not ever regret missed celebrations that circumstances of duty and responsibility have forced upon us. Every moment I spend with you is a celebration, every time I see your face, it is like the first time, and my heart fills as if this emotion is fresh and new. If this night is perfect for me ... as I am sure it will be ... it is because you are with me, not because of anything you might do. You are all I require at any time."

Kathryn stared at her, seeming to be utterly captivated, then forced herself to take a breath, and Seven realized that for some reason, the captain had been holding it. The marvelous blue-grey eyes were glistening as she cleared her throat of some obstruction that had suddenly appeared in it.

"Darling, I ... I'm speechless," she said huskily. "I don't believe that anyone has ever been able to make me as completely weak in the knees as you do with just your words. I promised you on our wedding day that I would never hold back any part of myself from you. I know that sometimes it has seemed that I've distanced myself for whatever reason, but always know; you hold my heart, my soul, my life. I am totally yours in every way."

Seven felt her heart ache from the sheer joy of the moment as she gazed into her partner's eyes. There seemed very little that she could say at this moment that would not be redundant or insufficient. Instead, she pulled Kathryn to her, hugging her as tightly as the cpatain's purely Human form would allow.

"I love you so much, Kathryn," she whispered in the woman's ear.

"I love you too, my darling Annika," Kathryn said back, nuzzling her lovingly. "Seven of Mine, you are my heart."

It took a few moments before either of them were willing to release the embrace, and then it was only to draw back enough to kiss with a tenderness that was beyond desire, yet still included that promise in the exchange of lips and breath and touch.

"Mmm, the gifts?" Kathryn murmured after they finally parted.

"Yes," Seven said, finding it difficult to focus. Her head was spinning and she wondered if somehow, this night could get any better. She swallowed and deliberately inched away from her spouse until she was able to stand. "I will bring them over."

Janeway smiled knowingly at her as the Borg went over to the workstations and retrieved the pile of presents, noting the larger one which had been wrapped in shiny, red paper, a delicate white bow on the top. Somehow, she knew that one was from Kathryn and her anticipation grew.

"One moment," Seven requested, after depositing them on the coffee table, next to the ice bucket. "I must retrieve the one I have for you."

"Where is it?" Janeway asked curiously as Seven moved over to the kitchenette counter. "I never came across it." Then she paused, looking mildly embarrassed. "Not that I searched for it or anything," she added weakly.

Seven shot her an amused glance as she activated the locking mechanism she had built within one of her spice cabinets. She had not thought that Kathryn would notice that an addition had been constructed within one of the compartments, and as she drew out the present, noting the expression in her partner's eyes, she realized that speculation was true. Of course, now that the captain knew of it, Seven would have to find another hiding place for her surprises.

"We should open Chakotay's first," Seven said. "Since he delivered his so early."

"Bless his heart," the captain said, in a tone that indicated that was not what she meant at all. Seven eyed her with amusement as she handed the gift to her partner to open.

"Hmm," Janeway muttered as she unwrapped the box and pried open the top. "What the hell is that?"

Seven lifted out the small wooden sculpture, looking at it from all angles. It was short, squat and incredibly ugly. Seven utterly adored it.

"I know where he got this," Seven allowed. "I also considered acquiring it, but Commander Chakotay talked me out of it. Now I know why."

Janeway had an odd expression on her face. "That was ... good of him," she said, dryly.

Seven's smile widened, her teeth bright in the candlelight. "You do not understand, Kathryn," she explained. "It is a totem from the last system we gathered supplies from. In a small shop in the market place, small items like this were sold by the craftsman himself. This is a 'torelth', intended to inspire good fortune and fertility on the joined couple who keeps it in their abode."

"Ah," Janeway said, in the sort of voice that indicated that she didn't believe it for a second, but didn't want to argue about it. "I must remember to ... thank my first officer for the gesture. Uh, maybe you should take it with you to decorate astrometrics."

Seven cast her an exasperated look. "On the contrary, Kathryn," she said. "It must go above our bed to inspire increased coupling."

Janeway actually laughed out loud at that one. "Since when have we ever needed help for that?" she asked, still chuckling as she handed Seven the second present, this one from Harry Kim and Megan Delaney. "Let's see what else we've acquired."

This was another image, undoubtedly from the collection of the Doctor again, and Seven decided she really must take the time to go through the files to see what exactly the hologram had taken over the years. She pressed her lips tightly together as she saw it and wondered how the EMH had managed to be in the right place at the right time to capture it. It showed the captain, Seven and Jake in the ship's new park, with Little Harry. Seven remembered that particular babysitting session fondly though certainly at the time, it had seemed a somewhat disorganized situation.

"Oh god," Janeway muttered when she saw it. "I look like a wild woman. My hair's sticking up all over the place and I look completely panicked, not at all like what a Starfleet captain should look."

"You were attempting to keep Little Harry from eating Jake's bone," Seven informed her. "While keeping Jake from reprimanding him in his own canine fashion."

A crooked smile ghosted over Janeway's lips as she looked at it. "Meanwhile, you're just sitting there on the picnic blanket like some Madonna with an amused smile on your lips, not helping me at all." She reached over with her elbow and nudged Seven in the ribs. "Next time, I'm staying on the bridge."

"You know you enjoy it," Seven said, dismissing the complaint immediately. She picked up the next gift, this one from Ro and B'Elanna and shook it experimentally. "I believe it is material of some sort."

"Let's hope Ro managed to temper B'Elanna'smore enthusiastic taste in gift giving," Janeway noted as she took it from Seven and began to open it. "Remember the knives she gave you for your birthday?"

"I do," Seven said, not understanding her partner's objection. "They are very useful."

"They're not intended to be used to cut up vegetables," Janeway explained. "They're meant to be displayed on the wall or used on your enemy. That's why she got such a strange expression on her face the first time she came over to lunch after giving them to you, and watched you make a stirfry with them."

"I did not know that," Seven noted with surprise, filing that away in her memory to address at some future time with the Klingon.

Janeway withdrew a mat of some kind from the box, regarding it suspiciously. "Oh, god," she said.

"What is it?" Seven asked, unsure of why the captain was objecting.

"It's a mat," Janeway said.

Seven arched a brow. "I can ascertain that," she said mildly.

"It's a 'sleeping' mat from Rissa," Janeway said. "Heaven knows how long she or Ro has had it."

"Is that significant?" Seven asked.

"Seven, Rissa is a 'pleasure planet'," Janeway said. "Mats like this are sold to couples who like ... uh, making love outside of the bedroom. Even though they're quite thin and roll up into quite a compact package, they're supposed to fully cushion the hardness of the ground ... or deck plating, for example."

"That was quite thoughtful of them," Seven offered, immediately seeing several useful applications for such a gift.

"I want to know where B'Elanna might have gotten the idea that we sometimes make love somewhere other than a bed," Janeway said, casting a bit of a stern look at her partner. "Specifically, in other parts of the ship?"

"Look," Seven said brightly, picking up the next present, "a gift from Tom Paris. He stopped by while you were taking Jake on his walk. Tuvok also dropped one by later in the afternoon."

Janeway held the glance a little longer, but apparently realizing she wasn't going to get any further information at the moment, relaxed her stance slightly. However, her expression let Seven know that it would be brought up again at some future date. The Borg quailed slightly. How was she going to tell Kathryn that B'Elanna once saw them making love under the ship while the Klingon had been on the hull where she wasn't supposed to be? Honestly, B'Elanna had no sense of discretion at all. Even Seven had learned to be more circumspect about hinting that she knew things that she probably shouldn't know. She just wondered why Ro had gone along with it, then realized that the Bajoran perhaps did not know the significance of the gift beyond merely wishing Janeway and Seven a happy and healthy love life with it.

Tom's gift was a bottle of wine that Janeway happily added to her collection, while Tuvok had presented the couple with a set of Vulcanoid candle holders, which went perfectly on the shelf by the bedroom.

"It occurs to me that we did far better in the gift department for our anniversary than we did with the wedding," Janeway noted, sipping her champagne. "We're really starting to accumulate a great many items for our quarters."

"That is because the crew's gift to us was the wedding itself, along with the honeymoon in the holodeck," Seven reminded her. "However, I will note that the ship seems 'wealthier' this year."

Janeway considered that. "You mean, people are not so reluctant to acquire things," she said. "To make this more of a home." Her eyes grew distant as she looked at the concept from all angles. "I think you're right. Having children on board has made us more of a 'settlement'. The crew is putting down roots, even though they might not realize it."

"Is that not good?" Seven queried. "Were you not concerned with our new communiqués, that they perhaps would be looking forward to going home to the extent they would become restless and discontented?"

"I know, but perhaps what is happening is the new communication with Starfleet is causing exactly the opposite," Janeway responded thoughtfully. "Possibly with this connection of the Federation, they can now let themselves feel at 'home' on Voyager." She paused. "I'm not sure that makes sense yet, but maybe I'll talk it over with Sek a bit. She may have some insight into this that I'm missing."

"I'm sure Sek shall enjoy discussing it with you," Seven noted. She regarded the last two gifts on the table, as yet unwrapped. "Kathryn, would you like to open my gift first?"

Janeway smiled at her, putting down her glass. "Of course, darling," she said. "I can't wait."

Seven was pleased by the show of anticipation from the captain, though she suspected that a certain proportion of it was generated purely for her benefit. Janeway tended not to derive the same overwhelming entertainment from receiving gifts that Seven did, but she did truly hope that her partner would like what she had given her.

"Oh, darling," Janeway said, lifting the lid of the finely crafted wooden box, looking down at its contents with astounded pleasure. "These can't possibly be what I think they are."

Seven offered a rueful smile. "They are smokesticks," she admitted. "A replication of the kind you have encountered before although these contain no addictive or harmful elements in their makeup. I must admit that I was somewhat more enthusiastic in my protectiveness of your health than perhaps I was required to be in the past. I will ask that you not smoke them in our quarters, but I will not object when you take them with you on your evening walks with Jake."

Janeway put one under her nose, sniffing appreciatively, then regarded her partner fondly. "Darling, you are too good to me," she said, placing the cylinder back with the others in the box. "I know these must have taken a lot of replicator rations and I promise, I won't overindulge with them as I have in the past. In fact, I'll want to make these last as long as possible."

Seven nodded, not bothering to inform the captain that she had altered the chemical makeup of the weeds so that any smoke which went into the captain's lungs would be comprised of a combination of elements which actually had a healing effect. Seven suspected that if she told Janeway that this particular version of the cigarillos was actually good for her, the captain would not be able to derive as much enjoyment out of them as she otherwise would. The Borg did not know why that was so, but decided it was another aspect of Kathryn's 'Humanness' that Seven had yet to achieve.

Janeway leaned over and kissed Seven sweetly. "Now my gift," she said. "I hope you like it as much as I do mine."

"I'm sure I shall," Seven said as she took the present onto her lap, admiring the aesthetic qualities of the paper and the way the bow had been affixed to it. To the Borg, receiving a gift took on many layers of emotional expression, and she tried to appreciate every aspect of the process, lingering over each moment it took to fully experience it. Sitting next to her, Janeway smiled fondly, seeming to take pleasure in her partner's deliberate approach to opening her gift.

Seven carefully unfastened the paper at the places it was bonded ... the Borg noticing that Kathryn used far less fastening compound than Naomi had ... and placed the intact square of paper aside with the rest of the discarded wrapping. The bow she detached, and to Janeway's surprise and amusement, placed it against the captain's hair, where it remained like some form of flower sprouting from her head.

"You will always be the best gift I have ever received," she told her by way of explanation as she leaned over and kissed her.

Turning her attention back to her present, Seven opened the box carefully, lifting out the garment as she felt her breath catch in her throat.

"It is beautiful, Kathryn," she whispered, regarding the new dress with glowing eyes.

"I'm glad you like it," Janeway said. "I acquired the material on Ginse, and the replicator pattern constructed it in exactly your size." She paused, then looked bashful. "Obviously, seeing you in it will be as much a present for me as it is for you."

Seven leaned over and kissed her. "Thank you," she said sincerely. "It is a most wonderful gift ... for both of us."

Janeway placed her hand at the back of the Borg's neck, holding her still as Seven abortively attempted to draw back. Happily, Seven submitted to the gentle grasp, remaining where she was as the captain kissed her again, deeply, then again, their lips parting beneath the other's, tasting each other fully.

"I believe I have one more gift to open," Janeway said huskily when they paused for breath.

"I believe we both do," Seven assured her. She raked her eyes down the compact form of her partner, over the lovely gown which made the most attractive type of wrapping. She reached out and gathered Janeway up in her arms, standing up with one smooth motion as the rest of their gifts were left behind on the sofa. "Nor is it an opportunity that either of us will be forced to miss."

Janeway wrapped her arms around her partner's neck and kissed her again, lingering over Seven's lips. "Darling," she whispered, "Happy Anniversary."

"Happy Anniversary to you, my Kathryn," Seven replied as she carried her bride over the threshold of their bedroom.

"And many, many more."

Epilogue

Petunia barked as the stranger in the Starfleet uniform strode purposely up the graveled path leading to the front porch of the Indiana farmhouse. Almost twenty years old, the little black dog no longer moved as quickly or as rambunctiously as she had as a puppy rescued by a certain auburn haired young woman in a snowstorm, but she was still fiercely protective of her territory. Gretchen Janeway no longer moved as swiftly as she once had, either, but she did not hesitate in moving out the screen door as the newcomer approached.

"Mrs. Janeway?" he asked as he paused at the foot of the stairs leading to the expansive veranda.

"Yes," she said, feeling her pulse increase. Often, personal visits from Starfleet officers were not something to look upon with any sort of appreciation. Too often, the conversation began with the words, "We regret to inform you..."

This ruggedly handsome middle-aged man smiled broadly however, as he held up a padd. "Compliments of Admiral Paris, ma'am," he said. "He wanted to be sure you received the messages as soon as they came in, rather than have you wait, as you have in the past, until Starfleet got through with the rest of the communication package." She accepted the padd, unconsciously reaching out for it as he talked. "Letters from Voyager ... transmitted from the Delta Quadrant just this morning."

"Heavens, thank you so much," she said, meaning it. She returned his infectious smile. "What's your name, Commander?"

"Michael Patterson, ma'am," he responded promptly. "I'm the admiral's assistant."

"Well, Commander Patterson, would you like to come in for some lemonade or perhaps some iced tea?" she offered.

"Thank you but no, I need to get back to San Francisco and Starfleet Command," he declined politely. He offered her another smile, his deep blue eyes sparkling in the Indiana sun. "However, I'll see you next month, and maybe I can take you up on that offer then."

"Yes," she said, her heart lightening. "Next month."

She watched as his form disappeared into the gathering dusk, as the sun slowly set over the cornfields which made up most of the agricultural park where she had lived for so long. Then she gingerly lowered herself into the porch swing and activated the padd. Petunia scrambled stiffly up beside her, and with the dog's head resting on her lap, Gretchen read the first letter out loud to the animal's keenly alert ears.

"Dear Mom,
I'm writing this in my quarters on the afternoon after my first wedding anniversary. Seven is still fast asleep because we had a pretty late evening celebrating. Since we were married on the first eve of Prixin, which is a Talaxian holiday introduced by the ship's Delta Quadrant native, there was quite a large party last night, which all the ship was able to participate in. I know she'll be writing her own letters to you and Phoebe as soon as she wakes, but in the meantime, let me give you my version about everything that's happened since the last time I wrote, starting with a mess in the holodeck and ending with the remarkable encounter with an empathic subspace creature..."

And as Gretchen Janeway read the latest adventures of the daughter she had once thought forever lost to her, she was unaware of the tears that slowly trickled down her wrinkled cheeks, knowing only that in some small way, she was once more a vital part of her Kathryn's life.

The End

•  Welcome to the second collaboration between B.L. Miller and myself.

• This was posted on March 17th, 2000.

• This story is so large, it had to be broken down into four parts.  Each part is a little smaller than the average JB story.

• Thanks to beta readers, Susan, Marco, Elisa and Helen who, even though this story is about three times as large, had the same amount of time to beta it and did a fantastic job.  Well done.

• Check out B.L. Miller's other stories on her WEBSITE or drop her a note at BMiller@banet.net

Just Between Families
G.L. Dartt & B.L. Miller

The silvery form of the USS Voyager slipped silently through space, its normally bright paint dulled deliberately while it utilized only the minimum of running lights. It was surrounded by predators, and it knew it, speeding bravely, yet cautiously to where it needed to be.

"Absolutely not!"

"It's a command decision. I'm the captain. It's my job!" Kathryn fastened her tunic, dismally noting that yet again an attempt to make up with her lover had failed, duty rearing its ugly head just as they were getting ready to sit down to dinner.

"And your job is more important than us?" Annika yelled back, turning to slam her hand down on the workstation and scattering several padds in the process. "Honestly, Kathryn. You may be on Voyager, but this isn't the Delta Quadrant. You can call up Starfleet and have another ship here in three hours to check out that Cardassian freighter. I don't know why you don't call for help now. This was supposed to be a courier mission, remember! We're supposed avoid conflict in carrying out our mission, not go looking for it."

"Sensors have detected only one ship." Kathryn threw her hands up in the air and headed for the door. "Voyager can handle that. The Federation needs all the reconnaissance information they can get. This is ridiculous. We have less than twenty minutes before their long range sensors spot us. We need to be on the bridge, Lieutenant."

Annika Hansen glared at her lover, angered by the use of the rank, knowing that it was Kathryn's way of shutting down the argument without leaving her any room to maneuver. She tugged hard on the hem of her tunic. "Aye, Captain," she snapped, the last word said with great disdain. Together, they rode the turbolift to the bridge, both too stubborn to say a word to ease the anger ... and hurt ... flowing between them. In any event, the jolt that rocked them in the turbolift drove it completely from their minds, both realizing that it had just become moot. The courier ship no longer had the luxury of taking a quick scan and moving back to safety. They were fully engaged with the enemy.

"Report," Johnson said as she strode out of the lift and took the short flight of stairs in a single bound. "Go to Red Alert." The lights had already been dimmed to that status once the first attack came, throwing a crimson tint over everything, but she needed to verify the official status.

"Apparently, the vessel on our long-range sensors was not a Cardassian vessel," Tuvok said calmly, the Vulcan standing and smoothly relinquishing the command seat to her. "They disguised their warp signature."

"The Breen vessel is showing full shields and a massive armory," Ensign Nog said from his operations station. The Ferengi's voice was terse, but calm. It was not the first time he had been under fire.

Ensign Martel at tactical was not so calm, however. "Shields down to 57%," the young woman yelped, her voice higher than usual. Kathryn had no doubt that it was due to the young cadet being on her first mission, having graduated from Starfleet Academy only one month before being assigned to Voyager. With the Dominion war still raging and Starfleet losing officers at a horrific rate, these cadets were being pushed out of the Academy with only two years of training rather than the requisite four. Still, the young ensign did her best to ignore the sweat pouring off her forehead as she continued to read off the vital information. "Photon torpedoes and phaser banks fully charged."

"Aim for their weapons array, quantum torpedoes, on my command," Kathryn said, her eyes steely gray.

"Torpedoes ready," Martel said.

"Fire." A hit rocked Voyager at the same time the viewscreen showed the large enemy ship being struck by the heavily charged missiles. Johnson rubbed her forehead absently as she listened to the reports.

"Direct hit, their shields are down to 60%," Martel said with more than a touch of joy in her voice. "Dominion ship is turning away." The ensign's eyes widened, her mouth opened but no sound could come out of it. Seeing her, Annika moved from her science station up to tactical and her eyes widened at the information she discovered there.

"Mines!" she yelled, rerouting all available energy to reinforce the shields, just before the explosives detonated. Frantically, Ensign Ro Laren worked the helm, desperately attempting to divert the ship and failing utterly. Voyager, Starfleet's first transwarp-driven vessel, jerked and bucked violently under the backlash, scattering the crew helplessly about the bridge. Lt. Hansen fought the darkness that clouded her vision and looked around desperately, gasping loudly when she saw Kathryn lying on the deck, blood pooling at her mouth and nose.

"Doctor to Captain."

Annika stared at the horrid scene for a second longer before reality set in. She smacked her comm badge and looked around to see if anyone else was on their feet. "Hansen to Pulaski. We have injured on the bridge."

"Sickbay is piling up. I can't spare anyone. Use emergency site-to-site transport for the worst cases."

Ensign Martel slowly staggered to her feet, crimson blood trickling down the side of her face. Nog moaned and rolled on the ground while Tuvok laid eerily still, as did Ro Laren, crumpled by her chair. Annika quickly realized she was in charge, an event she had hoped and prayed would never happen. Nor would it have, under normal conditions, but the war had made things far from 'normal conditions' ... to the point where a scientist-turned-science officer would end up in command of an Intrepid-class vessel.

"Martel, take over the helm. Get us to safety. Nog ... Nog! Get a report, find out what we've got left. Computer, emergency site-to-site transport, Tuvok, Ro and Captain Johnson to sickbay." With a sea of sparkles, Tuvok and Ro dematerialized from the bridge. The captain flickered fretfully, then reappeared, the transporter failing to complete the transfer.

"Lieutenant, transporters are off-line," Nog said, his breathing labored. "Unable to initiate any more site-to-site transports."

"Doctor, Kathryn is hurt and we are unable to transport," Annika said, more than a little scared at the current situation. She should have transported Kathryn by herself first, she thought furiously, and would have ... if she hadn't known what the captain would say once she found out about it later. Annika bit her lip, her years of training at the Daystrom Institute and subsequent scientific projects not preparing her in the slightest for commanding a starship in the middle of a battle. Certainly, the briefings she had undergone during a three week course at the Academy were hardly up to this. Unfortunately, compared to the rest of the kids on the bridge, she was still the most experienced with Voyager's systems. Annika swallowed against the acid taste in her mouth.

"Get her stabilized and use the tricorder in the medikit. Give me readings."

"Lieutenant, sensors report three Breen vessels heading this way ... t-they appear to be heavily armed and on an intercept course with us." Sonya Martel's voice shook as she relayed the information.

"Shields down to 37% and falling. Weapon systems are off-line," Nog said, with one arm pressed heavily across his chest, as he leaned on his artificial leg for support. Annika's fingers felt numb as she grabbed the medikit and knelt down next to Kathryn.

"What do I do?" Annika whispered helplessly as she removed her tunic, rolling it up and using it to support Kathryn's head. They had to get out of there, she knew, but with three Dominion ships headed their way and no chance for the Federation to get anyone there in time to help, options were limited. "Hansen to Pulaski." The science officer's hand shook as she ran the probe over the captain; it took a strength of will that she did not know she possessed to keep from crying at the sight of her lover's broken body.

"Sickbay here." It was not Dr. Pulaski, but her young assistant, Ensign Joanna Charles. Apparently, the doctor was too busy with other patients to answer the hail. It did not matter though, someone had answered and that was good enough for Annika.

"Blood pressure is below standard, but her other vitals are within norms." Dr. Hansen's eyes ice blue eyes turned pale. "Heart rate is dropping."

"Lt. Hansen," Dr. Pulaski's voice came over the comm. "Transmit the readings to Sickbay."

"Transmitting." She reached over and brushed her hand across Kathryn's forehead. "You have to hang in there," she whispered. "I need you."

"Lt. Hansen ... Annika." The doctor's voice was a forced calm. "I'm sending a team up to get her now. Put the tricorder on a continuous feed to Sickbay."

Annika did not dare ask how the doctor managed to free two medics to bring the gurney to the bridge. In a disaster, those who are most injured or in danger are treated first, and she had seen the tricorder readings.

"Ma'am, one ship approaching weapons range. They're powering up their weapons array."

Annika tried to envision her intensive, if very brief, Starfleet officer's training, grasping desperately for something to break through the confusion and fear and tell her what to do. The only thing that kept coming to her over and over was that they had to get out of there fast. "Time until they're within range?" she asked, unsure why she was even entertaining the thought. It was crazy. Absolutely crazy. There was no way that it could be an option.

"Six point two minutes," Nog said. "The other two will be within range two minutes after that."

"Lieutenant, sensors reporting two more Jem'Hadar fighters approaching bearing four-two-three-point-six-seven."

The turbolift doors opened with a whoosh, letting two medics, carrying a gurney, onto the bridge. "I'll take it from here, Lieutenant," one of the medics said, holding out his hand. Annika handed the tricorder over, but not until she took one last look at the readings, noting the signs were slowly dropping.

"Lieutenant." Annika turned to see three more bridge officers enter from the turbolift, automatically going to the stations they were best suited for ... Jackson to replace the woozy Martel at the helm, Wickers to operations and Mitchell for Nog. They looked at her expectantly, and it took a second for Annika to remind herself that, at the moment, she was ranking officer. The decision had to be made and it had to be made now. Trapped by Jem'Hadar fighters if they went forward, and flanked on the sides and rear by Dominion forces, which included a Breen dreadnought, there was only one way out. Lt. Hansen dazedly made her way to the command chair, trying to fight the sickening feeling washing over her at the sight of Kathryn being carried away and fresh blood staining the deck. The red light and klaxon horn melted away to the background as she began to speak. "Ensign Mitchell, route all available power to the main deflector. Prepare to channel the transwarp stream through the deflector array on my mark." Hastily she programmed in the exact energy signature she wanted to create.

"Commander Scott to the bridge. What are ye trying to do to me people down here, Captain?"

"This is Lt. Hansen. We're trying to recreate the rift, Commander. I need enough to open it and take Voyager through." Annika did not need to explain further. Commander Montgomery Scott had been there for the first trip of Voyager through the rift into the alternate universe. He had not been happy about it then and he obviously was not happy now.

"I need at least fifteen minutes to prepare the EPS manifolds to take that kind of load."

"We don't have fifteen minutes, Commander," she said, looking at her monitor. "We have less than five before their long range torpedoes can hit us, and we need to be able to close the rift up after us."

There was a pause in which she was sure the Scottish engineer was calling her several colorful names. "Aye, Lieutenant."

The decision made, Lt. Annika Hansen sat in the command chair, lost, out of place, worried to death about her lover and terrified the rift would not be opened in time.

Janeway left the turbolift and crossed the bridge. "Report."

"Sensors picked up an energy surge but it seems to be dissipating," Lt. Kim said. "Wait, it's coming back. Captain, it's the same energy signature as the rift we went through to the other universe ... the one with Commodore Johnson."

"On screen," she said, her hands gripping the armrests of her command chair. It took only one glimpse of phaser fire for her to react. "Red alert, shields up."

The rift opened further, revealing a limping Voyager trying to get through on impulse engines. "Captain, sensors indicate a ship of unknown origin firing upon Voyager," Tuvok said, his dark eyes never leaving his console. "Their shields are failing."

"Lay down some cover fire and open a hail." She waited for the nod from Harry. "This is Captain Kathryn Janeway. May we be of assistance?"

"Captain?" The screen changed to show a harried Annika Hansen wearing the pips of a senior lieutenant, seated in the captain's chair and looking as frightened as a child waking up from her first nightmare. "We're under fire. We have wounded." Hansen looked around helplessly.

"Lt. Hansen," Janeway said, mindful of the pips as she wondered how bad it was that a senior lieutenant would end up in charge of the bridge under battle conditions ... particularly one with Hansen's background. "Where is Captain Johnson?"

"S-she's in sickbay," the woman, who looked so much like her own Seven, said.

Janeway looked at Chakotay. "Get over there and assess the situation." This was not the time to talk a green command officer through a tough situation. The turbolift doors opened and Seven crossed the deck heading to her position at tactical.

"Aye, Captain," he said, turning and heading for the turbolift.

"They are limited to impulse power only," Seven said, startled by the distraught look on her counterpart's face along with dark circles beneath her eyes. "Systems are failing on decks 7 and 8," the Borg added as she looked over her instruments.

Janeway turned to face the screen. "Lt. Hansen, your systems are failing on decks 7 and 8." To her dismay, the person currently in charge of her counterpart's Voyager looked over her shoulder at the ensign standing at tactical. "Lieutenant, you need to evacuate those decks and send an engineering team there to assess the situation." Janeway rubbed her forehead. Clearly Dr. Annika Hansen was not in command, despite the protocols that might dictate that she was. Even Seven had never been placed in command of Voyager during battle status, and she had experience with tactical procedures. "I'm sending Commander Chakotay over to assist you. You must lower your forward shields long enough for him to beam over."

"I don't know..." Annika started, then paused and looked around, her eyes focusing on a spot on the floor just out of the range of the viewscreen. Seeming to draw from an inner strength despite her terror, she brought her head up. "We need to close the rift."

Seeing the enemy ships rapidly approaching the tear in the spatial fabric, Janeway agreed. "Stand by, we're going to empty our torpedo banks before we close the rift. That should give them something to think about." She only had to glance at Tuvok to know the weapons were ready on her command. A moment or two passed with agonizing slowness, then Chakotay's image appeared on the viewscreen. Annika appeared relieved and gratefully turned over command. "Tuvok, fire when ready. Chakotay, we're laying down a line of torpedoes to cover you while you finish bringing Voyager through the rift."

"Understood, Captain," he said, already giving orders and reviewing the information on the console. Seconds later, as Voyager finished limping through and the rift closed upon itself, the last thing they saw of the alternate universe was a series of exploding weapons ... and perhaps a few enemy ships as well.

With the battle over, an eerie silence filled the bridge. Seven and Janeway exchanged looks, both worried about their counterparts. "Stand down red alert and hail them."

Chakotay's face filled the screen, his uniform looking woefully out of place amid the new Starfleet design. "Captain, we've got impulse only. Transwarp engines are off-line, backup warp engines also off-line. Life support is nominal and the structural integrity field is online." He paused, reading a report coming over the command chair monitor. "Captain, the chief medical officer has requested assistance in sickbay." He paused. "She knows there's another Starfleet vessel present, but I don't think she knows exactly who it is or what's involved here."

"Where is Lt. Hansen now, Commander?"

"She went to Sickbay as soon as I relieved her of command. Uh, Captain..." He paused, his mind trying to reconcile his next statement. "Captain Johnson is in sickbay, as is their Tuvok."

"Understood, Chakotay. Maintain station keeping. Seven and I are coming over with Sek and the Doctor to see what assistance we can provide. Janeway out." She turned to her Vulcan Chief of Security. "Tuvok, you have the conn. Seven, you're with me." She headed for the turbolift, after requesting that the Doctor and Sek meet her in the transporter room.

Seven remained quiet until the turbolift doors closed. "You are worried," she noted.

Janeway nodded. "I know if I were facing half a dozen armed enemies, it would take being critically injured to pull me out of my command chair."

"Indeed, you have been critically injured and refused to relinquish your command before," Seven agreed gravely. "We need to discover what is happening as quickly as possible." She was actually a few steps ahead of the captain as they left the turbolift and strode briskly for the transporter room.

Janeway fidgeted impatiently as the transporter seemed to take forever, something her partner and the holograms did not display, but it was only a minute before they were over on the other ship and moving quickly to sickbay. The Doctor and Sek fell behind as they stopped to help injured limping through the corridors, and if the various crewmembers took more than a few second looks at these newcomers in their older style uniforms, then at least, Janeway was pleased to note they didn't let it keep them from their duties. From the anxiousness on their faces, however, things were not good, and she wondered how much of it was due to the fact that they were no longer in their own universe and how much of it was a result of being in a war. She supposed that being able to see another USS Voyager hangingoff the port bow did nothing to help ease the disconcertion, and seeing Voyager's science officer with no uniform at all, but with Borg implants, undoubtedly shook them. She was also disturbed that most appeared too young to even be full cadets much less ensigns.

Janeway did a double take when the door to Sickbay slid open and she saw the older woman standing over the biobed. "Doctor Pulaski? Kate Pulaski?"

The Chief Medical Officer looked at Janeway with her away team, then to the figure lying on the biobed, then back to Janeway. "I don't want to know, do I?"

"Alternate universes, Commander," Janeway explained shortly, her eyes still in shock at seeing her former Academy instructor and the broken form of her counterpart. Sickbay was busy, all the biobeds full, forcing some crewmembers to sit against the walls and quietly wait for their turn.

"Well, certainly two Voyagers are better than one. Is my counterpart on your ship?"

"Actually, I'm on your ship now," The Doctor piped up as he came through the doors with an injured crewman leaning on him heavily for support. "How may I be of assistance?"

Pulaski looked at him for a few seconds. "You've got to be kidding. You don't even breathe. How can you treat those that do?"

"I'm a fully equipped Emergency Medical Hologram as is Sek," he said with wounded dignity. He pointed out the holographic Ocampa speaking quietly to a young man sitting against the wall. "We are Voyager's medical team."

Pulaski favored Janeway with a look that the captain had not seen since her first year at the Academy when she had answered several questions wrong on a pop quiz. It still had the same effect. "Our original doctor was killed our first year in the Delta Quadrant. It was necessary to activate the EMH program," she said, carefully schooling any note of apology out of her tone, though a part of her felt oddly as if it should be there.

"Well, if I was able to work with Lt. Commander Data, I'm sure I can manage with a couple of holograms."

The Doctor sniffed and raised his chin. "I am no longer just a hologram, Doctor," he said. "Sek and I have grown beyond our original programming and are considered fully sentient and equal members of the crew."

Pulaski gave him a dubious look but nodded. "Good for you," she said shortly. "The injured are over there." She jerked her chin at the makeshift triage area where Sek had already moved to start assessing the injuries.

"I'll take care of them with my usual precision and skill," the Doctor said, not bothering to hide his annoyance, but he did move quickly over to the injured. Janeway made a mental note to keep the Doctor and Dr. Pulaski separated as much as possible in the future.

"I assume you're Dr. Hansen's other self," Pulaski said, looking at Seven.

"I am Seven of Nine," she responded promptly. "Annika Hansen was my designation prior to my assimilation, but I do not hold the degree of doctor."

"Assimilation?" Pulaski nodded as if now understanding the starburst on Seven's cheek and the optical implant. "You're Borg."

"You are correct, but I am no longer of the Collective," Seven said. "Captain Janeway severed my link three years ago."

Pulaski shook her head and pressed the hypospray to Johnson's neck. "Well, if Picard could do it, why not?" An urgent beep drew the doctor's attention to the tricorder.

"What is wrong with Captain Johnson?" Seven asked, noting with great concern the way Dr. Pulaski kept the medical probe moving over the unconscious form.

"Besides flying all over the bridge and using her head to stop her body from going through the deck?" Pulaski asked.

Seven's eyes flickered, clearly catching the sarcasm. "That is obvious. I was questioning the extent of her injuries, not the way in which they were obtained." Her blue eyes flickered over to the adjacent biobed. "Why is Dr. Hansen unconscious?"

Janeway gave a quick glance at the activity going on around her. Sek and the Doctor were working like the team they had become, organizing patients according to need and dividing up the tasks to cover the most patients in the fastest time. Already some were leaving sickbay, their injuries minor, requiring a few passes by bone knitters or dermal regenerators. The captain knew that sometimes, on a starship, triage didn't always mean taking the most heavily wounded first; it meant getting experienced personal back to key stations as quickly as possible to ensure the continued safety of the entire ship, the artificial environment dependent on maintaining integrity. It took a while for new or planetbound medical personnel to understand that when they first ventured into space.

"Lt. Hansen was hysterical and required sedation," Pulaski said, studying the readings from the tricorder. "She doesn't take well to the captain being injured," she added in a lower voice that indicated this was not the first time the head science officer had to be sedated ... or that their captain had been so critically injured.

Kathryn was still trying to get her brain to accept the image of her counterpart lying on the biobed. Pulaski's words sank through the fog and Janeway forced herself back to reality. "How bad is it?" she whispered, noting that Seven had moved and now was standing by Dr. Hansen's biobed, looking down at her with an unfathomable expression on her narrow features.

Dr. Pulaski set the tricorder down, her weathered features showing a few more wrinkles than Janeway remembered. "Severe fractures of the cranium and vertebrae, broken ribs ... Captain Johnson is nothing if not thorough." She reached out and brushed a stray lock of auburn hair off the unconscious woman's forehead. "I blame her for at least half of the gray hairs I've picked up in the last eight months." She cast a side glance at Janeway. "You're probably just like her too," she said with a touch of reproach in her voice. "Taking chances when you shouldn't, not taking proper care of yourself." A soft beep made Pulaski look at the monitor. "Do you still have those machines running around inside you?"

"The nanoprobes were completely purged from my system after the last time our universes crossed," Janeway said, surprised the Doctor was aware of who she truly was, much less of her medical history. It did explain why Pulaski's odd look at her and Seven when they first entered Sickbay lasted only a few seconds, and of course, Kathryn had known since her Academy days that Kate Pulaski was not easily fazed.

"Good," the older woman said cryptically, reaching for a hypospray and pressing it against the unconscious woman's throat. "Captain Johnson is stabilized as best I can for now. Ensign Charles," she said in a louder voice, drawing the attention of her assistant. "It's time to wake Lt. Hansen."

The young ensign looked at her commanding officer apprehensively. "Yes, Doctor." Seven stepped to the side as Charles used a hypospray to bring Hansen around.

Annika opened her eyes carefully and looked around, her eyes falling on the other biobed. "Kathryn," she said, struggling to sit up. Seven reached out to steady her, noting the dark circles under her counterpart's eyes.

"You require rest," the Borg said firmly.

"No," the scientist said, pushing the offered hand away and standing up. "I have to know. Doctor?"

"Lieutenant, I'm releasing you to active duty," Pulaski said without looking up. "Report to whoever is in charge."

"Oh, no, you don't." Seven was surprised by the fire in her counterpart's eyes. Annika staggered over to the biobed, her eyes stricken when she saw the readings. "Don't you even think of hiding behind your CMO authority. I have a right to know."

Pulaski seemed to hesitate before conceding the distraught woman's point. "I have Kathryn's vital signs stabilized for the moment."

"What does that mean? Is she going to be all right?"

Dr. Kate Pulaski looked at her instruments. All her decades in Starfleet Medical, all the horrors she had seen, the times she had to inform a loved one of the most devastating of news, all those experiences failed to make it any easier. "Dr. Hansen, I'm doing everything I can."

Tears sprang from Annika's face as she crumbled into Seven's strong arms.

"I think it would be best if we took Dr. Hansen to her quarters," Janeway said, receiving an agreeing nod from her spouse who looked distinctly uncomfortable at holding her counterpart. It was obvious that this crew had been running on the wire edge of nerves for a long time, and absurdly, Janeway found herself thinking fondly of the relative peace of this current section of the Delta Quadrant.

Pulaski nodded. "Please come see me before the day is out," she requested quietly. "I need to speak with you further."

Janeway nodded and pressed her comm badge. "Janeway to Chakotay."

"Chakotay here."

"Status, Commander?"

"They don't have any propulsion higher than impulse available, and their deflector array was severely damaged by the increased energy going through it to create the rift. Commander Scott has teams working on decks 7 and 8. Commander Tuvok ... their Commander Tuvok is ready to assume command."

Janeway allowed a small smile. No doubt Chakotay was feeling a bit out of sorts with the alternate universe's ship and crew. He might even be wondering where his counterpart was in the scheme of things. "Turn the conn over to Mr. Tuvok and return to Voyager. Sek and the Doctor will return when they are through helping Dr. Pulaski in Sickbay. Seven and I have some business here that we have to take care of, but in the meantime, as before, we want to keep traffic between the ships as limited as possible."

His voice lowered. "Are we really that much alike?" he said softly. "With the exception of Tuvok, I don't recognize any of the crewmen here on the bridge. In fact, a hell of a lot of them are just kids."

"Perhaps not," Janeway allowed. "But protocols really don't cover contact with alternate realities. I'd like to keep it under control as much as possible."

"Understood. Captain?"

"Yes Commander?"

"How is ... the captain?"

"It's just like you to be worried, Chakotay," she said affectionately before sobering her tone. Clearly, she was not going to repeat what the doctor had said, not with Annika still sobbing and clutching desperately to Seven. "I'll see you back on Voyager. Janeway out." It wasn't until the channel was cut that she realized she hadn't really answered her first officer's question.

The two previous encounters with Dr. Hansen had allowed Janeway to see the differences between the two Annikas, but she was still struck by them, now. Where Seven's hair was shimmering and long, currently done up in the austere bun, Annika's was cropped close to her head, cowlicks causing it to stick out in places. Ignoring the implants, even their faces showed subtle differences, most notably the drawn, gaunt look of the scientist's features. Voyager II's Annika was clearly in pain and had been for some time. Feeling the need to comfort the one that looked so much like her own Seven, Janeway walked over and put her hand on Dr. Hansen's elbow. "Come on now," she said in a gentle tone, exchanging a significant look with Seven. "Let's get you back to your quarters."

"But ... Kathryn," Annika protested even though she was being guided to the door by the quiet but determined Borg.

"Is under the best care she could possibly ask for," Janeway reassured her as the sickbay doors opened and they stepped out into the corridor.

The door to the captain's quarters hissed obediently open, allowing Janeway and Seven to guide Annika over to the couch. Janeway quickly programmed a glass of whiskey, neat, for medicinal purposes, taking it to where the blondes were sitting. Seven was next to Annika, allowing her biometric suit to become damp with the science officer's tears.

"Dr. Hansen," Janeway said, offering the glass as she perched uncertainly on the edge of the chair offset to the couch. "Drink this."

Apparently understanding what she was trying to do, Seven took the glass from her and put it to the distraught woman's lips. "It is required you consume this now," she instructed firmly.

Hansen drained half the glass in one long swallow, much to Janeway's surprise as her Annika did not care for the strong liquor, preferring champagne or wine. Hansen reached into her tunic pocket and pulled out a wrinkled handkerchief. "Thank you," she mumbled, wiping her eyes and face with one hand while using the other to take the glass from Seven. This time she kept it tilted up to her lips until the drink was gone.

Janeway took the glass from her hands and set it on the coffee table. "Fill us in," she demanded gently.

Hansen took a quick glance at her surroundings. "You brought me to Kathryn's quarters," she noted, surprise coloring her tone.

"You do not live together as a family unit?" Seven asked, with even more surprise threading her voice.

Hansen shook her head. "No," she responded with an edge that indicated this was an old wound. She paused, then looked at Seven with an aching expression, apparently seeing her as someone she could confide in. It was almost as if, now that Janeway and Seven were here, she had given herself permission to completely fall apart. Janeway wondered how long she had been storing the anguish away. "With the exception of Dr. Pulaski and a few others, the crew doesn't really know about us. We did talk about sharing quarters six months ago when it looked like the Federation had all but won the war, but then the Dominion allied themselves with the Breen and stepped up their attack and we had to go into battle and..." The blonde woman gave a half sob and pulled her long legs up against her chest, wrapping her arms around them. "Dammit, I told her she was taking too many chances. We're supposed to be a courier ship, not fighting on the front lines."

Janeway leaned forward and put a gentle hand on Hansen's knee. "I know this is hard for you, Annika."

"Hard?" Hansen gave a sarcastic half laugh. "Damn right it's hard." She looked so distraught that Janeway swiftly got up and replicated a second whiskey, wondering if it was such a good idea to be feeding the woman drinks but not knowing quite what else to do. She wondered if she should give Sek a call. "Ten months ago I thought everything was perfect. Kathryn was a captain again and I was given a commission. Voyager's transwarp drive is a feather in Admiral Nechayev's cap, and this was only supposed to be a six month mission to test the transwarp drive against the Dominion."

"What happened?"

"We ran into an ambush of Jem'Hadar a month after we began." Hansen paused to take a long swallow of whiskey, privately wishing she had a liter instead of a glass of the stuff. "I guess it didn't take them long to discover our new technology and they wanted to have a closer look. And you know Kathryn. Instead of moving us to a safe place and letting Starfleet's warships take care of them, she got it in her stubborn head to take care of them herself." She gave Janeway a disgruntled look, as if the captain was guilty of the same crimes by association. "She was covering tactical when an plasma surge blew up the station. Dr. Pulaski operated on her for over six hours. Six hours, can you believe that?" Hansen sniffed, wiping her face with her sleeve.

"Yes," Seven piped up. "When Kathryn injures herself, it usually is of the type designed to test our doctor's skill to the fullest." She gave her wife a small smile. "She has gotten much better at avoiding danger lately."

"Yeah, well, I wish my Kathryn would get the hint," Hansen grumbled, draining the glass. "She was back on the bridge three days after that incident. You think she would have learned but obviously she hasn't." She eyed the empty glass. "I need another drink."

"I'll get it," Janeway said, rising to her feet and crossing over to the replicator. This time she programmed a regular whiskey and soda for herself and a much weaker one for Hansen.

"Thank you," Hansen said as she took the glass. "I can't believe how crazy this has all gotten."

"Just relax and take a deep breath," Janeway urged, mindful of the concerned look on her wife's face. Seven was clearly sensitive to the situation, and the last thing the captain needed was two upset Hansens to deal with. She wondered if Johnson's injury was triggering memories for Seven ... memories that Janeway had certainly given enough of to her Borg.

"I'm okay," the science officer said unconvincingly.

"I do not believe you," Seven said bluntly. "You and Kathryn are having problems with your relationship."

Hansen gave Seven a surprised look before lowering her head and nodding. Janeway merely resisted the urge to roll her eyes at her partner's brutal lack of tact.

"Two weeks after that first battle, Kathryn locked herself in her ready room for days on end, not talking to me, not talking to anyone. She never would tell me what was going on." The whiskey and soda was lasting longer now, Hansen sipping instead of gulping. "When she came out, we talked about our future and growing old together." She looked up at Janeway helplessly. "I really thought she had worked out whatever was bothering her. I thought we were finally on the right track. Then the war stepped up again and we ran into that ambush. Shortly after, Voyager's orders were changed again. We were suddenly testing how quickly we were in transporting necessary goods and personnel to where they needed to go. Certainly, nothing the Dominion had would be faster in moving crucial supplies to key areas, but it wasn't dammed battle duty any longer, it was courier work." Fresh tears made their way down her cheeks. "After that ... everything just fell apart. She pulled away from me, started spending all her time in that damn Ready Room. Wouldn't even talk about living together or our future or anything." Hansen lifted the glass to her lips as if the melted ice might contain just a few drops more of the whiskey.

Janeway reached out and took the glass. "I think you've had enough of that for now," she said gently but firmly. She was startled when her comm badge chirped.

"Pulaski to Janeway."

"Janeway here. Go ahead, Doctor."

"Is Lt. Hansen with you?"

"Yes she is. She can hear us."

"Good. I have Captain Johnson stabilized and the worst of her injuries repaired. She's sedated and won't be conscious until tomorrow, but I do predict a full recovery."

"That is most welcome news, Doctor," Janeway said.

"Pulaski out."

The captain looked at Hansen, who looked very much relieved though still worried. "Do you want to stay here or in your own quarters?"

"I can't take being all alone," Hansen admitted. "I'll go back to Sickbay and stay with Kathryn."

"You need rest and probably food," Janeway countered firmly. "At least, let Seven take you back to your quarters so you can eat and freshen up first." A quick glance from her wife let the captain know that Seven thought that was a good idea. Janeway wondered if the Borg wanted to speak to her counterpart in private and decided that very well could be. After all, she and Johnson had found their greatest sense of closeness when they had been alone in the cave on Mars. "I'll return to my ship and start organizing the repair teams for your ship."

"It's not my damned ship," Annika muttered, under her breath, and Janeway cast a final, worried look at both blondes as she left the quarters.

Seven's eyes widened when she stepped into the science officer's cabin. "You live here?" she asked dubiously.

"Of course," Hansen said as she shoved some padds and clothes out of the way to reveal the couch cushion. "Do you want something to drink?"

"No thank you," the Borg said, linking her hands behind her back and taking in the mess with a disapproving eye. "Why do you not maintain your quarters? It is inefficient to have..." She did a quick count. "Twenty-seven padds active at once."

"I work better with clutter," Hansen said, a trifle defensively, while waiting for her drink to materialize in the replicator. "Most of the time, Kathryn and I meet in her quarters."

"I understand why," Seven said. "It would be impossible to conduct much socialization in these ... surroundings. I most certainly would not allow our quarters to become so disorganized." Distastefully, she skirted a pile of what appeared to be worn ... and very dirty ... clothes.

"I'll do better once Kathryn and I are living together," Hansen said sullenly, taking a swallow of her drink. "If we ever live together," she added, slumping down onto the couch.

"You must have faith," Seven said, methodically cleaning off the chair and taking a seat that faced her counterpart. "Kathryn Janeway is a very difficult person to love, but the rewards far outweigh the effort required."

"That's easy for you to say," Hansen scoffed. "Your Janeway is perfect. She married you, didn't she?" She rubbed her forehead. "I can barely get mine to agree that a continued relationship is a possibility."

"My Kathryn is not perfect," Seven corrected, then softened and added honestly. "But she is perfect for me. We have learned how to communicate our needs and feelings to each other, even when they appear irrational."

"Mine hides in her ready room and doesn't even acknowledge I'm around," Hansen said sadly. "Then she'll show up after days of not talking to me and wants me to hold her."

"And do you?"

"Of course," Hansen said, surprised by the question. "I love her, Seven. Even when she drives me crazy and it feels like she's pushing me away, I still love her. I'll take anything I can get from her, even if it's just being able to hold her once in a while."

"That is insufficient," Seven noted reasonably. "You are not being fair to your partnership. Captain Janeway does not need a companion who caters to her every whim and I suspect neither does Captain Johnson. She needs a person who is strong enough to tell her when she is wrong and to love her despite it. You are doing both her and yourself a disservice by holding your true feelings back."

"I don't have a choice," Annika said bitterly. "The last eight months have been hell for us. We've both said so much ... been so hurtful to each other." She sniffed. "Tonight was supposed to be one of our 'make-up' nights."

"Explain," Seven urged.

"We haven't said a civil word to each other in almost a week and tonight we were going to have dinner and try to put it behind us ... again." Hansen sniffed, blinking rapidly. "I hate this. I hate fighting with her when all I want to do is just hold her in my arms and never let go. I hate coming to these quarters night after night when she's just down the corridor, but we're not talking because of one stupid reason or another. I hate that I'm sitting here when I should be with her in sickbay, and I just don't know how to handle all this." She wiped her eyes with her hand, angrily removing the tears. "I would give anything to see her smile again, to see those eyes a brilliant blue and full of love. Do you know what I mean?"

"I do," Seven said, her gaze softening. "Kathryn at her happiest is a most wonderful sight indeed. I strive to keep her as happy as I am able."

"My Kathryn's eyes haven't been blue in a long time," Hansen noted sadly. "Not since..." A certain enlightenment dawned in her expression. "Not since she got that communiqué," the science officer said slowly. "She received a top level private communiqué just after we got our new orders. Whatever was in that message, it took Kathryn away and there's nothing there but the Starfleet captain now."

"Your Kathryn is hiding her feelings from you beneath the command mask," Seven said. "It is a familiar tactic of hers. It must be a great fear, if she is at all similar to my Kathryn. Anger would be clearly defined in her approach, which would be straightforward."

"What does she have to be afraid of? She knows I love her."

"Unknown," Seven noted. "But if she is hiding it this well from you, it is possible that it involves you in some way."

"How?" Hansen said, bewildered. "She knows I would do anything for her. For God's sake, I joined Starfleet just to be with her."

"Then you joined Starfleet for the wrong reasons," Seven said disapprovingly. "We shall discuss that another time. Right now it is more important for you to concentrate on what you need to do for your Kathryn."

"What can I do?" Hansen asked, holding her hands out. "I try to be there for her. I give her space when she wants it. What more can I do?" Emotionally defeated, she let the tears fall. "I can't lose her, Seven. I don't know if I can survive that."

Seven hesitated, then raised an eyebrow. "I believe ... I understand," she said. She tilted her head. "However, I am surprised to hear you say it. Kathryn does not particularly like me to say things to that effect. It disturbs her to know I am that ... dependent on her continued existence for my own. I am gradually beginning to understand why that is, thanks to sessions with our ship's counselor, but it does not change how I feel or would proceed in such an event. If Kathryn were to die, I would find a way to terminate my own existence soon after."

She raised her eyes to meet her counterpart's and realized that she had surprised and shocked her. Which meant of course, that what Hansen had been saying had been hyperbole, used for effect as so many Humans do. Seven stifled a sigh and realized she was expecting Borg-like behavior from someone who had never been Borg. It was hard to remember that sometimes.

Hansen's folded her hands neatly on her lap, and stared at them. "You mean that, don't you?" she said quietly.

"I would not say it otherwise," Seven remarked. She regarded the other woman for a long moment. "Am I to assume that you did not?"

"I ... I don't know," Hansen admitted with difficulty. She took a breath. "You know, when I'm with you, I realize how much a person says things without realizing what they're actually talking about ... of all the consequences there are included in it." She lifted her head and looked at the Borg. "Yes," she said finally. "I think I do mean it. Without Kathryn, I would not want to live." She paused and forced herself to add with reluctant honesty; "But I probably would. There would be too many counselors and family members around to see me through somehow."

Seven nodded. "I accept that," she said. "For you. However, I could not be stopped from carrying out what I believe is right." She raised her hand, the left one with the metallic mesh which blurred briefly, allowing keen-edged blades to appear. "I am Borg."

Hansen was even more disturbed by this, and Seven returned her implant to its regular appearance, feeling a need to ease the sudden tension between them. "However, I also accept that Kathryn would not like it, believing life is too important to discard easily, and as I continue to work with Sek and understand why, I have come to believe that somewhat myself. Particularly if children are involved. Life is precious, and as time goes by, as more and more people become a part of my life, I realize that those people would be terribly hurt by such a choice." She searched for the words. "It is no longer the simple decision it would have been a year or even a few months ago."

Hansen swallowed visibly, her throat working as Seven watched. "I guess ... we're really different after all," she said, a bit huskily.

Seven inclined her head and decided to change the subject, accepting that this one was far too uncomfortable for the two to discuss. "I wish to thank you," she said gently.

Hansen, slightly startled once more, leaned back on the couch. "For what?"

"Your donation of your genetic material," Seven said softly. "Those words are inadequate, of course, to express our gratitude. I simply want you to know how much it means to us, how very much it has impacted our lives."

Hansen squirmed uncomfortably. "It was just a few cells, Seven," she said. "It's not as if I missed them."

"No," Seven corrected firmly. "It is far more than that. It is Kathryn's and my future. Our children will be a part of you as well."

Hansen definitely looked uncomfortable now. "I'm ... glad I could help," she said lamely.

Seven studied her and realized that while she might not wish to show it, Hansen was cognizant of how important her gift had been to the Borg and the captain. It was sufficient.

"Have you considered children?" she asked curiously.

Hansen shook her head. "I'm not particularly the maternal type," she said, shrugging. "Besides, I'd probably be the same sort of parent mine were, and frankly, that's enough to scare anyone away from motherhood."

"I see," Seven said slowly, though she truly didn't.

"They're here, you know," Hansen said quietly.

Blinking, Seven regarded her, not quite understanding what she was talking about.

"My parents," Hansen explained, eyeing her oddly as if not sure how this news would be received. "Your parents, too, in a way, I guess. They're part of the scientific team we were escorting to Deep Space Five for the military conference there. I haven't spoken to either of them about you ... well, honestly, I don't speak to them much at the best of times ... but I bet they'd love to meet you. Particularly when they discover the Borg aspect."

Seven was suddenly aware that she was having considerable trouble breathing, to the point where her nanoprobes had to take over and regulate it, forcing her to take a deep breath, and then another. In a part of her mind that wasn't gibbering about in complete dismay and consternation, she idly wondered if this was why Hansen fainted whenever she received a shock ... she just didn't have the nanoprobes to force her to retain consciousness in the face of all the physiological responses to astounding news.

"Seven?"

The young woman managed to swallow. "Your parents are ... here?" she repeated.

"Yeah, on deck nine, section four," Hansen remarked. "I don't know if they're aware you're here or even that Voyager has been transferred to an alternate reality, but once they find out, they're definitely going to want to meet you."

Seven felt a rushing in her ears that could not entirely be from the blood in her veins ... it seemed far too loud for that.

"I shall ... consider that option," she managed finally.

Hansen frowned faintly as she looked at her, then must have decided to let it go for now.

"Let me know, and I'll set it up," she said mildly. She looked around her room. "I suppose Captain Janeway is right, I should get something to eat."

"If you would allow me?" Seven offered, wanting something ... anything ... to occupy her mind, which had not quite refocused yet.

Hansen managed a tired grin. "I was hoping you'd ask," she said, gesturing toward the replicator. Obviously, she remembered with great fondness, the meal Seven had prepared the last time the alternate counterparts had crossed paths. "By all means, be my guest."

Seven quickly complied, using the touch pad to input a combination of ingredients and food items to create a dish that she felt might be appropriate to the situation. Two bowls materialized on a tray and she carefully carried it over to where Hansen had cleared a spot on the table ... by brushing off the hard-copy specs and several padds onto the spare chairs, not seeming to notice when a few landed on the floor instead. Seven did not roll her eyes, but she wanted to as she placed the food on the table in front of the scientist who regarded it skeptically.

"Chicken soup? You're giving me chicken soup?"

Seven raised an eyebrow and took a seat herself. She was not particularly hungry, but she knew it was easier to make someone else eat when she shared their meal. At least, that had been her experience with both Kathryn and Naomi.

"Yes," she said, curiously. "Is there a problem?"

"It's a little cliché, don't you think?"

"Is it?" Seven asked, really not knowing what her counterpart was referring to.

Hansen regarded her for a few moments more, then shook her head and picked up her spoon ... which was all Seven really wanted.

"How is it you can make even chicken soup taste good?" the science officer asked as she dipped her spoon back into the bowl.

"Gretchen Janeway taught me how to recreate her recipes to give Kathryn a sense of home, and since my initial forays were successful, I continued to do so. Now, I find preparing our meals to be a relaxing and creative endeavor."

"Ah, another difference," Hansen said. "In our universe, Kathryn and her mother haven't gotten along very well since she returned from the Delta Quadrant and married Mark. I never understood why, exactly."

"That is most unfortunate," Seven said. "I found both Gretchen and Phoebe Janeway to be very warm and loving people."

"I met them once." The science officer shrugged. "It was at the official launching of Voyager when it was recommissioned with the transwarp drive. They came from Earth to wish Kathryn off."

"Did you speak with them?"

"Me? Oh no. I don't do well with parents, remember? Besides, Kathryn looked uncomfortable enough, so I stayed with the rest of the senior officers and shook hands with all the dignitaries instead."

"That is also unfortunate. I learned a great many things about Kathryn from both of them, and it has made me better able to care for her."

"Is that what cooking and making coffee is?" Hansen asked. "Taking care of her?"

Seven considered it. "Yes, I believe so. By preparing Kathryn's meals, I know that she is getting the proper nutrition at regular intervals which is important to her well being." The Borg paused. "But it is more than that," she continued thoughtfully, "Kathryn appreciates and is pleased by the foods I prepare which, in turn, makes me happy. I give her a thermos of coffee to take to her ready room each day, and she has told me on more than one occasion that she considers this to be a very loving gesture. These are not tasks that I feel obligated to do for her; they are gifts that I offer to show my love."

Hansen seemed to think about that. "So giving her a thermos of coffee is like letting her know you love her all day long, even when you're not together." A wistful look came over her face. "That's nice."

"Then I shall share with you some of Gretchen's recipes. There are several which are simple to make and require little preparation." Seven dared to look around the cluttered room. "And limited cleanup," she added.

"My family are scientists, not traditionalists. I don't think my mother would know what to do with raw protein much less fresh vegetables and a heating unit." Hansen took another spoonful of soup. "Still, if you could do it, I suppose it wouldn't kill me to try."

As Seven observed her counterpart getting some nutrition into her system, she tried very hard not to think of anything else ... particularly who was on deck nine, section four. That was something that she decided was too much to deal with at the moment.

With all the long-range sensors reporting no other ships within their vicinity, Voyager began helping the alternate universe crew put their ship back together. Janeway had discovered from peeking at logs ... something she did not officially have permission to access since they belonged to Johnson's vessel and not hers ... that the overwhelming majority of the crew were green cadets fresh from the Academy, with very few key positions covered by anyone with experience. Thus, despite the fact that  Voyager II was technologically superior, Janeway's vessel boasted a more skilled and seasoned crew, putting her ship in command of the situation ... though she remembered pressing the regulation on the other side on at least one other occasion. To keep the confusion down, Janeway ordered only essential personnel be allowed to go from one ship to another, and then only after Tuvok had checked the manifests to make sure the crewmember's counterpart was not on the other ship. That was fine until Voyager II's chief engineer and Starfleet legend Montgomery Scott insisted on being allowed to review Voyager's engine room before he'd let anyone else touch his 'precious bairns'.

To Janeway's surprise, B'Elanna Torres, rather than being outraged by the implication of incompetence, had been astounded and tremendously flattered by the demand. Apparently, she had learned more than just what rules could be used to bypass other rules during her time at Starfleet Academy ... she had also developed an extreme sort of hero worship for certain famous engineers who had come before her. Not to mention, she was nervous about meeting such a personage. The Klingon had ordered her entire staff to scrub down every square millimeter of the engine room, and triple-check every system. When the snowy-haired Commander stepped off the transporter pad, B'Elanna was there in her full dress whites, her brown eyes wide with awe. Janeway thought the lieutenant's stance was stiffer than she had ever seen the Klingon at attention.

"What's this, Lass?" he asked in thick Scottish accent. "Ye look like a Klingon, but not quite."

"I'm half-Klingon on my mother's side, Sir," B'Elanna said respectfully.

Janeway's eyebrows rose above her bangs. Did her feisty engineer just say 'Sir'?

"Aye, and on your father's side?" he asked, not caring that he was holding everything up by carrying on this conversation. Then again, when it came to the engineer who kept the legendary Enterprise going under James Kirk, certain allowances had to be made.

"My father was Human, but I was raised Klingon, Commander Scott, Sir."

Now, Janeway wondered if she had been dumped in an alternate reality. Both Sir and rank in the same address? Perhaps Lt. Torres needed to be checked out by the Doctor.

"Well, now I once met a Klingon that was raised by Humans, Lieutenant...?"

"Torres, B'Elanna Torres," she said, holding her hand out. To her surprise and Janeway's amusement, Commander Scott tucked the Klingon's arm under his own and patted her hand.

"Well then, my dear B'Elanna Torres, why don't you show me your engine room? I've found a way of recalibrating the EPS manifold parameters that should boost your output by ten percent."

"I-I'd love to, Sir," the overwhelmed Klingon said.

"Please Lass, call me Scotty," he said.

Astounded, Janeway watched the two officers stroll away, disappearing through the door leading to the rest of the ship.

"Interesting," Tuvok said from just behind Janeway's ear. "I've never seen such a look of awe on her face before."

"You realize who that is, don't you Mr. Tuvok?"

"Of course, Captain. That is Commander Montgomery Scott, born 2222, enrolled in Starfleet Academy in 2242, highest rank obtained was that of Captain. Served as Chief Engineer under Captain James T. Kirk starting in 2264. Lost in transporter loop in 2294 and rescued in 2369 by the USS Enterprise under the command of Captain Jean-Luc Picard. Shall I go on, Captain?" he asked politely.

"No Tuvok, you've made your point. I should have known better than to ask you that question. After all, you did serve under Captain Sulu during your first career with Starfleet."

"Then, why did you?" he asked curiously.

"Beyond his Starfleet record, Commander Scott is a living legend when it comes to engineering," she said, ignoring his question. "Think about it this way, Mr. Tuvok. Suppose Ambassador Spock were suddenly to appear in the Delta Quadrant?"

"It would be ... most interesting," he allowed. "I believe I understand what you are trying to say."

"I'm glad you do," she said. "Now if you will excuse me, Commander Chakotay has the conn and I have some business that I need to take care of on the alternate Voyager."

"Understood Captain. Shall I prepare an escort for you? Lt. Ro perhaps?"

Janeway arched an eyebrow. "Even if she didn't have a counterpart over there, which prohibits her from going, I hardly need her, Tuvok. I'm going from my ship to my ship in my own universe. What could possibly go wrong?"

"Do you wish me to list them in order of probability or in descending degree of danger?"

"That's what I like about you, Mr. Tuvok," she said as she stepped up onto the dais. "You're such an optimist."

"Indeed," he muttered once the transport had begun, certain the captain was out of earshot.

However, he underestimated his captain's ears, keen even while dematerializing, because Janeway heard him quite clearly. She smiled all the way from Voyager II's transporter room to the medical center where she did a quick assessment of her counterpart, who was either asleep or still unconscious on the biobed.

"How is she?" Janeway asked as she walked across sickbay.

"Kathryn will be fine," Dr. Pulaski said, motioning toward her office. "Let's talk in here."

Janeway took a seat facing the desk, noting that the large brown leather chair Kate Pulaski sank into was not Starfleet issue. The captain ... who had faced the Hirogen and the Borg, who had discovered a fossil which guaranteed the Janeway name would continue in the history books, a capable and skilled daughter taking after her father, one of Starfleet's best ... felt twenty years disappear from her, once again a green cadet in her instructor's office. Kate Pulaski altered the windows, making them one way and allowing them a sense of privacy from the rest of sickbay.

"I assume your life mirrored my Kathryn's?"

"Up until she chose to go around Borg space and I chose to go through it," Janeway said, wondering privately which Pulaski thought to be the right decision. "Any differences that might have existed up until that point were insignificant."

"And you're married to a Borg?"

"I married Annika over a year ago," Janeway clarified, not at all certain she liked the tone in her mentor's voice. But then, Pulaski had always pitched her tone in the most provocative way possible, eternally prodding whomever she was facing and taking their measure. "She was assimilated by the Borg when she was six, and was a drone for eighteen years until I severed her from the Collective three years ago. She does maintain several implants as a result of her assimilation."

"Yes," Pulaski said. "Your hologram made sure to upload his vast reports on Borg/Human physiology."

"One never knows when an obscure piece of information may come in handy," the captain said, recalling her mentor drilling that into her head back at the Academy.

"Very good, Kathryn," Pulaski said, relaxing into her chair. "Your..."

"'Counterpart' works well," Janeway offered.

"Counterpart," the doctor gave a small smile of thanks for the word, "has the same stubborn streak you had back at the Academy."

"I would like to think I have some of that left myself."

"You've been tamed, Kathryn ... and before you get yourself in a pique, I mean that in a good way." Dr. Pulaski opened a drawer and removed two glasses along with a unlabeled bottle of amber liquid, blinking as Janeway started to raise her hand in refusal. "A word of advice, Kathryn. When a chief medical officer brings you into her office and offers you a drink, don't turn it down. I suspect you haven't had a lot of that in the past few years. Holograms probably don't drink."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Janeway said, still feeling uneasy about being alone with her former mentor and wondering if she should try to defend her EMH. Meekly, she dropped her hand to her lap.

"I knew you learned something from me," Kate said, pushing the glass across the desk. "I watched you and Annika's counterpart..."

"Seven will do," Janeway said as she sniffed the golden liquid and tentatively took a sip. She realized instantly that this fine liquor was not synthehol, nor did not come from the ship's replicator. It was clearly a well aged brandy made the good old-fashioned way and she took another appreciative sip.

"Seven ... I watched the way you two are together. It's so different from the way my two stubborn girls act that I found it hard to believe that you and Kathryn are indeed the same person."

"In certain ways, we're not," Janeway said, assuming a relaxed pose in the chair as she smiled faintly. "Seven and I have learned that communication and honesty serve us best, whereas I'm not sure our counterparts have learned that lesson. Actually, with Seven, I didn't have much choice. The Borg don't utilize deception, there are no lies with them and she simply doesn't allow much dissembling for herself. As time progresses, she's also become very perceptive at knowing when I'm trying to dodge an issue." She regarded her glass idly and returned to the topic at hand. "I understand your Kathryn has been struggling with something for quite a while now," she ventured.

"You've become more perceptive yourself, Kathryn," Pulaski noted approvingly. "I'm worried about her. Kathryn Johnson battles with depression, and she doesn't let anyone in, not me, not even Lt. Hansen, while she does it."

Janeway nodded absently, remembering times when she had done the exact same thing. "Any insight on what caused this onset?"

"I'm afraid this is one area of medicine where my skills are lacking." Pulaski took a sip of her brandy. "I was hoping you might be able to help shed some light on the subject."

It was now clear why the captain had been summoned. "I'm not sure what I can do to help," Janeway said slowly. "Your Kathryn and I are separate people who now have years of differing lifestyle and experience behind us. Your Kathryn was married and divorced, a padd pusher for Starfleet. I've spent all that time here in the Delta Quadrant, in command of what has become a generational vessel."

"You're both still the same arrogant girl who dared to question me the first day of class." Pulaski's eyes twinkled for a moment. "And if all is equal in the universes, the same one who introduced There Once Was An Instructor Named Pulaski to the annals of Academy life."

Janeway flushed hotly. "How long have you known?" she asked, knowing better than to deny it.

"You thought you knew it all then, Kathryn. It took me less than a day to track it back to the padd in your quarters."

Janeway looked appropriately guilty. "I do apologize for that. It was immature of me in the extreme."

Pulaski laughed and leaned back in her chair. "That's the same answer I received when I reminded Captain Johnson about it just before we left space dock. You may have a different life experience now, but you're still the same Kathryn Janeway." The doctor's face sobered. "I just wish Kathryn Johnson could find whatever it is that Kathryn Janeway found ... before it's too late. Will you talk to her?"

Janeway considered it. "I don't know how willing she would be to listen. If she's anything like I was four years ago, I doubt I could even get her to admit anything was wrong. As soon as she's off that biobed, she's going to be right back on the bridge."

"I can fix that right now," Pulaski said, putting her glass down and resting her arms on her desk. "Computer, this is Chief Medical Officer Kate Pulaski."

"Identity confirmed."

"Computer, record that, as of this stardate, I have relieved Captain Kathryn Johnson of command due to unfitness. All duties are ceased until further notice. Authorization Pulaski three-five-eight-two-six-alpha."

"Authorization confirmed, so noted."

Silence filled the office for several minutes, both women understanding the implication of the chief medical officer pulling a captain off duty. In any universe, Kathryn would not be happy. It was a mark on their record that no captain wanted, especially the daughter of Admiral Edward Janeway.

"When can I talk to her?" Janeway asked, unable to stand the stifling silence any longer.

"Still impatient, are you? Finish your drink, Kathryn. She'll be sedated until late in the day tomorrow, and considering all the damage reports, we're not going anywhere for a while."

"Voyager II suffered a great deal of damage," Janeway agreed, having seen the reports earlier. "I've had to double the engineering detachment to help with repairs."

"Voyager II?"

Janeway did not change expression. "You're in my universe," she pointed out evenly. "If it were the other way around, my ship would be designated Voyager II."

"Of course," Pulaski said dryly. She took a breath. "As you are undoubtedly aware, most of this crew are still wet behind the ears ... or freshly released from Jaros II."

"Yes, I saw Lt. Ro when we first came into Sickbay yesterday," Janeway said. "She's turned out to be a valuable member of my Voyager."

"Our Ensign Ro has a chip on her shoulder the size of Bajor," Pulaski said, refilling her glass and topping off the visiting captain's.

"Mine did as well, but it's been tempered over time. I truly believe she will make a good captain someday."

Pulaski looked dubious, but gave a small nod. "I'm sure if that's what you want from her, you'll find a way to make it happen. You always did."

Janeway took a mouthful from her drink, rolling the brandy gently around on her tongue as she found herself quite pleased by the compliment.

"I will admit, you do have some very important differences from my Kathryn," Pulaski continued. "It's more than just experiences. Your outlook and approach to things are different and I do mean that in a good way."

"I have Seven to thank for that," Janeway admitted. "She's the one that taught me to be honest and open with my feelings and to look at every situation from all angles, not just as a captain." She relaxed even more in her chair and crossed her ankle over her knee as she took another mouthful of the smooth liquor. She realized her earlier jitters at being around her former mentor had completely slipped away and a fond smile came over her face. "She's the best thing that ever happened to me and I love her with everything in my heart." It was rare that Janeway had anyone to speak so freely with about her feelings for Seven. "She makes me ... complete."

Pulaski had a wistful smile on her face despite trying to hide it behind her glass. "You are truly blessed, Kathryn. To have found the love of your life and been lucky enough to have that love returned. I've tried, and after three divorces, have come to the conclusion that it's just not in the cards for me." She looked out into the main area of Sickbay, and the person resting on the center biobed. "I know Annika loves Kathryn. I've seen her too many times sitting by that bed just holding Johnson's hand not to believe it. I also know that deep inside Kathryn loves her, too, but something is keeping them from realizing what you and Seven have."

Janeway waggled her glass. "Considering how long it took me to figure it out, I'm not optimistic," she noted.

"Yet, all we can do is try, Kathryn," Pulaski said, and fixed her with a glance which left Janeway with the sinking feeling that there was probably no way out of this one for her. No matter how much she wiggled and squirmed to get away.

Seven of Nine looked up as Janeway entered their quarters, judging how things were progressing by the expression on her face. Janeway was serious but not strained, sober, but not distressed, so the Borg supposed they weren't as bad as certainly, her counterpart was making them out to be. She put her padd down on the coffee table and leaned back against the couch as Janeway stretched out, putting her head on Seven's lap.

"Tired?" Seven queried as she gently put her fingertips to her partner's temples and began to massage them.

"That's one word to describe it," Janeway admitted as she closed her eyes, the lines around them smoothing out as the Borg worked her magic. "Mmm, that's feels nice."

"It has been a long ... and very surprising day," Seven noted, her mind drifting briefly to the offer Hansen had made to her.

"That it has," Janeway allowed. "Voyager II maintains station-keeping off our port bow and for now, things seem to have settled down a little over there." She paused. "To be honest, they look like they've been through worse than we have in the past few months. It's almost as if they're enjoying this ... like this crisis is shore leave or something similar."

"Dr. Hansen did indicate as such," Seven allowed quietly. She tilted her head. "Their ship has encountered many volatile situations, and it appears that their Federation has become as dangerous a place as our Delta Quadrant. I am concerned, Kathryn. When we last saw them, Captain Johnson and Dr. Hansen seemed ... happy. I thought they would continue to progress as we did, increasing that happiness exponentially. But now I am under the impression that they are less happy than we have ever been at any time in our relationship ... including when you lost your memories."

"They haven't gone through the same things we have, darling," Janeway responded gently. "They don't realize what they have to lose ... or perhaps just my counterpart doesn't. Certainly, Dr. Hansen has had more than one occasion to see how close she's come to losing everything."

"Captain Johnson does not speak to Dr. Hansen the way you speak to me," Seven said, faint disapproval coloring her tone.

Janeway smiled slightly, a minor curl to the right corner of her mouth. "To be fair, Hansen doesn't communicate well, either," she pointed out. "Unlike your breathtaking preference for complete and total honesty, Dr. Hansen was raised differently. She was raised like the rest of us poor Humans with our immature desire to avoid emotional confrontations."

Seven considered that. "Perhaps spending time as a Borg drone is good for one," she offered.

"Possibly," Janeway allowed with humor. "However, I'm not sure you'd get her to volunteer to be assimilated just to improve her ability to communicate with Johnson."

Seven lifted her eyebrow, her implant glinting briefly in the low lights. "That is undoubtedly accurate," she agreed. She ceased the temple massage once Janeway seemed to be fully relaxed and rested her left hand lightly on the captain's chest. The other, she placed on the top of Janeway's auburn hair, her thumb idly stroking over Kathryn's brow. "Will you speak to Captain Johnson for her?" she added.

Janeway opened her eyes, the shade far more blue than grey, but still holding a trace of the lighter color to indicate her unease. "You're the second one who's asked me to talk to Johnson about her love life," she said with a touch of exasperation. "Honestly, darling, I don't know that it's such a good idea."

"But who knows her better than you?" Seven pointed out. "And with whom would she be more apt to reveal her innermost feelings?"

Janeway shook her head, looking slightly disgruntled. "I'm not going to say you're wrong in that," she grumbled finally, after searching futilely for some way to counter it. "But it might not be enough."

"That may be so," Seven noted dryly. She bent down and brushed her lips over Janeway's. "However, you may be able to reach her where no one else could." She paused. "I believe in you, Kathryn," she insisted.

Janeway just groaned. "I'm not going to win with this, am I?" she allowed, almost to herself. "When did I stop having control over these things?"

"This is not about control, Kathryn," Seven suggested helpfully. "It is about helping two people in need. Two people who are, in some unique way, our family. I will be speaking to Annika to assist her because I know in my heart that I am the only one who can truly understand her now. Would you do any less for your 'sister'?"

Janeway eyed her partner ruefully. "Fine," she muttered. "I'll talk to Johnson. But I can't promise anything."

"It is enough that you try, Kathryn," Seven remarked and kissed her again, with a little more overt interest.

"Mmm," Janeway murmured when they parted, "is that to be part of my reward for doing this?"

"If a reward is what you require," Seven allowed, smiling faintly. "But I am sure I can offer a more substantial one than merely a kiss."

"Darling, there is nothing 'mere' about your kisses," Janeway responded softly. "You know that."

Seven simply smiled and kissed her again, putting more of herself into it, pleased by how Janeway's hand came up to cup her cheek, the captain's knee bending restlessly as she half turned her body toward her partner. Then again, a slow, melting kiss that inspired a bit of a low purr in the smaller woman's throat. Idly, the Borg let her hand drift down, covering the captain's right breast, squeezing it through the tunic and sweater, inciting a low moan of pleasure into her partner's mouth.

"Hmm, we're going to have a late dinner again, aren't we?" Janeway asked, gasping slightly as their lips finally parted.

Seven's metal capped fingertips toyed with the tiny lump which had appeared beneath the material, circling it provocatively as her cranial implant sent a signal to activate her sonic emitters, the subtle vibration transmitting through the the uniform to the sensitive flesh beneath. Janeway moaned again, this time with appreciation.

"I can prepare dinner now if you prefer," the Borg teased, a heady whisper in her ear.

"Oh, I think ... I can wait," Janeway told her, her eyes deepening their shade to a sapphire, almost glowing as she drew back to regard her partner.

"If you are absolutely sure," Seven prodded, and Janeway laughed, rolling off the couch and standing in front of the Borg, reaching down to grasp her hands.

"Positive," the captain said, her voice lowering in timbre, sending a shiver up Seven's spine. She tugged her into the bedroom where slowly ... very slowly ... they undressed each other next to the bed.

As they sank together onto the crisp linen sheets, Seven noted that Janeway's body was warm, almost too warm, as it always was when she had worked hard. It was almost as if she became fevered in her weariness and Seven instinctively gentled her caresses, sensing that her partner required tenderness now, not aggression. Her kisses were slow and sweet as she made love to the captain with as much gentleness and soft touches as she was capable of, somehow knowing that her Kathryn needed as much comfort as passion this evening.

"Annika," Janeway whispered, low into the Borg's ear.

"Yes, Kathryn," she responded.

"I absolutely adore you. If I don't say it enough, please know it."

"I do know it, Kathryn," Seven assured her, knowing where this was undoubtedly springing from. She paused, drawing back briefly to look into the shadowed eyes. "You are not like Captain Johnson. Not even in our worst moments did you ever become so distant from me that I felt you were incapable of loving me."

Janeway studied her, eyes searching her face. "I hope so, darling," she said.

"It is the truth," Seven told her sincerely. Janeway looked at her a moment longer, then the greyish eyes darkened and she moved closer, kissing Seven with such emotion that the Borg felt it reverberate to her very bones.

She sighed a bit at the sensation of the captain's long length of warm skin against her, of soft curves and cushioning flesh which welcomed her like a homecoming. They kissed again, openly, allowing their passion to rise and ebb naturally, loving each other with a familiarity that never grew wearisome, but rather, seemed to intensify in both hotness and duration the longer they were together.

Janeway's hands moved restlessly over Seven's back, dancing over the spine in the way she loved. "I love you, my Annika," she whispered, pressing her entire length up against her. Then her arms were pulling Seven down, urging the Borg to put more weight upon her which the young woman did carefully, mindful of her greater mass. The captain's thighs parted, spreading wide to welcome her between them and Seven could feel the moisture bathing her upper leg where it pressed against her partner's heat. The Borg shifted position, lifting up to fit herself to her partner, pressing her own wetness against Janeway's, and it seemed that it was exactly what they needed, both crying out at the contact.

"Oh, god ... Annika," Janeway hissed, her head lolling on the pillows as Seven moved against her, rolling her hips with a controlled pace so that they would not lose the fragile connection of sensitive flesh against the other. "Oh ... you feel so good ... don't stop..."

"Kathryn," Seven gasped, reaching down to grasp Janeway's thigh, holding her in place as she undulated. It was only by the strongest of wills that she was able to keep from moving her hips faster as her passion increased. She threw her head back as she felt her partner's hands on her breasts, squeezing them lovingly, rolling the nipples between her fingertips. Then somehow, Janeway was able to curl up, putting her mouth on them, licking and nibbling the stiffened nubs which inflamed Seven even more. The Borg tried to maintain control, felt it slipping away irrevocably and it was almost with relief that she felt Janeway jerk beneath her, spasming, allowing her to surrender to her own pleasure which fluttered a rush of moisture over her partner, heightening and extending the captain's own climax.

Afterward, curled up in tangled blankets and warm touches, Janeway nuzzled Seven's ear, purring languidly as she nibbled the lobe trapped briefly between her teeth..

"Don't you ever stop talking to me, darling," she commanded quietly. "Even when it seems that I don't want to hear what you have to say."

"I will not," Seven responded, knowing what the captain was referring to. She smiled and kissed her partner's forehead before asking what she knew Janeway did want to hear. "Dinner?"

"Mmm, sounds good," Janeway said, and chuckled, hugging her tightly, indicating she understood on a level that did not require verbal communication. "I'm going to take a shower, but it shouldn't take long."

"Very well," Seven allowed. She took a moment more to nuzzle her. "I love you, my Kathryn."

Janeway nipped at her nose. "You're all I will ever need, Seven of Mine," she assured her.

Seven kissed her once more, then rolled out of bed and pulled on a short, black robe before heading out to the living area. Sometimes, she thought, as she undertook the mundane, yet only too meaningful task of preparing dinner for her and her partner, it took looking through another's eyes to see what one really had.

Or, in the case of Dr. Annika Hansen looking through hers, didn't have at all.

Seven sighed as she lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling. As much as she was able to forget about the Hansens throughout the evening as she concentrated on her partner, she was unable to keep them from dominating her consciousness once she had settled down in an attempt to sleep.

"What's wrong?" came the sleepy mumble as Janeway rolled over, wrapping herself around her wife and providing some much needed tactile comfort.

"I am having trouble ... collecting my thoughts," Seven offered. "You require rest."

"I require being there for you whenever you need it," Janeway said as she pushed herself up on one elbow, their voices alerting the ship's system to raise the illumination in their bedroom one eighth and allowing her to see the confusion on Seven's face. "What's bothering you, darling?"

"I am having trouble with certain choices which have been presented to me," Seven responded. "Perhaps I should have told you earlier in the evening when we were speaking of our counterparts, but I had yet to clarify things in my mind." She paused, looking slightly rueful. "I am still not clear, but I find that perhaps I cannot achieve a decision on my own."

"So why don't you roll on your stomach and I'll rub your back while you tell me about it?" Janeway ran her fingers over Seven's shoulders, surprised at how tight the muscles were. "Darling, I've never seen you this tensed up," she said with a touch of alarm.

"It is ... disconcerting," Seven said as she allowed her smaller spouse to nudge her over onto her stomach. "Annika Hansen wishes me to meet ... her parents," she said, clearly troubled with the words.

"Her parents?" Janeway repeated, her voice heavy with astonishment. "How is that even possible?"

"Doctors Magnus and Erin Hansen are part of the civilian attachment to their ship which was being ferried to Deep Space Five to assist in a scientific endeavor there. They are currently housed on deck nine section four."

"Oh." Janeway took a deep breath. "How do you feel about that?"

Seven gave a small smile. "That is why I am not asleep right now," she said simply. "I do not understand how I feel."

The captain nodded, her face pensive. "I guess that makes sense. Let's start by getting these muscles to relax a little bit, okay? I'll be right back." Janeway rolled off the bed and entered the living room, pausing briefly to check on Jake, who was sleeping contentedly on the couch. It took a minute for her to find what she was looking for in the replicator programs but when it materialized she knew it would be worth the wait.

"What did you require out there?"

"You'll see," Janeway said, pointedly ignoring the wary look in her wife's eyes. She straddled the Borg's hips, secretly enjoying the tickling sensation as her vulnerable flesh brushed over Seven's buttocks. She twisted the knob at the end of the container and after carefully squeezing a few drops on her fingers, Kathryn set the tube down and ran her hands lightly over Seven's back.

"Oh." The blonde woman's head came off the pillow in surprise. "What is that?"

"Heated oil," Janeway said, using the tube to put liberal amounts over Seven's back now that she was sure it was not too hot.

"I smell spice."

"It's scented. Now put your head down and close your eyes." As gently as she could, Janeway ran her oil soaked hands over the smooth skin, still amazed by how tense her Borg was. "So Dr. Hansen's parents, who are essentially the same people as your own parents, are on the other Voyager." She did not have to look up to know she could see the other ship through the viewport above the bed. "Are you afraid to meet them?"

"I am not afraid ... yet, at the same time, I am experiencing a certain reluctance to encounter them. Does that make sense?"

"It makes perfect sense, love," Janeway said, increasing the pressure of her fingers as she felt the muscles reluctantly give way to her expertise in relaxing her wife. "It would be a very emotional encounter for you."

"And I am still troubled by the Mimic," Seven said.

Janeway winced as she worked out the tenseness along one shoulder.

"I suspect that it will be a long time before you are completely over that," she allowed quietly.

"I suspect that is an understatement," Seven said, with a touch of dryness. She was silent for a few moments, obviously enjoying the sensation her partner was providing her. When she spoke again, it was in a very thoughtful tone. "Annika indicates that she has a negative relationship with her mother, and her interaction with her father is at best, barely civil." The Borg picked her head up and glanced over her shoulder at Janeway. "Dr. Hansen harbors much anger and hostility toward her parents. They have yet to interact since arriving on Voyager."

"Why?" Janeway asked, honestly curious.

"The Hansens are not proponents of Starfleet," Seven explained. "Indeed, when Annika chose to work with Starfleet on her transwarp project, they were most upset and were positively outraged later when she chose to accept a commission. That is when her mother stopped speaking to her. Then, the Hansens were 'drafted' by the Federation into the war effort and apparently accord further blame to Annika about this." She sighed. "I believe this only adds to my counterpart's lack of ability to deal with Captain Johnson. It appears to be all tied together."

Janeway took a deep breath. "You're probably correct," she said, prodding at a particularly difficult knot. "I know from experience that nothing can aggravate an already volatile situation than by adding a few relatives to the mix."

"Indeed, you cannot be speaking of Gretchen," Seven objected. "She makes an intolerable situation much better." Her memory of being transported to the Alpha Quadrant, of being lost and frightened, crossed her mind, and the comfort she had found in the presence of Janeway's mother had possibly been the only thing that had gotten her through it.

"That's because she's not your mother," Janeway grumbled, almost to herself, then grinned, bending down to briefly kiss her partner's shoulder blade. "Sorry, darling, don't get me wrong; she adores you almost as much as I do. You're probably the daughter that she should have had. But believe me, she can get to me as easily as the Hansens can get to Annika ... or that Mimic, in impersonating your mother, got to you. Parents can pull emotional strings in their child that no one else can."

"Do you think Dr. Hansen's parents could pull such 'strings' with me?" Seven asked. "One might say that they are my parents as well, in some odd sense."

Janeway considered that carefully. "That's hard to say," she allowed slowly, working her way through it and wondering why Seven would ask such a thing. "You certainly don't have the same history and as individuals, well ... you grew up not really knowing them as parents at all. They, on the other hand, will look at you and see their 'daughter', with significant differences that they ... their counterparts ... were directly responsible for. It's a hard one to call, darling." She paused and ran her thumbs along Seven's spine. "In any event, you know you don't have to do anything that you don't want to do. If this is something that will be too difficult for you to handle, then stay away from them. I don't think it's crucial that you get to meet them."

Seven was silent, thinking about it as Janeway continued her massage.

"But you still believe I should," Seven said finally.

Janeway stifled her sigh. "I'm saying that I don't know what to advise you about this," she admitted. "Darling, I can see this as having a great deal of potential to hurt you and you know I would never want that. But I also realize that not doing it, also has the potential to hurt you. I'd hate to have you look back a few months or years down the road and regret you didn't take the chance to interact with your parents ... even if it was only by proxy."

Seven peered over her shoulder at the captain. "Your choice would be to 'take the chance'," she noted. "It always seems to be."

"But you're not me, my darling," Janeway told her. "This has to be your decision." Privately the old insecurity and fear crept up on her, the same feeling she had when the Mimic had her convinced that she was dealing with her mother-in-law. How would Erin Hansen deal with the knowledge that her daughter, in any universe, was in love with a Starfleet captain almost twenty years her senior? Sensing her partner was relaxed now, she changed the massage to a back scratch which made Seven wiggle with pleasure. "Why do you want to know if the elder Hansens can pull your emotional strings?"

She could see Seven's cheek and right eye, the Borg's head turned sideways on the pillow. The young woman blinked sandy lashes, light shadows on her pale skin.

"I believe Dr. Hansen has an ulterior motive for wanting me to meet her parents," Seven noted carefully, after a moment.

Janeway was surprised. Seven seldom had such 'hunches' but they were rarely wrong, perhaps because she had to feel them quite strongly before she would ever comment on them.

"What makes you say that?" she queried.

Seven shifted beneath her, indicating that she wanted to roll over. Janeway obligingly lifted up, and once Seven had settled herself, stretched out beside her, resting her head on the young woman's shoulder as the Borg wrapped her left arm warmly around her. Janeway drew the covers up around them both and brought the lights down once more.

"I do not know, Kathryn," Seven admitted finally. "Perhaps because of the way she looked at me when she made the suggestion ... as I look to you when I need you to do something for me, despite knowing you will not wish to. Yet, I still require you to do it because I am unable to accomplish it myself."

Janeway worked her way through that. "You mean, she might think you can get through to them where she can't?"

"Perhaps," Seven allowed. She paused. "I do not believe they know of her intimate relationship with Captain Johnson. Annika knows, however, that I would never hide my relationship with you. That could be significant."

Janeway chuckled. "Oh, I get it," she said. "She wants you to test the waters first, see how they react to you about their 'daughter' being married to a Starfleet captain and if it's not too extreme, then she can decide whether to tell them about Johnson or not."

"This does my counterpart little credit," Seven said unhappily. "She is apparently manipulative."

"Hmm, maybe she's just a little more devious than you," Janeway said. She reached up and rested her fingertips on Seven's chin. "Darling, you are developing a bit of a fondness for the art of manipulation, yourself, remember? Are you so surprised to find that your counterpart has also learned its usefulness?"

Seven sighed. "Now, perhaps I understand why you do not like me to utilize it," she said. "It makes one feel ... uncomfortable."

"Well, if you do decide to meet these people, Annika," Janeway said, yawning, "do it for your own reasons, not anyone else's."

Seven squeezed her lightly. "I will, Kathryn," she promised.

Janeway closed her eyes, relaxing into the comfortable feeling of being curled up against her wife. "I love you," she told the Borg quietly. "And no matter what you decide, I'll be here for you."

"I love you, my Kathryn," Seven said, brushing her lips over the auburn hair. There had been a distinct increase in proclaiming their love to each other verbally since encountering the other Voyager. The young woman understood what was motivating it of course, but what surprised her is how often she wished to reaffirm it physically as well. "Kathryn, I know that we already made love this evening and that you are tired..."

Janeway laughed, a low, husky chuckle. "Are you 'in the mood' again, Seven of Mine?" she asked playfully.

"I feel an urge to share intimacy," Seven told her honestly. "It is a constant desire since encountering our counterparts." She tightened her embrace slightly. "It is as if I am afraid that somehow, we will begin to act as they do if we are not careful."

"Hmm, I don't think there's much chance of that," Janeway murmured, sliding her hand over Seven's hip. "But if you need to be reassured, then I'm certainly not adverse to ... helping out." Her fingertips trailed over the Borg's stomach, tracing delicate lines of sensuality along scars so faint as to be nonexistent.

Seven inched closer to the body next to her. "Kathryn, if you are not..."

"Shh," Janeway interrupted, silencing her with a quick kiss. "Love, just lay back while I show you how much I utterly adore you."

Seven hesitated, then did as she was told, relaxing under the long elegant fingers which stroked her so languidly, moving from her throat down over her breasts lightly, teasingly, along the line of muscles in her abdomen and combing luxuriously through the thin blonde triangle, dipping down fleetingly to touch her tender area before moving up again. The Borg's respiration deepened and quickened, the sensation flowing through her nerve endings like a plasma wash through a warp conduit.

"This feels good," she murmured.

"Oh, I want you to feel good, love," Janeway promised in her most provocative tone, her lips mere millimeters from Seven's ear. "I love your body, the way it responds to me. I can make you so wet, so ready ... just by touching you like this." Her tongue flicked out, exploring the lobe, enhancing the words which flowed so easily from her lips. Without involving her own desire, Janeway was able to remain coherent ... and quite explicit ... throughout the pleasure she was providing to her partner who swallowed and sighed, surrendering utterly to the captain's hands and mouth.

Did Johnson ever made love to Annika this way? Seven thought muzzily, then realized that it was unlikely ... no one was as loving or as competent in their skill as her Kathryn. She arched slowly as Janeway touched her, sheer pleasure searing her skin as if it were on fire and she wondered how much of it was a result of the oil Janeway had utilized earlier that still remained on her fingertips.

"You are all mine, my darling," Janeway whispered, stroking Seven fully, immersing her hand in the moisture she found, slipping into her with ease. Seven gasped as she was penetrated in all places, two fingers thrust deep within her, Kathryn's smallest finger easing into her from behind, the captain's thumb pressing insistently on the sensitive nodule and she knew that she had to keep herself from moving too much, aware of how easily it would snap Kathryn's wrist if she became overly enthusiastic. Forcing herself to remain intensified the sensation, drawing out the pleasure as Janeway continued to murmur the most astounding things in her ear. As it strengthened, Seven found it harder and harder to control the undulating movements of her hips.

"Kathryn..."

It was both a whisper of love and a plea which Janeway understood, moving over so that her torso was covering the Borg, pinning her in place. Seven gratefully surrendered to the mouth that sought out her breasts, the captain's lips covering the closest nipple possessively, sucking on it hard. Seven's moans were swallowed in the darkness as the first wave hit her, then another, unable to prevent the spasms from shaking her, but the comforting weight of her wife on top of her kept them from becoming too violent. The restraint on her body prolonged her sensation, the tremors rippling strong throughout her nervous system and Seven could only whimper helplessly as she clutched desperately at the metal bar set in the head of the bed. Her left hand twisted it harshly as the captain's fingers drew her climax out until there was nothing left, the sound of tortured metal squealing harshly into the night.

"Oh, Kathryn," she whispered, swallowing hard when everything ... fingers, mouth and ecstasy ... finally released her. "Thank you."

"Mmm, don't thank me, darling," Janeway muttered with amusement as she kissed her way up to the Borg's lips. "I enjoy having my way with you like this every so often. Gives me something to think about during those boring staff meetings while Neelix is going over his messhall allocations." She nibbled Seven's bottom lip gently, then settled against her once more, draping her arm heavily over the Borg's body. "Go to sleep, Annika. Tomorrow will be just as busy as today was."

"Yes, Kathryn," Seven mumbled, feeling drowsiness seep over her as her body, completely relaxed now, made its own demand for slumber. "Good night."

"Night, my love."

Sickbay was quiet when Seven arrived, having checked with the ship's computer as to Lt. Hansen's location after beaming over. As expected, the woman with the short blonde hair was sitting on the stool next to Captain Johnson's biobed, taking advantage of the lack of other patients to hold the smaller hand within her own.

"Seven," Hansen acknowledged as the Borg approached.

"Annika Hansen," she returned, no matter how odd it sounded on her lips. "Has there been any improvement?"

"Some," the physicist said, reaching over to run her knuckles over her lover's cheek. "Her vital signs are improving and other than being weak and sore for a few days, Kathryn should be fine."

"That is good news," Seven said.

"Were you looking for me?"

"Indeed. I have made a decision regarding your offer for me to meet your parents." Seven paused, taking a deep breath as she once again questioned if she had made the right choice. She had wanted to speak with Sek about it, but the fledgling counselor was busy helping the inexperienced and shell shocked crew of Johnson's Voyager, since they did not have a counselor of their own. Seven knew, if she told Sek it was of extreme urgency, that the holographic Ocampa would make time for her, but she decided her dilemma was not of the same priority as helping a crew which might not get a chance to see a counselor again for some time. Instead, Seven had sought out the advice of B'Elanna, her best friend and, combined with her own feelings and Kathryn's words, she made her decision. "I wish to meet them. Do they wish to meet me as well?"

Hansen leaned against the stool. "I don't know," she said, seeming somewhat surprised. Perhaps she had not anticipated receiving a response so quickly. "I haven't talked to them."

"They must not be deceived into meeting with me," Seven said. "I will not ...surprise them. You must tell them about my assimilation and find out if they wish to meet me." She paused, catching Annika's eyes in a stern gaze. "You must also inform them that I am married to Captain Janeway."

"Of course," Annika responded without a flicker and Seven knew that she had been right about her 'hunch'.

Seven was torn between being pleased that her intuition about the situation had been accurate, and outraged that her counterpart would attempt to manipulate her in this manner, but she did not say anything. For one thing, she did not think that, in the end, Annika's own intent was particularly relevant to Seven's meeting the Hansens, and for another, the Borg had her own reasons for wanting to speak with them. If, as a side effect, she somehow smoothed the way for a new line of communication to be opened between her counterpart and her parents, well then, was that any less than what she should be doing anyway?

She glanced over at Johnson, feeling a twinge at seeing that familiar face so vulnerable and battered, having to restrain herself from reaching out and brushing back a lock of auburn which had fallen over the proud brow. Even as she thought about it however, Annika reached out and tenderly lifted the strand back into place, then she looked at Seven and for a moment, something profound and deeply moving passed between them, an instant of total and complete understanding.

"She does love you," Seven said quietly. "That love is worth fighting for. It is irrelevant what others think, it is even irrelevant what emotions such as pride and ego demand of you. She needs you in a way that perhaps she may never really comprehend herself, but that you must always hold in your heart. Without you, she will ultimately lose herself and in doing so, will bring about your undoing as well. Only by bridging this gap between you, will you both find true happiness."

Annika swallowed visibly, her eyes shining as moisture rose in them. "I know," she said huskily. "Somehow, no matter what else happens, that knowledge remains with me."

Seven nodded. "I will help you in whatever way I can," she said. "I swear that to you." She smiled faintly and reached out, putting her hand on Annika's shoulder. If it felt odd to be literally, touching herself, it was a sensation that Seven steadfastly ignored. Annika reached up and put her hand over the one on her shoulder, squeezing it lightly, with a touch of affection.

"Thank you," she said softly. "For everything. Every time I see Kathryn injured, I feel so alone and helpless. You and Janeway being here has really helped make it all ... bearable."

Seven dipped her head and carefully released her. Then she inhaled slowly and broke contact with those pale eyes.

"I am assisting Lt. Torres with repairs in this Voyager's engineering section. If you require my presence today, that is where you can find me."

"I'll set up the meeting as soon as possible," Annika promised.

With one final look at her and Kathryn's counterpart, Seven exited sickbay, unaware that she was being observed with keen interest by the chief medical officer in her office, the elder woman looking quite thoughtful as the Borg left. Dr. Annika Hansen paused outside the guest quarters housing her parents, her insides churning unpleasantly. Since it was midway through the alpha shift, the corridor was empty, giving her a moment to prepare. This was not something she was particularly looking forward to, but once Seven had requested the meeting, it was up to the science officer to arrange it as quickly as possible. Indeed, who knew how long they would remain in this alternate universe, and how much convincing it might require to get her parents to agree to meet with the Borg? Yet, a part of Annika was also very leery about the situation and somewhat ashamed that she had brought the whole thing up. It had seemed like a good idea when she first proposed it, but she had since reconsidered and now was left wondering what she had really been after. Initially, she had merely wanted to shove Seven in her parents' faces, introducing them to a version of herself which their even more self-absorbed counterparts had been responsible for having assimilated, intending that it would somehow shake them out of their smug complacency. She hoped that showing them a Borgified Annika would make them realize that their view of the universe didn't always conform to what actually was.

Her parents' continued distaste for Starfleet was shortsighted and selfish, particularly after all the death Annika had seen of courageous officers fighting to protect civilians just like the Hansens. Yet, even now, with the war on Earth's doorstep, they remained insufferably superior, determined to look at Starfleet as nothing more than semi-literate thugs in uniform. How anyone growing up in the Federation could have arrived at such a conclusion baffled her, even though she had shared it to a limited extent, until she worked with Starfleet personnel during her transwarp project ... until she met Kathryn. She had hoped that Seven could get through their shell of antipathy where she couldn't, and felt guilty for placing that burden on her other self.

There was also the fact that a meeting with the Hansens might not be good for Seven at all. Annika had slowly realized that this had the potential to hurt Seven emotionally, and she wondered if she should have shared her reservations with the Borg. After all, it was easy enough for her parents to hurt her, to make her feel as if she had made all the wrong decisions since being on her own, but what if they did that to Seven? Would the Borg, who was not used to deflecting the painful jibes, be able to handle it? For a moment she contemplated turning around, but Seven had requested the meeting and now, Annika was forced to venture down here to deck nine and face her parents in their quarters ... something that she could have easily done without, particularly with things as unsettled as they were.

She took a deep breath and pressed the admittance chime to the door. There was a pause, then the door hissed open and Dr. Erin Hansen stood in the entrance. A slender woman, with golden brown hair laced with grey, fine lines radiating from each corner of hazel eyes, the scientist remained a strikingly attractive female. Annika was aware that a certain percentage of her good looks came from her mother and supposed she should be grateful for that genetic inheritance.

Erin's face tightened as she saw who it was and Annika wondered for a moment if she was actually going to be allowed in.

"Lieutenant," Erin said, her voice edged with more than a little scorn.

"Dr. Hansen," Annika replied, refusing to show how that stung, maintaining a formal and professional expression.

"Ladies," a deeper voice echoed from within. "We promised we wouldn't do this, remember?"

Annika eyed her mother expectantly and Erin stepped aside, granting her entrance. If there was a trace of regret in the woman's eyes, Annika certainly wasn't ready to acknowledge it yet.

"I'm sorry, Dad," she apologized as she entered, nodding briefly at the man sitting on the couch with padds scattered around him. She had acquired her cluttered approach to research from him. "I just came down to see how you are and catch you up on what's going on with the ship," she said, hoping her casual tone would cut through the tension choking the room.

"Why?" Erin asked in an accusing tone. "You've never come to our quarters before. What's Starfleet up to this time?"

"Will you give me a chance to explain before you start another 'Starfleet Is The Enemy' speech?" Annika snapped, her defenses kicking in automatically.

"Ladies!" Magnus said more firmly than when they had started at the door. He looked at his wife. "Whatever it is, is must be very important for her to come down here." The lanky male with curly, blond hair then regarded his daughter affectionately. "We've been hearing some crazy things," he allowed, setting aside his padd for the moment. "Though maybe not so crazy when you can look out the viewport and see another Voyager hanging there."

"The starfield tells us we're in the Delta Quadrant," Erin noted, sitting down next to her husband and maintaining a stern expression on her features though her tone was slightly less hostile. "What's happened?"

Stifling a sigh, Annika brought them up to date, sketchily describing the events that led them to this point, including some comments on the two previous encounters with the 'other' Voyager.

"So you're saying that in this reality, the other Voyager has never returned to the Alpha Quadrant," Magnus said.

"Exactly," Annika said. She paused. "You should also know, in addition to Captain Johnson and Commander Tuvok, I have my own counterpart here."

Erin blinked and looked even more disapproving, if that were at all possible. "You mean she joined Starfleet even earlier?"

"No," Annika replied, keeping her tone perfectly level. "Apparently the Hansens in this reality were even..." She paused, about to say 'more self-absorbed' and altered it to; "... less prudent than you were when they were studying the Borg."

"What do you mean?" her father asked.

"They didn't take the hint when the Collective first acknowledged their presence. They pushed their luck and ended up being assimilated ... as did their six year old daughter."

If Annika was sometimes frustrated and annoyed by her parents attitudes, she still had to allow for the fact that they were very intelligent and possessed a certain amount of compassion and empathy as well. They recognized right away what that meant, and Erin's face in particular, was stricken by the realization.

"The Voyager in this reality severed my counterpart a couple of years ago, rescuing her from the Collective," Annika continued. "She spent eighteen years as a drone so we don't have as much in common as you might think the same two people would. However," she added, hesitating as she regarded the couple, "Seven of Nine has indicated an interest in meeting you, if you're agreeable."

"Seven of Nine?" her mother echoed.

"That was her designation by the Borg. She doesn't ... remember her own parents very well. I suppose in this reality, you're still drones." She supposed she hadn't really needed to add that last bit, but it was worth it to see her mother flinch a bit. "She prefers to be called Seven."

"Of course," Magnus said, spreading his hands. "We'd be glad to meet her."

"I'm sure she could tell us a lot about the Borg," Erin added. "Things that we never had the opportunity to find out."

Anger flared, though Annika restricted it to her eyes. "She's still a Human being," she said, her voice somewhat harsh. "Nor was she on some sort of research project when she lost most of her life to them."

"We didn't mean anything like that," Magnus rebuked her mildly. "But I'm sure the fact that we studied the Borg so closely will enable us to find a sort of common ground with her."

Annika's mother rose from the couch and moved several steps away, her back to the rest of her family. "Please tell her that we look forward to meeting her," Erin said after a moment, her features still troubled when she turned back to them.

Annika inhaled slowly. "I will," she said. "In the meantime, please know that as soon as we've repaired the ship, we'll be returning to our own reality where hopefully, the Dominion forces will have moved on to somewhere else."

"We also heard the captain was injured," Magnus said. "How is she?"

"She's recovering," Annika said shortly, not wanting to get into that topic at all.

"Maybe if she hadn't been so determined to engage in combat, we wouldn't be in this mess," Erin noted. She fixed a look of pleading on her daughter. "Annika, I know you've come to admire the woman immensely, ever since you worked with her on the transwarp project. I realize that you even care about her personally, but surely you can see how her type of militaristic view is exactly the thing that is prolonging this war."

Fury lanced white-hot along the young woman's nerve endings and it took every ounce of will not to say something she would regret. Clamping down on her emotion with a steel grip, she shot a laser glance to her parents.

"I would advise you not to say anything to that effect to Seven of Nine," she said coldly, taking advantage of the opening. "In this reality, she and the captain are married."

The couple blinked, obviously taken aback by this information as well as the obvious anger in their daughter's voice. Annika struggled to regain her composure.

"Married? To the captain?" Erin paused, apparently trying to chose her words carefully. "So she's ... normal? She's not part of the Borg anymore?"

"She'll always be part of the Borg," Annika said. "She still has implants and nanoprobes."

"Oh."

Annika looked at her mother thoughtfully, having never seen that particular expression on her face before. "Um ... for the most part she does look like me, not a drone." That seemed to ease the pained expression on Erin's face slightly. "There is one more thing," the science officer added, feeling the need to protect Seven as best she could considering it was her own selfish whims that had caused this situation in the first place. "When you talk to her, remember that she lost her own parents when she was six. I would ... appreciate it if you would..." She wanted to say 'treat her better than you do you own daughter' but knew that would only be firing photon torpedoes into the highly charged situation. "...be gentle with her," she finished. "I'll let Seven know you're agreeable to meet with her."

Magnus nodded and stood up to escort his daughter to the door. "I don't suppose you'll have a chance to join us for dinner soon," he asked somewhat wistfully. "We've finally managed to end up in the same place and we see even less of you than we did when you were working on Mars."

Annika's first impulse was to refuse, but she swallowed it and nodded. "I'm pretty busy, Dad," she said. "But ... I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you," he said, his blue eyes sincere. "I really would like to see more of my daughter than just a passing figure in the corridor and notes on a padd now and again."

She offered him a final nod and left the guest quarters, her thoughts leaving her troubled and uncertain as she made her way back to the bridge.

Completely unaware that a woman was now weeping into her husband's shoulder in the cabin she had just left on deck nine, section four.

Sickbay was quiet, no other patients currently being held there, but the ship's commander, who was fast asleep in the biobed. Janeway passed the time by studying her counterpart, noting the features from which, not even unconsciousness, could fully remove the lines of stress. What-ifs and could-have-beens played around in Janeway's mind for the better part of an hour before the breathing changed and her counterpart's eyes fluttered open. There was a second or two of confusion before the gray eyes focused.

"I don't suppose this is simply a social call," Captain Johnson said dryly, her voice raspy from lack of use.

"I'm afraid not," Janeway said, straightening up and folding her hands neatly on her lap. "You pushed the Janeway luck too far this time."

"I don't like that tone." She eyed her genetic twin warily. "How bad?"

"You've been relieved of duty," Janeway said, not attempting to soften the stark reality. "Tuvok is acting captain until further notice."

"God." Johnson closed her eyes. "Dare I ask how you managed to get here?"

"It actually wasn't a matter of us getting to you so much as it was you coming to us. Apparently you still haven't learned to pick on someone your own size and got caught between a rock and a hard place."

"The Dominion," Kathryn remembered. "We were hit..."

"And Lt. Hansen found herself in charge of Voyager," Janeway finished, knowing the other facts were irrelevant at this point. "Might I suggest having her study some Starfleet command courses? I'm pretty sure escaping to another universe every time one is in trouble is not referred to anywhere in the captain's handbook I got."

"At least she had sense to get us somewhere safe." Johnson said, anger sparking as she defended her lover. Janeway carefully hid her smile.

"Still, she revealed something to the Dominion that perhaps they didn't need to know. You did luck out, however," the Delta Quadrant captain said. "Only three species have tried to destroy us this week, so we had the time to give you a helping hand."

"You must have been bored silly," Johnson shot back, resting her hand on her belly. "How's my ship?"

Janeway quirked an eyebrow, knowing that would have been one of her first questions as well, but only after asking about Seven. The fact that Johnson had yet to inquire about her lover's condition was troubling to the extreme. "We don't know yet," she said. "Our engineering team is working with Commander Scott to assess the damage." Her face grew softer, compassion in her eyes as she invited her other to confide in her. "Do you want to tell me what's going on with you?"

"Not yet. I'm too tired and..." Johnson shifted slightly, groaning at the pain. "...my back is killing me."

"What do you want me to tell Annika? Who, by the way, only suffered minor injuries during the attack," Janeway added with enough edge to penetrate the command mask, invoking shame to color the other woman's expression.

The gray eyes turned away. "I don't know," Johnson whispered.

"Well, telling her you love her is a good start, don't you think?" Janeway prodded, becoming aggravated at her counterpart. "When was the last time you did that?"

"I don't think we need to talk about this," Johnson said, her voice cooling.

"Oh, I think we do," Janeway said in an equally cool tone, crossing her arms over her chest. "Because it's obvious that this has been going on too long and frankly, I think I'm the only one you will talk to about this. So we might as well get it out of the way as soon as possible."

"Has it occurred to you that it's absolutely none of your business," Johnson sniped.

Janeway sighed. "From the first second it came up," she admitted. "But since that's never stopped me ... or you ... before, I guess I'm not going to let it stop me now." She reached out and put her hand on the woman's shoulder, offering her comfort and understanding through that simple, physical touch. "Look, I know this is tearing you up inside. More importantly, Pulaski knows it too and she's not about to budge on giving back your command unless you do something positive to solve it. It looks like I'm your only option here."

Johnson continued to look stubborn for a few moments more as Janeway remained silent, patiently waiting for her to accept what was impossible to avoid.

"Fine," the battered captain said finally, obviously not pleased, but starting to appreciate the position she had managed to get herself into. "What was the question again?"

"When was the last time you told Annika that you loved her?"

"Longer than I'd care to admit." Johnson closed her eyes again, honest pain ghosting across her features. "I've been so rotten to her."

"You've been taking her for granted," Janeway agreed, tugging the stool closer and settling onto it. "I used to do that with Seven when we first became lovers. How many times have you missed dinner?"

"Too many," Johnson admitted. "We've been in battle after battle, running off to lick our wounds only to have to go back and do it all over again."

"And the little things like dinner with the woman you love fall to the wayside, right?" Janeway let out a deep breath, wondering if she should point out that some of those constant battles were at Johnson's choice. "I did the same thing for a while, you know. I took Annika's love for granted and never put the effort into the relationship that it deserved. I neglected her needs and wants and never gave her the attention she had a right to expect." She paused, her own remembered pain tightening her throat. "Then that Bajoran orb took her away from me, and a Borg queen and losing my memories..." She took a breath. "Things can change so quickly, and leave you with nothing. It's made me realize what's really important and it's not getting departmental reports done on time."

"My Annika isn't the same as your Seven," Johnson pointed out, becoming defensive once more. "Yours understands what it takes to command. Annika hasn't even tried since we left the Mars project. Now, she just storms out and gives me the cold shoulder, and frankly, our situation is not the same at all. We're at war, dammit. Other things have to come second."

"No, that's too easy, using the war as an excuse," Janeway said coldly, not allowing her counterpart any slack. She didn't dare. "If it wasn't the war, it would be the mission, if it wasn't the mission, it would be duty. If it wasn't duty, it would be something else. Don't forget, I've done the same thing too many times ... before I finally got it through my thick skull that Seven is far more important than any of those things." She was about to add that how their father approached his life was not how they had to live, then decided that was a bit too much too soon. After all, it had taken her a long time to make the connection between trying to please her father and how her actions were actually self-defeating in her own life. Part of that lesson included losing her memories and starting all over again, which Johnson simply did not have the experience to comprehend. So Janeway softened her tone and rested her hand compassionately on her counterpart's shoulder again. "I do know that if Annika and Seven are anything alike, they are remarkably forgiving. Chances are that if you're not being forgiven now, it's because you're not giving Annika the opportunity to try. Groveling helps. Remember?"

"I don't think there's enough ice cream in the world to fix this," Johnson said, her sad eyes gray. "We don't talk, we don't make love, we just keep spending our time going through the motions until we can get back to Earth." She blinked back a tear. "I've lost her."

"Hey," Janeway said softly, squeezing the shoulder beneath her hand. "You haven't lost her. She's been worried out of her mind about you."

Kathryn blinked rapidly, reining in her emotions. "I've made quite a mess out of things, haven't I?"

"In typical Janeway fashion," the Delta Quadrant captain agreed before lightening her tone. "Speaking of which, you're divorced now, right? Why the name?"

Johnson gave a small smile. "You know Starfleet bureaucracy. When Mark and I got married it took them six months to get my name switched in the records from Janeway to Johnson. Apparently it takes twice as long to get it back to Janeway. Since all the official channels still have it as Johnson, I've just left it. It's easier on the crew as well. Most of them are just kids and it would confuse them otherwise ... most of them have only known me as 'Captain Johnson'."

"Good old Starfleet," Janeway noted dryly. "We're starting to get messages from them over the MIDAS system. I can't believe all the new protocols and regulations. I've found twenty-five that have been changed since the first transmission." She noted the heavy lidded gaze and decided against telling her counterpart than in their universe, the war was over and had been won decisively by the Federation. Another difference that could hold great significance. "Right now you need to get some rest. A word of advice? Don't think of arguing with the good doctor. I'm surprised she hasn't had you restrained to the biobed yet."

"Another fan?"

"She hasn't forgotten who authored the everlasting limerick There Once Was An Instructor Named Pulaski..."

As bad as Johnson was feeling, she couldn't resist giving a weak conspiratorial smile. "It certainly was catchy."

"That it was," Janeway agreed. "Come on now, get some sleep. Seven and I will take care of Annika for you. I'm sure she'll be in later to see you. One more word of advice?"

"As if I could stop you," Johnson said dryly.

"When Annika yells at you about not being careful, remember that she's been scared out of her wits over this," Janeway said, knowing her own previous tendency to react to Seven's emotion instead of searching deeper to find the true meaning behind it. "She doesn't need reassurance that you're all right now and duty requires danger and the dozen other defenses we're both so good at." She lowered her tone. "What she needs is for you to hold her and tell her that you love her and didn't mean to scare her."

"I'm not going to apologize for doing my job. I'm the captain, remember?" Johnson said.

"I never said you had to. Just apologize for scaring her. Trust me."

"Trust you?" Johnson said in a playful scoff. "I know you. You're too devious."

"Apologize and I'll sneak you a cup of Seven's coffee," Janeway said, glancing over to make sure the doctor was not within earshot.

The other woman's eyes followed as well. "How about two cups?"

Janeway's eyebrow raised as she considered it. "That depends on how well you apologize to her. I'll find out, you know."

"I know. Annika isn't one to socialize and make lots of close friends, but she and Seven seem to get along as well as you and I do. I'm sure what Seven hears..."

"I hear," Janeway finished for her. "Especially when it comes to you two. As my beloved wife says, in an odd sort of way, you two are family to us." She swallowed, pausing as an unexpected surge of emotion lowered her tone. "We can never thank Annika enough for donating her genetic material to us. It was a wonderful surprise and a gift that we can never repay."

Johnson blinked, trying to catch up to the conversation. "I admit, I was pretty surprised when she requested deck five and sickbay instead of the transporter room," she said slowly. "I knew from the expression on both of your faces at dinner that something was up, but she was the one that insisted on asking your doctor."

"I'm grateful she did ... and not just for how it made Annika feel."

Johnson was quiet for a moment. "I can't imagine myself being a mother."

"Neither could I," Janeway admitted. "Now I can't imagine it not being part of Seven's and my future together. Hey, I told you I was leaving five minutes ago. We keep this up and we'll be chatting all night."

"Oh, no you won't," Dr. Pulaski said as she approached. "I think you two magpies have done enough chatting for today. Kathryn," she said to her captain. "You're going to rest now. I'll let Lt. Hansen know when you're awake."

"What's wrong, Lanna?" Lt. Ro Laren asked, sitting back and looking at her Klingon lover with concern as the lights came up to one quarter. Normally, moving their affection to the bed from the sofa was prelude to an even greater form of shared intimacy, but tonight, B'Elanna Torres seemed preoccupied, far from being her enthusiastic self and finally, the Bajoran had decided to find out what was troubling her.

"I'm sorry," B'Elanna said. "I'm just worried about Seven."

"Why? It's not her Janeway that's recovering in that Sickbay."

"It's more than that. I remember what she was like after the Mimic was here." B'Elanna sat up and hugged her knees to her chest. "It was a tough time for her."

Ro reached out and cupped her lover's cheek. "It was a tough time for all of us," she reminded gently. "But we made it through. And I read the logs about the Mimic. What does that have to do with Voyager II?" she asked.

"You know Seven's counterpart, Dr. Hansen is there, right?"

"Yes."

"Well so are Dr. Hansen's parents ... both of them."

"Oh." Laren was silent for a minute as the implication sank in. Over away missions and lunches, Ro had come to know her lover's best friend and considered Seven to be a friend of hers as well. "That is rough."

"Seven asked me what I thought about her meeting with them," the Klingon continued, her eyes dark and thoughtful.

"What did you tell her?"

B'Elanna shook her head slightly. "All I could say was that it was better to try something and not have it work out, than to not try at all," she said, glancing at the Bajoran from beneath her lashes. "At least that way, she wouldn't go through life wondering what might have been."

"But this might hurt her as badly as the Mimic did," Ro offered gently. "That's what you're thinking, right?"

"Yeah," the engineer replied. "But at the same time, she has to find out. You know?"

"I do," Ro agreed.

She leaned back against the pillows and rested her hand casually on the Klingon's leg, not enticingly, but rather just to be in physical contact with her and let her know that she cared as they talked. Their communication was not anywhere near as complete and open as the captain and Seven's ability to share their feelings with each other, but both B'Elanna and Ro had been trying hard recently and things were steadily improving between them. It had been a revelation to both of them how taking the time to talk had actually improved their physical and emotional closeness.

"You told her what was in your heart, Lanna," she added. "You can never go wrong with that."

B'Elanna looked vaguely relieved.  "I hope so," she said, but it was obvious that the Bajoran's words had helped.

Pleased, Ro leaned her head back against the wall and idly contemplated the fuzzy blue creature draped over the shelf of a nearby bookcase. She hoped it would not get the urge to launch itself at the couple as it had in previous encounters, but did not have any illusions about its less than benevolent nature. The B'Rethna's claws were much sharper and longer than Terran domesticated cats and Libby was apt to show that particular feature off on a regular basis; B'Elanna's couch, chairs and clothes, mute testament to that. More than once, Laren had to kick in an extra replicator strip to repair her uniform after Libby had gotten hold of it, and she didn't even want to think about the 'present' the skinny blue furball had left in her boots one time, most likely in retaliation for the Bajoran kicking the animal out of the bed.

"You know she's thinking of jumping," she said, motioning with her chin at the B'Rethna.

"She wouldn't dare," B'Elanna said in a warning tone, directing her dark eyes at her pet. "Not after the last time."

Ro, who rarely smiled, let alone laughed, favored her lover with both. "Well, what can you expect when you wake up the entire section by threatening to kill someone?"

"Before or after James' court martial?" the Klingon countered. "Before, they only called security the night I threw half the living room at Tom. Any other time they just figured I was spouting off like usual."

"When you were yelling at the top of your lungs about taking your bat'telh to it and slamming into every piece of furniture in the place, what did you expect? They probably thought you were trying to kill me. They had no idea just how close you were when she jumped on you and forestalled the whole thing. Her sadistic sense of timing has become even more refined over the course of our being together."

B'Elanna eyed her blue furred pet warily. "I think she's mad because I forgot to refill her food dispenser yesterday. She looks like she's up to something."

The B'Rethna in question leveled her big dark eyes at the pair in the bed for several seconds before apparently losing interest and licking her paws. The women maintained their scrutiny for a few moments, not fooled by this in the slightest, then finally decided that for now, the creature was going to remain right where it was.

"So, are you on this other Voyager?" Ro asked, glancing at her lover. "You could always pull what Janeway's counterpart did and pass Libby off before the rift closes."

B'Elanna shook her head. "Nope, apparently in that reality, from what I can dig out from the few that served Johnson for awhile, B'Elanna Torres married Tom Paris and went off to serve on a Galaxy-class vessel," she said. "The USS Liberty."

Ro blinked, a little rocked at that. "I see," she said, the humorous mood of seconds ago forgotten.

B'Elanna chuckled a little and poked her in the ribs. "Don't take it too seriously," she said. "I suspect she'll come to her senses sooner or later."

"One can only hope," Ro said dryly. "I wonder where my counterpart is?"

"Well, as a matter of fact," B'Elanna said casually as she studied her nails, "over on Voyager II."

Startled, Ro blinked and stared at the Klingon in astonishment. "You're kidding?" she said.

"Nope," B'Elanna said, leaning back against the pillows. "Scotty told me all about her after I caught a glimpse of you ... er, her ... this afternoon." She grinned. "He wanted to know if you were as much trouble as his was. I told him 'yes', of course." She sobered slightly. "That was before I knew what he meant by 'trouble'. Your counterpart is not a nice person at all, I guess. She's only out of prison because their Starfleet is hurting for experienced officers so badly. Even with the parole, however, she still wears a security device around her ankle."

"Prophets," Ro swore. "That's not good on any ship. I was never that bad."

"Well, apparently your counterpart is. She does her bridge duty and that's it, according to Scotty. The rest of the time she's in her quarters. She doesn't even get holodeck privileges anymore because she took the safeties off during a battle between her and a half dozen Cardassians. She's been busted back to ensign too."

"She's burning out. What does she want to do? End up back on Jaros II?"

"I don't know," B'Elanna said, moving closer and tucking her head on Laren's chest. "However, I do know that I love you and I'm damned glad I ended up with you instead of her."

"Me, too," Ro said, but she was not really concentrating on her companion, not even when B'Elanna began to nibble her way over her shoulders and chest. She tried to imagine her other self, someone who apparently had not joined Chakotay's Maquis cell and ended up in the Delta Quadrant with the rest of Voyager's crew. A self who had not had the logical ... and healing ... mentorship of Tuvok for six years, then the friendship offered by others. Of someone who had not received a sort of absolution from a captain that Ro had come to admire greatly.

"Hey, where'd you go?," B'Elanna muttered, hugging the Bajoran as she repositioned herself on top of the slender woman, seeking out her lips.

Ro returned the kiss, refocusing her attention where it should be. "Just thinking about my counterpart," she admitted.

"I'm sorry I brought her up," the Klingon noted. She kissed her again. "What about her?"

Ro exhaled. "Maybe if I talked to her..." she started, then stopped, thinking about it further. B'Elanna waited patiently, watching her closely. "I guess I'd probably only make things worse for her," the Bajoran concluded sadly. "How can telling her how good my life is, make hers any better?"

B'Elanna sighed. "I don't know," she said. "Certainly, Scotty didn't seem to think she had much promise."

Ro eyed her. "Oh, he didn't," she said, lightening her tone. "Since when does what 'Scotty thinks' matter so much?"

B'Elanna opened her mouth to protest, then seemed to realize the Bajoran was tweaking her a little and grumbled faintly. The Klingon's hero worship had not gone unnoticed by anyone on the ship, and more than one person had taken the opportunity to nudge her a little about it, particularly Chakotay. She and the first officer had been getting along much better lately, the two having returned to their previous friendship which had been temporarily interrupted by an ill-conceived, if brief, romance. It wasn't surprising that her lover had heard about it as well.

"You don't have to worry," B'Elanna said sheepishly. "We just talk about engineering stuff, you know." She regarded her companion wistfully. "Wasn't there anyone you ever looked up to?"

Ro considered it carefully. "I guess, maybe a few people," she allowed, but she didn't go into specifics and B'Elanna seemed to understand from the tone that it wasn't a topic she should press at this particular moment. The Bajoran shook her head, as if to shake off memories she didn't want to think about at the moment. "How long before the repairs are finished?"

"It's going to take a few more days," B'Elanna allowed. "They really got banged up by those fighters. It's a good thing we were here."

"I don't think it was an accident," Ro remarked. "From what I understand, the altered transwarp stream keys on our warp signature, matching it to open up the rift wherever we are. Otherwise, they'd just pop out into the Alpha Quadrant of this reality. They must have decided they'd rather be out here in the Delta Quadrant than there in the Federation."

"Desperate times call for desperate measures, I guess," B'Elanna agreed. She nuzzled the Bajoran. "So, you wanna talk some more?"

Ro smiled. "You have something else in mind?"

"Several things," B'Elanna told her.

"Show me."

"With pleasure," the Klingon murmured, rolling herself on top of Laren and using her mouth to claim those incredibly soft Bajoran lips. Ro's answering moan of approval and the strong legs that wrapped themselves around the engineer's hips pushed B'Elanna's smoldering passion up another notch. "Kahless, but I love you." she said as her lips began to work their way down Laren's neck. "I love that you took a second chance on me." She moved down further, feeling Ro's dark curls pressing against her belly while her lips gently grazed the hardening flesh atop her lover's breasts. "I love that you hung in there."

"Oh Prophets," Ro gasped when B'Elanna's lips closed around her nipple, the firm tongue rasping over her sensitive flesh.

"I love the way you sound," the Klingon continued, kissing her way down the flat muscled stomach. "I love the way you taste, the way you feel..." Her tongue passed over one of the very few ticklish spots her lover insisted did not exist and B'Elanna had to smile at the quick jerk and the strangled sound that came from Ro's mouth. "I love that too," she added with an affectionate smile, giving the offended area a quick kiss before settling herself between Laren's legs.

"You're being awfully verbal about your feelings tonight," Ro observed as her fingertips gently brushed over the proud ridges on B'Elanna's forehead.

"Just making sure you know how I feel," the engineer said, nuzzling her lips against the dark triangle of hair. "Mmm, I love this too." Feeling extra adoring tonight, she reversed her route with the same languid pace to work her way back up the Bajoran's body where she resumed her attention on the delicate ridges radiating from Ro's nipples.

Libby, who had been watching all this intently from her perch on the top of the bookcase, decided it was time for her to get her revenge for being stepped on in the middle of the night one too many times. With a graceful leap, the B'Rethna sailed through the air, claws on all four feet fully extended. It was a perfect landing, the blue animal's back claws catching B'Elanna's bare back while her front claws found a slightly more sensitive place on Laren.

"What in Kahless? Libby!" B'Elanna yelped and tried to roll off her lover, which was a big mistake. With half of Libby's claws in her back and the other half in Laren's front, trying to move only resulted in both of their skins being shredded by the sharp B'Rethna claws as Libby took off for cover. The Klingon felt the thin rivulets of blood trickling down her back as she watched matching wounds form in the most painful of places on her lover's chest.

"Prophets!" Laren cursed as she sat up and pressed the sheet to her skin to ebb the bleeding. Part of loving someone was loving their pet but at the moment the Bajoran was seriously considering which plasma vent to eject the blue furred animal out of as B'Elanna found her comm badge and made a call to sickbay. It was not the first time Libby had managed to catch both of them with her flying attacks. It was not even the first time they had to call Sek in the middle of the night to come patch them up with a dermal regenerator, the Doctor having been banned from B'Elanna's quarters after the first time he had come to the rescue and made one of his usual commentaries. Since that time, Sek had been the one to take care of them, and even as Ro was pressing the blue sheet against B'Elanna's back, she heard the faint whine of the hologram's matrix materializing across the room.

"Libby! If I get my hands on you, I'm gonna feed you to Jake!" the Klingon growled, alerting the hologram as to what had called her out this night.

"Looks like a direct hit," Sek said as she walked across the room and saw the pale, pink blood soaking through the sheet. She knew better than to comment on what the two women were so obviously doing before Libby decided to interrupt. "Just lie still, B'Elanna."

"Check Laren," Torres said. "Libby got her worse than she did me."

"Lie still," Ro said firmly, pressing her free hand down on an undamaged part of her lover's back. "You know the back claws are longer."

It took several minutes for Sek to heal up the slices on B'Elanna's back and slightly longer to fix Laren, mostly because the holographic medical assistant had to go slowly and carefully over the ridges of sensitive flesh that were damaged, much to Ro's embarrassment. The mood obviously lost, B'Elanna threw on fresh clothes and retrieved Laren's robe from where it had been haphazardly tossed on the lounger that morning.

"Do you want me to leave you a dermal regenerator?" Sek asked as she made the last pass over Ro's breast and moved away.

"No. I just have to figure out what I'm going to do with the carcass," B'Elanna growled, glaring at the underside of the bed where she knew the cantankerous B'Rethna was hiding.

Both Sek and Ro looked appropriately concerned.

Dressed in lounging robes and little else, Seven and the captain snuggled on the couch after lingering over a long dinner, talking about inconsequential things and simply enjoying each other's company. The past few days had seemed fraught with emotional land mines as they helped repair the other Voyager, and it was with relief that they were able to return to their quarters and each other at the end of their duty shifts to compare notes before tackling it all over again the next. In fact, they had made it a point to relax once they logged out, changing from their uniforms as quickly as possible and putting on clothes that were as out of keeping with their roles on the ship as possible. It occurred to the Borg that being in contact with their counterparts made what should be a normally routine rescue mission far more draining on them than would otherwise be the case. She wondered what Sek would say about it, but unfortunately, she hadn't had a chance to speak with the ship's counselor much, lately.

Indeed, with the time Sek was spending with various crewmembers of Voyager II fresh off a war zone, which their Federation had become, dealing with extreme cases of post-combat fatigue, it was unlikely the Ocampa would have any time for her regular patients as long as the two ships occupied the same reality. Pulaski had been quick to take advantage of having a counselor around, sending out a strong suggestion to a lot of her crew to avail themselves of the opportunity. Janeway's crew, understanding the situation, readily gave up their normal appointment times so their counselor could help their sister ship's crew. Privately Seven wished Sek could find the time to sit down with the other couple and help them, but unless that happened, it was up to her and Kathryn to make things right.

"Dr. Hansen says that she and Captain Johnson have not made love for quite some time," Seven said as she cradled the captain in her arms, nuzzling the auburn hair gently.

"Mmm, Johnson told me the same thing," Janeway noted, resting her head against her partner's shoulder, her back supported by the strong, yet yielding cushion of the young woman's chest and stomach. Their legs entangled comfortably on the sofa and Jake made himself a fuzzy, rust ball at the other end, draped over their bared feet. "But that's to be expected darling. Relations in the bedroom usually seem to go wrong in these cases long before other things do."

"Yes," Seven agreed, brushing her lips tenderly over the captain's temple. "When we are unhappy for whatever reason, we stop making love. Sometimes it takes very little."

"Unlike us, they aren't the type to look beyond their words to figure out what's really at the heart of the matter," Janeway added thoughtfully. "Johnson acts much as I did three years ago, only she's been beaten down more by some of her decisions, including the disasterous marriage to Mark and taking that desk job. She loves her Annika, but she either isn't sure how to show it or she's too afraid to show it. I haven't quite figured out which one."

"Annika is confused by that perceived lack of caring from the captain," Seven responded. "She tries so hard to reach out and continues to be rebuffed, but rather than confront Johnson logically as I would you, she hides her hurt and displays anger instead. She tries to match Johnson's temper which is a mistake." She paused and smiled. "No one matches the Janeway temper."

The captain laughed. "They've managed to get themselves in a real tangle, love," she said. "Do you honestly think we can help them straighten it out?"

"I know we will," Seven said confidently. "When did you last have the opportunity to speak to Captain Johnson?"

"This afternoon, in sickbay," Janeway sighed, taking her partner's left hand in her own and stroking the flesh between the metallic mesh tenderly. "Remember, I said you were the second person to want me to speak to Johnson. Dr. Pulaski also thought that I could get through to her where others couldn't." She paused, thinking about it. "I will tell you this, Johnson is deeply depressed and it's more than just the situation with Hansen."

Seven considered that. "Annika told me that Captain Johnson had received a personal communiqué at approximately the same time they were given their current orders." She raised her eyebrow. "Annika did not know what was in it, but Johnson's desire for distance and their problems increased significantly after that."

Janeway looked thoughtful, even as her fingertips continued to idly stroke Seven's palm, sending tingles of pleasure through the Borg despite their conversation. Seven wondered if her partner even realized what she was doing as she mused over the information given her.

"Then I guess my next task will be to find out what was in that communiqué," the captain muttered, almost to herself.

"No," Seven corrected, letting the fingers of her right hand slip into the opening of Janeway's robe at the neck, sliding languidly along smooth warm skin until they were brushing over a small bump which hardened rapidly beneath her touch. She swirled her fingertips slowly around the small circle, feeling it pebble as the captain's body responded to the stimulation. "You may help them with their relationship tomorrow. There is someone else who requires your attention tonight."

"Oh, and do I need to guess who that someone might be?"

"I suspect you do not," Seven told her firmly, making Janeway laugh.

The Borg smiled and kissed along the line of Janeway's neck, continuing to stroke the velvet soft skin of the captain's nipples, moving back and forth between them with lavish pleasure as they closed their eyes and took the time to simply appreciate the caress, both the giving and receiving of it. They both knew where this was headed, aware that there was no need to intensify it immediately. Slow was better, an easing into their passion as they would a leisurely hike in the country, paying as much attention to the journey as any destination they might eventually reach.

Neither of them were pleased when the sound of the door chime interrupted their intentions, and Janeway muttered a low curse as Seven sighed and withdrew her hand.

"Who could that be at this hour?" Janeway asked fretfully, disengaging herself from Seven's warm body and padding across the living area, pulling the neck of her robe together. "Who is it?"

"Lt. Torres."

"Come." At the command, the door opened to reveal a very agitated Klingon holding a specimen cage and a bag.

"Seven," B'Elanna growled, focusing her dark eyes on her best friend, who had reached out and intercepted the couple's dog, doing her best to keep a grip on Jake's collar as the large ball of rust covered fur desperately tried to get at the B'Rethna in the cage. "This is all your fault."

"Explain," the Borg replied. "What is all my fault?"

Still fuming, B'Elanna set the cage on the floor and shoved the bag in Janeway's hands. Crossing her arms, she glared at Seven. "You're the one that wanted to get this thing for Naomi's birthday. You're the one who won it at the booth and it was your dog that caused it to lose its home with Harry. Therefore, you're the one who's going to deal with it." She looked at Janeway and gestured at the bag. "Here's the toys that she ignores, the scratching pad she never uses, the leash which she detests and her bowl, which she is sure to turn upside down if the offering isn't suitable."

"But what of the mental bond you share with her?" Seven offered weakly.

What B'Elanna said then was not fit to be repeated and the Borg blinked with surprise. It had been unusually vulgar, even for the Klingon nor had Seven ever expected it to be uttered in the presence of her partner who raised an eyebrow, a look of almost admiration in her bluish grey eyes at the sheer inventiveness of the curse

B'Elanna glared at them both. "Have a nice night," she spat. With that she turned on her heel and stormed out.

Janeway looked at her partner as Seven looked thoughtfully at the creature scratching at the grill of her cage. The Borg raised an eyebrow.

"Perhaps it is my fault," she allowed. "Certainly B'Elanna was accurate in her assessment of the situation."

"Annika, we are not going to have another pet in these quarters," Janeway said in her best intractable tone, the voice she used when she was absolutely determined not to be thwarted. She dropped the bag on the couch and gestured at Jake who was still wiggling anxiously, though Seven had let him get close to the cage in order to sniff it, undoubtedly in the hopes that it would calm him down. "It's simply impossible."

"What will we do?" Seven asked, agreeing reluctantly with the captain's view.

Janeway looked at her dog, bestowed upon her without warning during her return from an alternate universe years ago. She adored the Irish Setter utterly but did not deny that her life had grown far more complicated with him as a part of it.

"Leave that to me," she said, her gaze becoming lidded.

Seven looked at her and shivered slightly as she recognized the tone and knew it boded ill somehow. She sighed again, then, as Jake seemed to settle down somewhat, now that he and the creature could exchange sniffs, she cautiously released him.

"Jake," she said in a stern tone. "Leave."

He glanced up, his ears flattening, but he offered the creature a final sniff and moved obediently away. Seven exchanged another look at her partner, then picked up the cage, moving it over to a spot behind the kitchenette counter, up out of the dog's reach.

Seven contemplated it briefly, her fingers placed through the grill so that she could scratch its head. "Kathryn," she began hesitantly, "you are not going to ... entertain a terminal solution, are you?"

Janeway's eyes softened and she smiled. "Not at all, darling," she reassured her. "I know someone who will be the perfect match for the little thing." She paused. "But it has to be a surprise, so don't let on to anyone that we have it."

Seven raised an eyebrow. "A present?" she asked, her voice lightening. She liked presents, both the giving and receiving.

"Yes," Janeway said. "A present."

"Still, the B'Rethna can remain in its cage for only a few days," Seven noted. "Any longer and it may cause itself harm."

Janeway nodded. "I know. It should only take a few days," she said. "I know it won't be particularly happy, but it'll be fed and watered and we'll take it out every so often so it can play." Her eyes softened as she regarded her partner for another moment, then her expression grew sensual. "In the meantime, I believe we had our own playtime scheduled before it was so rudely interrupted."

Seven blinked, then as she realized what her partner really meant, she returned the sensual look and drifted over to the captain, resting her hands on the slender waist and looking down into pools of bright sapphire. "I enjoy playing with you," she said.

Janeway tilted her head, a sly smile on her face, her eyes deep and dark. "I know," she said quietly. "That's why it's so much fun." She tugged on the tie which secured the slinky black robe. "Take me to bed, darling," she demanded, her tone dropping to a husky trill. "Play with me the rest of the night."

"Gladly," Seven remarked and without any warning, she picked Janeway up in her arms and carried her off to the bedroom.

Janeway laughed and nuzzled her partner's ear, her arms wrapped joyously around the tall blonde's neck. "Do you know how much I love it when you do that?" she asked.

"Yes," Seven responded with a small smile. She dropped Janeway on the bed and the captain looked up at her affectionately, her robe having fallen open to reveal the length of legs and auburn triangle which the Borg raked with her eyes. "Are you aware of how much I enjoy doing it?"

"I can guess," Janeway replied, leaning back on her elbows. She made an imperious motion with her head, demanding in its bearing. "Come here."

Seven raised an eyebrow, refusing to move. "Why?" she asked dryly. "As B'Elanna might say, 'what is in it for me'?"

"Oh, I think you already know what's in it for you," Janeway said, deliberately bending her knee and parting her legs to reveal even more of what was waiting for her partner. Her eyes smoldered with explicit promise and the Borg felt her heart rate increase significantly.

However, Seven took her time to enjoy the view, pretending to carefully consider the offer as if she had been made many in the past hour and was having difficulty deciding which would be the most satisfying.

"Sufficient," she allowed finally, untying the cord around her waist and slipping out of her robe which she dropped on the lounger behind her.

"I'll give you 'sufficient'," Janeway growled, reaching up to pull Seven down onto the bed, rolling them over until she was on top as any good captain would be. Sitting up so her weight was on her knees, she covered Seven's full breasts as best she could, enjoying the way they spilled out beyond her outstretched fingers, the nipples jabbing into her palms. "Now these wonderful handfuls are what I would call sufficient. More than sufficient in fact."

The Borg smiled, helping the captain shrug out of her robe and tossing it aside before turning her attention to the captain's smaller, but just as firm bosom, stroking the brown circles with tantalizing slowness. "Do you like them, Kathryn?" she asked with studied innocence, knowing full well she did. "Do like touching them?"

"I love touching them," Kathryn replied firmly, smiling as she squeezed the swells tenderly. "In fact, you've given me a whole new appreciation for the female form." Leaning down, she kissed Seven hotly. "Now let's see how I can show my appreciation for your form in particular."

Chuckling, Seven wrapped her arms around the captain and pulled her closer, kissing her deeply. She absorbed herself in the wonderful flavor of her partner while her hands moved restlessly over the smooth skin of her back and sides. It caused Janeway to shiver from the mix of warm flesh and cool mesh, the contrast always serving to please the captain. Seven, in turn, loved the feeling of her partner's flesh pressing so sweetly against her own, the way the firm nipples prodded into her so provocatively, the way the captain's wetness slid slickly over her navel. She wormed her right hand down between them, seeking out that tiny bundle of nerves, and Janeway moaned happily as she settled onto Seven's fingers, moving her hips against the swirling fingertips.

"Do you know what you do to me?" she whispered huskily in her partner's ear. Her eyes were a deep blue, warm and full in the night as she lifted up to look down into her partner's face, pinning her with her gaze.

"I do," Seven responded, intensifying her fondling, moving her fingers rapidly over the hard little ridge. "Which is why I enjoy doing it."

Janeway laughed, deep and wantonly, and Seven watched her intently, loving how the captain's face changed in her passion, how it looked at once predatory and completely helpless at the same time. Janeway's lips were drawn back from her teeth and her smile was sensual as she looked down into Seven's eyes. She spread her legs wider, offering greater access to her partner, rocking forcefully against her.

"Go inside," she urged breathlessly.

Obediently, Seven moved her hand, finding the moist opening and plunging two fingers deep within her partner, awed as always at this intimate touch, these clinging walls which were so accepting at the same time. Janeway gasped and groaned, abruptly throwing her head back as she uttered cries into the night, words of love and passion mixed with others, guttural and provocative. Seven pushed deeper, making Janeway raise up a little so that she could get her other hand betwen them, the metal tips of her fingers vibrating slightly as she sought out the hard little ridge, pressing against it.

"Oh, god, yes," Janeway cried out, her breath a sob as she gripped Seven's shoulders with bruising force. "Oh, darling ... oh, yes ... deeper ... oh..."

Seven thrust her fingers as far as she could into her beloved, immediately rewarded by pulsations which fluttered around her fingers, the captain shuddering helplessly in that oh, so brief period of sheer ecstasy before collapasing weakly on top of the Borg, clinging to her. Seven watched Kathryn swallow against a mouth gone dry from her panting, licking her lips slowly, the very picture of feral satisfaction.

"God, that was wonderful, darling," she said in that wonderful husky voice. "Thank you."

"You are welcome," Seven said politely and Janeway chuckled. Seven carefully withdrew, bringing her arms up to surround Janeway in a loving hug, pulling her closer.

Janeway nuzzled the Borg's throat, nibbling at the soft hollow at the base. "What can I do for you, love?" she murmured. "What do you need?"

"Use your mouth on me, Kathryn," Seven demanded, knowing how much Janeway liked it when she asked for specifics. "Pleasure me with your lips and tongue."

"Gladly, love," Janeway told her, pleased and aroused by the request as she lifted up to regard her partner hungrily. "At once."

But the captain took her time, lingering over every millimeter of skin until Seven was nearly insane from it. Janeway seemed to spend hours on the Borg's breasts alone, licking and nibbling at the tender skin, making the rosy tips so hard they ached from the amount of delight she was providing. When Seven finally felt Janeway trail down over her stomach and through the triangle, she thought she would explode from sheer relief. The captain's warm mouth covered Seven's wetness, rewarding her for her patience, plunging deep within the intimate flesh, making the Borg cry out softly as she held the head to her with one hand, the other groping for the steel bar at the head of the bed. Metal squealed as Janeway laved the young woman with lusty strokes, her lips and tongue touching every part of Seven's most intimate region, including places that she normally did not go. Aggressive in her passion, Janeway provided a loving assault which quickly and completely overwhelmed the Borg, forcing her to surrender completely to Janeway's unquestionable adeptness at pleasuring her.

When the captain finally crawled her way back up the Borg's lanky form, she displayed the familiar, faintly smug expression on her face that always amused Seven when she saw it. It was almost as if Janeway somehow questioned her ability to please her partner at times, and when she proved to herself ... yet again ... that she was more than capable of skillfully fulfilling her partner, it was a source of great satisfaction to her.

Seven kissed her, tasting her own flavor on the captain's lips as Janeway happily settled on top of her.

"Are you tired, Kathryn?" she asked when they parted.

Janeway raised an eyebrow rakishly. "Why? Did you have something else in mind, my insatiable Borg?"

Seven chuckled, holding her partner tightly as she rolled them over, pressing down on her insistently. "Would you object to anything that I might have in mind?" she countered. "Particularly if it involved an accessory?"

Janeway blinked and her smile widened. "Not at all," she said, the invitation accepted readily. "By all means, darling."

"Let us see what this night really holds in store for us."

"That's not exactly what I meant." Janeway adjusted her position on the stool, looking down at her counterpart. Various parts of her were still a little sore from the night before and she wondered if she was going to be able to survive this continued demand from her spouse. It was entirely possible that the indefatigable Kathryn Janeway had finally met her match, and she decided that she'd better get this mission wrapped up before Seven discovered that fact. "I meant, how do you feel? Emotionally."

"I'm fine," Captain Johnson said quickly.

"You know, you might be able to lie to yourself but you can't lie to me. Try again."

"I'm not one to sit and analyze myself," the injured captain protested. "You, of all people, should know that."

"You should," Janeway replied evenly, knowing her own tactics well enough to avoid them when shown by her counterpart. "You need to look at what is bothering you, what you're afraid of, before you and Annika can move on."

"Move on to what?" Kathryn asked. "We barely speak and when we do it always ends up in an argument. She spent most of last night sitting here giving me hell about taking chances. Kate was right in her office the entire time too, and I'll bet you a load of latinum she didn't have the soundproofing on."

"Would you have?" Janeway asked, already knowing the answer.

"Anyway," Johnson said, giving her double an ineffective glare. "It's as I told you yesterday. Annika and I are different than you and Seven. I can appreciate that you want to help, but with Annika and me..." She shook her head. "We just can't seem to work it out anymore."

"Why? Give me an example," Janeway demanded.

Johnson rubbed her forehead. "All right. We were in the middle of an asteroid belt 50,000 kilometers long with a class seven ion storm on our starboard. On top of that, we were still trying to get breaches on decks four and seven repaired, then of course, I forgot her birthday."

"Ah," Janeway said. "Let me guess. She threw dishes at you."

"Oh no, that isn't Annika's way. The good Doctor Hansen insists on ranting at a level that I'm sure exceeded the soundproofing in my quarters before storming back to her own quarters and not speaking to me for a week. I was humiliated, particularly on the bridge where her disdain for me was so apparent."

"But ... didn't you go after her immediately and apologize?"

"Of course not. I told her I was sorry at the time of the initial argument, but ship's business is ship's business. She didn't want to accept that. Of course, she took it out on me for the rest of the week."

"Now I see why Seven used to get so upset with me," Janeway said ruefully. "You deserved to be punished for a week. If you weren't just three days from having almost died, I'd give you a good slap across the head myself, right now. Why didn't you go to her the next day and tell her that you were a fool and that you'll never miss her birthday again?"

Johnson stared at her as if she had lost her mind. "Because it's better to give her a few days to cool off before I see her," Johnson explained patiently, as if to a child. "She'd rather yell, then just let it go and we move on."

"After you freeze each other out for a week? That's efficient." Janeway restrained a sigh, suspecting that this was just another convenient excuse for her counterpart in order to avoid the real problem. She wondered what she could say that would get through to her, frowning as she thought.

"At least you knew where she was that week after missing her birthday," Janeway pointed out finally. "My Annika left for an away mission and I saw her shuttle explode. It was three months before I discovered she wasn't dead." She looked down at her hands, the old pain still sharp within her, a constant reminder to her to cherish her partner. "That's when things changed with us," she said, trying to find the words that the other woman would understand. "After Seven came back. I received a second chance and I swore I wouldn't waste it. You know it takes only a little programming to make your padd remind you of important events like birthdays and anniversaries."

She managed a bit of a conspiratorial smile.

"It fact, you'd be amazed at how good it looks when you remember the anniversary of your first kiss."

She smiled secretly to herself, remembering with fond satisfaction just how Seven had rewarded her for it ... especially since it had also been the anniversary of their making love for the first time. She might think she was sore at the moment ... but she could scarcely move after that particular night.  The next day, she had barely managed to get through her shift, doing her best not to fall asleep in her captain's chair while she covered the bridge and hoped that no one noticed how she stared, mesmerized, at the Borg during the staff meeting.

"Annika has gotten involved in projects that keep her away, too," Johnson defended, but it was a weak sort of effort. Perhaps she was getting through after all, Janeway thought.

"When she does, do you make sure to let her know you love her and are thinking of her, even if you can't be together?" Janeway pressed. "Just because Seven and I are married doesn't mean we don't need to take the time to woo each other. When was the last time you gave Annika a gift just because you wanted to make her happy, not because you were trying to make up for something or because it was expected?"

"I don't 'woo'," Johnson said firmly, crossing her arms over her chest.

"And that's why your current relationship is going the way of your previous ones," Janeway said, feeling only a little guilty at the sting in her words. "You ... we," she corrected, "both of us ... worked very hard to keep everyone at bay, to wear that command mask of ours like the knights of medieval times. Don't let anyone see anything less than Captain Kathryn Janeway, daughter of an Admiral and on a career track moving faster than warp speed. We kept everyone outside, locked everything up deep inside until it ate away our own Humanity. When was the last time you cried?"

"Help me sit up," Johnson said, gesturing at the controls. She waited until her back was more vertical than horizontal before answering the question. "Alone or in front of someone else?"

"Both."

"Alone, in my ready room, the night before the last battle."

"And with someone else?"

Johnson gave her a sad smile. "You know," she said quietly.

"When we were in the cave on Mars," Janeway guessed correctly. "You've never cried in front of Annika?"

"Well, maybe once or twice after..." Johnson's face flushed slightly.

"That doesn't count." Janeway hopped off the stool and stepped away for a moment to collect her thoughts. "That isn't crying, that's just too much pleasure to deal with." Absently she noted Sek was in the office talking to Dr. Pulaski, the hologram much better at tact and diplomacy than the acerbic Doctor, and she wondered what they were talking about. Probably the shell-shocked crew of this Voyager, she guessed. "You know Katie, it won't kill you. It may hurt for a while, but it won't kill you," she said, drawing her eyes away from the office.

"You want me to cry in front of Annika? I think you've been spending too much time with your holographic counselor, who by the way, I don't want to come within ten meters of me anymore." Johnson shot a glare in Sek's general direction.

Janeway was appropriately concerned. "Did you tell her anything?"

"It is kind of boring lying in this bed staring at the ceiling all day," Johnson said dryly. "She tricked me."

Janeway pulled the stool closer and resumed her seat. "How?" she asked, lowering her voice so it did not carry into the office.

"I didn't know at first that she was your ship's counselor. I just assumed she was still the holographic medical assistant as she was the last time our universes crossed. She started talking about her life on Voyager, how much of a village it's become, that kind of thing." Johnson raised an eyebrow. "There is not a snowball's chance on Mercury that I would willingly take command of a generational ship, by the way. How you're doing it is beyond me. Anyway, I don't know how she did it but before I knew it, we were talking about Indiana and Mom and Phoebe and we even chatted about the Academy."

"When the hell did you figure it out?" Janeway asked with some trepidation, more than a little concerned that so much of her personal history was now known to the ship's counselor.

"The instant she tried to steer me into talking about Daddy. I gave her the look and she backed right off."

Janeway's lips quirked into a smile. "I've given her that look before. It's quite effective when I have to shove her back into line." She rubbed her forehead, deciding she needed to change the subject, certain she did not want to know exactly what details had been shared with Sek. "And yes, I want you to cry in front of Annika."

Johnson's face became still. "Why?"

"Because that's the easiest way to open up to her," Janeway said gently. "Let's be very clear, here. We couldn't stop ourselves from falling in love with Annika Hansen any more than we could voluntarily stop breathing. But that's where you stopped, Katie. You let her in, felt her love and gave some back in return, but that was it. You're not willing to give it all to her and until you do, you're just going to stay in this miserable place until she can't take it anymore and leaves you." She rested her hand on Johnson's knee. "Just do it, Katie. Have Annika hold you and turn the lights down, and just talk to her until it comes."

Sad gray eyes watched the activity in the office for a moment before turning back to Janeway. "I wouldn't know where to start."

"Then, it's a good thing you're stuck in this biobed because I have plenty of suggestions," Janeway said, hopping off her stool and retrieving a portable table containing a padd and stacks of data chips. "These are some copies of my personal logs since Seven and I became a couple. I hope you find something to help you by reading what happened with us and how we got through it." She deliberately did not mention that some of those data chips were not logs at all but the letters she had been exchanging with her mother and Phoebe. Seven had relayed the information Hansen had told her about the strain between Johnson and her mother. "Now you have something to occupy your time."

"Thank you so much," Johnson said dryly. "I thought I might actually get caught up on some paperwork."

"Not while you're relieved of command," Janeway reminded. "Speaking of command, care to share your authorization code?"

Johnson allowed a small smirk. "How many times did you guess?"

"Twice. You know one more causes a report to go to Tuvok."

"On my ship it goes to Lt. Lessing, he's in charge of security. Why do you need to get in the top files?"

"Simple curiosity?" Janeway offered, hoping the other woman would believe the poker face she was showing. "I just wanted to see what was going on in your Federation."

"Not a chance," the recovering captain said. "Anything critical to the ship would have automatically been transferred to Tuvok when he took formal command."

Apparently the poker face did not work. "All right, what was in that communiqué?"

Johnson flinched. "Nothing that concerns anyone on Voyager," she said.

"That's where you're wrong, Katie. Look at who you're talking to. You can't fool me any more than I can fool you. Whatever is in there, has been bothering you for weeks, hasn't it? That's why you've been on this drive to go after the Dominion regardless of the sacrifice."

"How's Harry Kim?"

"You're darting the question," Janeway pointed out. "But he's fine. Married Megan Delaney and has a beautiful baby boy."

Johnson smiled. "That's really nice," she said wistfully. "I wish my Harry had been able to have his future." She looked away, her eyes focusing on a far wall. "The Federation is losing the war," she admitted. "We're building transwarp capable ships as quickly as we can, but between the sheer numbers against us and the lack of capable pilots, we just can't get the upper hand. Our shields are good, better than they've ever been but it's not enough to keep us in the thick of a fight long enough to inflict any substantial damage before their reinforcements arrive. The Federation just can't afford to send out five and six ship patrols."

Janeway nodded, understanding from years of experience just what was happening. "Is there still a chance the Federation can win?"

"Possibly the same way every war is won; build them faster than they can blow them up, make our weapons and shields stronger and get some experienced pilots to fly the ships." Johnson's face grew clouded. "But as each day passes, it seems more and more unlikely. The Liberty was lost in a Jem'Hadar ambush."

It took a few seconds for the information to sink in. "Wasn't that the ship your Tom and B'Elanna were on?"

Johnson nodded. "Tom, B'Elanna and Ensign Vorik. Out of the 131 people I brought home, over fifty have been killed by the war so far. Owen Paris sends me communiqués to keep me informed. He's keeping a close eye on the advance for me, and if it gets too close to Earth's system, he has the means necessary to get Mom and Phoebe to safety." She looked over at the office, double checking to make sure she wasn't being overheard. "It's gotten to the point where they're looking at expanding the nanoprobe research to see if there's a way to assimilate the ships into useless lumps of metal like the probes did when they were in the wrong quantum signature. The problem is, we just can't figure out how to keep the nanoprobes active in the rifle casing or phaser banks before we fire them at the ships we do want them to assimilate."

Now Janeway was truly tempted to take a smack at her genetic double. "It was Annika who figured out how to convert the nanoprobes in the first place. Why would you keep her in the dark about this?"

"Because we don't have the research facilities or the equipment to work on a project like that on Voyager, and this is where she's posted." Johnson's eyes shifted away, shamed. "Anyway, Starfleet already has a team of over a hundred physicists and scientists working on the original data in a facility twice the size of the area allocated for the original project. But they're getting nowhere." Johnson rubbed her eyes and sighed. "That's why her parents are on the ship. They're going to Deep Space Five for a military conference and part of it is seeing if there's any way to use the Borg physiology we know about in designing weapons to defeat the Dominion."

"They're exobiologists, so any contribution Annika's parents might make would be in the form of ... biological weapons." Janeway's face went still. "Using nanoprobes as a viral agent of some sort on the Dominion soldiers?" She didn't like it, but since she had been prepared to use such weapons herself in the past, she couldn't very well get self-righteous about the moral implications now. "Do they know that's what they're going to be asked to do?"

Johnson gave a short laugh, devoid of humor and filled with more than a little bitterness. "Not a chance. They only know they're being given the opportunity to work on a project involving Borg technology. That's all most of the scientists going to the conference know right now. It's a good thing too, I don't need to listen to any more of the Hansens' tirades about the evil imperialistic Federation or how I'm just a puppet for Starfleet. I get enough of that from their daughter." She paused, thinking about what she had said and added sheepishly. "Actually she's been much better about Starfleet and the Federation since the war heated up. At least she hasn't been yelling at me about it, but I don't think she could forgive Starfleet ... or me ... for utilizing her parents' knowledge this way."

"But maybe Annika has come to understand just what the Federation means to her and everyone she knows. I doubt even her parents would want to live under Dominion rule, and I'm sure everyone recognizes that it's Starfleet that's going to win or lose the war. Why don't you just ask them?"

Johnson looked bleakly at the foot of the biobed. "Starfleet doesn't work that way, anymore," she said sadly.

Before Janeway could respond to that, there was motion from the office and both women looked up as Pulaski and Sek exited. To Janeway's surprise and Johnson's obvious relief, Sek merely nodded in their direction and left the medical center without stopping to talk. Pulaski, however, made her way over to join the two Starfleet captains.

"Kicking me out?" Janeway asked.

"Kicking you both out," she said. "At least, today for you, Janeway. Tomorrow morning for your partner in crime there."

Johnson looked vaguely pleased, but not entirely so. "What about my command?" she demanded sharply.

Pulaski hesitated, shooting a quick glance at Janeway before fixing Johnson with an implacable expression. "I didn't remove you from command because of your physical injuries, I took it away because of your mental state, and since that is now being treated by our friend here, she'll let me know when you're fit to resume command." She motioned at Janeway with a quick jerk of her thumb. "In other words, Captain Johnson, it's not me that you'll have to convince anymore, it's your counterpart and somehow, I don't think she'll be an easy one to fool when it comes to how you're really feeling. You won't be able to hide behind a rank with her."

Janeway felt the implication of what Pulaski said impact harshly, knowing exactly what it signified in terms of the responsibility just handed her. She glared at Pulaski as the medical officer strolled away, every millimeter of her radiating abject satisfaction. Then she became aware of being under someone else's scrutiny, and she turned to look into steel-grey eyes and forced a bit of a sly grin, displaying an expression of firm resolve.

"So," she said dryly, with a casualness she was far from feeling. "I guess that means you have all day tomorrow to convince me. Otherwise, I guess I'll have to let Sek have a go at you."

Seven of Nine stood for a moment in front of the door, controlling the feelings swirling within her with an effort of will she had never known she possessed. Knowing it would not do to enter with her emotions in such an uncontrolled state, she needed to be in command, to handle this with the same competence and composure she believed her partner would utilize in a similar situation. She did wish, however, that she had managed to run into Sek at some point as her thoughts were more jumbled now than when she had interacted with the Mimic. Except this time, the people on the other side of the grey door weren't impostors, or shapeshifters or aliens, they were the exact same people as her own parents, simply with a different path taken in their lives. Their blood was her blood and it was going to take steel in hers to make it through this encounter.

Taking a long, slow, deliberate breath, Seven tried not to notice her finger shake as she touched the door chime. Her enhanced audio capabilities clearly heard it echo briefly inside, then she detected the softer sound of footsteps crossing carpeted deck. The door hissed open, and Dr. Erin Hansen stood there, alive and well, older than what the Mimic had appeared as, but then, that was to be expected. The Mimic could only replicate what Seven's mind had imagined, not what time and varied life experience would actually do to the woman.

Seven was entirely certain that if it were not for her nanoprobes, she would be face down on the floor right now. As it was, she swayed slightly, and felt her pulse pound in her temples, throbbing around her eyepiece.

"Dr. Hansen?" The Borg's normally clear tone was higher than usual, an effect she blamed on her racing heart and respiration that threatened to cause hyperventilation. It was an effort to maintain her Borg shell which had served to hide her true feelings so many times before.

Erin stared at Seven, the hazel eyes wide and astounded. "Oh," she said, shaking her head a little as if to physically reimpose her will on herself. "You must be Seven of Nine. Come in, please."

"Thank you," Seven said politely, still rigidly controlled as she entered the quarters. Her footsteps faltered a little as she saw the man standing uncertainly by the table. This was not the drone caricature the Borg queen had displayed so sadistically to Seven, but rather the man her six-year-old self remembered from so long ago, the man who tucked her in bed and told her stories about other beings, a little older, a few wrinkles, a little grayer at the temples, but with the same, kindly blue eyes. Because of the Mimic, she had been somewhat prepared for Erin. She was not at all prepared for Magnus.

"Doctor," she managed. She stopped in the center of the room, linking her hands behind her back as she regarded the couple. Erin had moved over to her husband's side, taking his hand and unconsciously, he wrapped his other arm about her shoulders. The silence stretched on awkwardly as Seven endured their scrutiny, regarding them with intense scientific curiosity.

They were somewhat smaller than she had expected, a part of her thought dispassionately. Neither was as tall or as imposing as her anticipation had indicated. Indeed, she was almost as tall as Magnus, her eyes level with his nose. She practically towered over Erin.

Magnus started. "I apologize for ... staring," he said finally. "I'm not sure what we were expecting."

Seven tilted her head. "I too, am uncertain," she admitted carefully. She took a breath. "I do not ... remember my parents very well. Bits and pieces of memory surface occasionally, but for the most part, I do not know ... you." She decided she would not refer to the Mimic at all. That encounter would simply confuse an already entangled situation.

Another silence, then Erin cleared her throat. "Uh, would you care to sit down ... Seven?"

Seven actually preferred to stand, but she was aware that things might go easier if she took a seat. She nodded and gingerly sat in the chair positioned opposite the sofa. Erin and Magnus sank down on the couch, both leaning forward slightly.

"Would you like some tea?" Erin asked.

"I do not require liquid refreshment at this time," Seven said, wondering if she should have accepted instead. Her precise tones and body language were obviously making the couple uneasy, but she was not prepared to alter either for the time being.

"Annika ... our daughter told us that you wished to meet us," Magnus remarked. "May I ask why?"

Seven raised an eyebrow. "In truth, it was her idea," she said. She searched for something else to say. "Perhaps she felt that meeting you would allow me some resolution to my own situation."

"Resolution?" Erin asked.

Seven hesitated, wondering how to explain. She decided to go with the truth as much as possible. "Because I did not remember much of my parents, I did not have the same sense of family ties that an average Human would have," she said slowly, working it out as she went along. "However, as I developed from the drone I had been, I began to create emotional links with others, friendships, and eventually, a romantic involvement."

"With Captain Johnson's counterpart," Erin said, and there was just the slightest hint of disapproval in her tone that she probably wasn't even aware of, so ingrained was her antipathy for Starfleet.

Seven pinned her with a laser look. "Yes," she said. "Kathryn Janeway severed me from the Collective. She took me from being a drone and taught me how to be Human again." She saw the sting of the word 'drone' on Erin's face and deliberately gentled her tone. "In doing so, she and I forged a bond stronger than either of us expected. We fell in love."

Seven shifted her eyes to the male Hansen, trying to judge how he was reacting to her story. His eyes were clouded, as if deep emotions were swirling about inside but the rest of his face was gentle and she continued. "As I developed all these relationships and emotional ties, I began to appreciate family bonds. I discovered that I was ... resentful of the actions my parents took during my childhood which resulted in my assimilation. Of the fact that they had been so intent on achieving their own goals, they did not allow for their child's well being. Recently, an incident brought those feelings into the fore, making them even more difficult to deal with." She took a breath. "Kathryn and I plan to expand our family unit in the future. I do not wish to be the sort of parent that places my own needs above that of my children. I believe that by working out my emotions regarding you ... or rather, my parents which you are in another reality, I can resolve these uncertainties about the sort of parent I will make and proceed with my life." She wondered if this was actually what she had hoped to achieve with this meeting, but it seemed so right as she was speaking that she thought that it must be.

"I think that I ... just wanted to see you again, as you might have been, in the hopes that it would bring closure to this part of my life," she said softly. "I apologize if that has unduly upset you."

Dr. Hansen finally cleared his throat, breaking the silence that had fallen over them all. There were tears in Erin's eyes, making them shine, and Magnus swallowed visibly several times, as if needing to clear a tightness in his throat.

"And does it?" he asked gently, his voice huskier than before.

Seven stared at him blankly. "I do not comprehend the question?" she said.

Erin reached out and touched Seven's hand lightly. "Can you say good-bye to them now?" she said, more precise in what this all might really be about.

Seven was impressed by their prescience. That had not actually occurred to her, but now that it had been mentioned, she realized that was exactly why she had required this meeting ... to finally say good-bye.

Seven considered it carefully as she stared at the point where her and Erin's hands touched. "Yes," she said. "I believe I can," she said quietly. "I have learned that it is all right to love them, and even to miss them, but it is time to let them go. To let go any residual anger I might have regarding them." She regarded them both with a little less Borg distance and a little more of her true self. "Thank you for indulging me in this. It was a kindness you did not have to engage in."

"We're just glad we could help," Magnus said. His mouth was twisted a little, as if he was tasting something he didn't much like. "May I ask you a question?"

"Of course," Seven invited.

"Do you know if your parents are still part of the Collective?"

Seven tilted her head. "I had the opportunity to see my father after I was severed," she explained. "The sphere he was on was crushed in a collapsing transwarp conduit. I must assume that he is dead. My mother..." She paused, swallowed. "I am unsure if she even survived the initial assimilation. Some do not. The only way for me to determine if she is still part of the Collective is to rejoin with it. In that event, I would no longer care if she existed so it would be a futile plan in any event." She took a deep breath. "It is a difficult reality to accept ... but I must."

The exobiologist rubbed his face with his hand, and stared down at the floor. "I'm sorry," he said. "I ... for everything. You have every right to hate them ... us."

Seven raised an eyebrow. "I do not hate you ... or them," she noted with surprise. "Resentment is not the same as hate." She paused, wanting for some reason, to comfort this couple who were obviously distressed by her words. "Indeed, I have come here to try to work past that resentment as well." She inhaled deeply, searching for some way to explain herself. "I have a friend, Naomi. She is six years old. She once told me that sometimes things are too big for parents. That it was doubtful that either of them intended to cause me harm. I realized that I must forgive any hurt that was unintentionally caused."

"Nonetheless, harm was done," Erin said, an edge to her tone. Seven eyed her curiously. The woman seemed angry and she wondered at whom? Her counterpart?

"It is still forgivable," Seven pointed out gently. "Only if harm is continued, even after one sees how much one's actions hurt, is one truly to blame." She noticed that Magnus seemed very upset, his head turned away.

"Excuse me," he said.

He disappeared into the bedroom, leaving Erin and Seven alone. Seven wondered if he was going to weep and if so, why he felt the need to leave. Was he ashamed of showing his tears in front of her?

"Are you sure I can't get you something to drink? Tea perhaps?" Erin attempted to ease the terse silence which had fallen between them.

Seven considered the request and decided that, since it was the second time it had been made, Dr. Hansen truly wanted her to drink something. "That would be acceptable," she said. "Herbal tea, if you have it." Her hunch once again proved right as Erin quickly went to the replicator and programmed the instructions in.

"I have to be honest," the older woman said, facing away from Seven. "I wasn't sure what to expect when Annika said you wanted to meet us."

"I also was unsure," Seven allowed, her eyes never leaving Erin as the tea was brought to the table and the older woman sat down. "I was concerned that you would refuse, but I was also quite apprehensive that you would accede to my request."

Erin gave her an understanding smile. "I know the feeling. Annika didn't really tell us much about you." Her eyes fell to the untouched cup in front of Seven. "Have you ever had tea?"

"Many times. Kathryn enjoys coffee, but I prefer herbal tea since caffeine interferes with my cortical implant. Kathryn says it makes me hyper." Seven considered why the question was asked. "My digestive system is fully functional."

"I'm sorry," Erin said. "I didn't know ... I wasn't sure if..." The intelligent scientist found herself having to take a moment to compose her thoughts. "You still have implants. I'm not sure what you can and cannot do." She reached across the table and gently touched Seven's right hand. "I don't want to offend you with my ignorance."

"My cortical implant controls my nanoprobes as well as the other implants including my biogenetic material. I may yet lose some more as I become more Human, but some are required for the rest of my life. They are a part of who I am."

"Your eye?" Erin ventured hesitantly. "That's an optical implant, isn't it?" Seven nodded. The older woman looked at the mesh covered hand resting on the table. "May I?" Taking it in her own, Dr. Hansen ran her fingertip over the bands of metal. "Your hand too," she whispered sadly, blinking back tears. "I'm sorry," she said, releasing Seven's hand and sitting back. "It's just so hard to believe that we could have let this happen to our daughter, no matter what the universe."

"It was an arrogance," Seven remarked calmly. "The innate sense of superiority that their way must be correct and everyone else must be wrong." She smiled faintly, easing the harshness of her words. "It is a trait that I believe I inherited in great measure. Certainly, Kathryn has mentioned that it is ... or was ... one of my more irritating qualities." She took a sip of her tea. "Certainly, I have caused myself difficulty with such arrogance. But what I most regret are the people I hurt by insisting I knew what was correct when indeed, I was lacking sufficient information to make such a determination." She raised her eyes, pinning Erin with her gaze. "Of what comfort is being 'right' when the people I cared for were hurt by it? Some of the greatest lessons I have learned in resuming my Humanity are the art of compromise and acceptance of others, particularly with those I love."

Erin looked away, coloring slightly, and Seven wondered if her words were somehow hurting the older woman, which was not what she had intended at all. She was relieved when she heard footsteps from the bedroom and she looked up as Magnus returned, his face clear, his eyes dry, though slightly reddened. He was carrying a binder of sorts, thin sheets of metal that, when opened, displayed dual screens on the inside. Seven recognized it immediately as a 'photo album', capable of containing as much as a gigaquad worth of images.

"I thought you might like to see this," he said, handing it to Seven uncertainly. "It's of Annika." He shook his head and made as if to withdraw it. "I'm sorry, that was a foolish idea. I can't imagine what I was thinking."

"No," Seven said, quickly reaching out to take the binder from him. "I would enjoy viewing these." She regarded Erin. "Perhaps if you would assist me by explaining what I am looking at?"

"Of course," the woman said, a touch of eagerness in her voice.

Seven obligingly moved over to the couch and perched between the couple, Magnus on her left and Erin on her right, as she activated the album. The first series of images were of a very young Annika Hansen, and they skimmed through them quickly. Seven had a similar album back on Voyager which had been salvaged from The Raven, though she had only started to look at it recently, after her encounter with the Mimic. The images tended to force memories to rise from the grey mists of her mind, some wonderful, but others that made her hurt and cry helplessly in Kathryn's arms late at night, so looking at it was something she did only sporadically.

Seven and Annika's life had paralleled exactly until the age of four and it was the images taken after that which most interested the Borg. Fascinated, she witnessed the evolution of Annika Hansen's life, through birthdays and other holidays, of her schooling and formal pictures taken during proms and other important milestones. Many of them showed Annika Hansen receiving numerous awards and honors. Seven stopped on an image showing a teenaged Annika sitting on a horse. "What is that?" she asked.

"A horse?" Erin asked.

"No," the Borg said, pointing at the red bumps on Annika's face in the photo. "Those injuries."

Both Erin and Magnus laughed and Seven realized she made a faux pas. "Annika had a tough time with acne when she was younger," Magnus said. "We tried every treatment the doctors suggested, but she was just one of those rare girls where medical treatment couldn't seem to keep it under control."

"It is a disease?" Seven was aghast at the idea of such an affliction. "What cure did you find for her?"

Erin patted Seven's hand. "Acne is a condition caused by hormonal changes occurring during pubescence. The only cure when the hyposprays and creams don't work is time. Annika grew out of it when she was about nineteen or so."

Magnus advanced to the next set of images, showing Annika at the same age but instead of being on a horse, the teenager was standing at some sort of a party wearing a dress that Seven decided she would not be caught dead in. The look on Annika's face mirrored Seven's assessment of the aesthetic quality of the dress. "That was a father/daughter dance held at Daystrom," he explained. "Since I was an instructor there and she was a student, it was expected that we would attend."

"My mother picked out Annika's dress," Erin said.

"It is most inefficient for dancing," Seven noted, doing her best to be polite about the vile looking garment.

Magnus laughed. "That it was," he agreed. "Not that Annika would be caught dead on the dance floor with her father and his two left feet."

Seven recognized the slang term, having heard it more than once from Ro in regards to B'Elanna's ability on the dance floor.

"Personally I thought the dress was just awful," Erin confided. "But that was the style back then."

"I concur with you," Seven said, earning a smile from Erin. Privately, the Borg saw a benefit in spending that time in a maturation chamber. She advanced the pages of the album again, stopping on the image of Annika's graduation from the Daystrom Institute.

"Kathryn says that the Daystrom Institute is only for the 'brightest' students and the most brilliant scientists."

"It is," Erin said.

"Annika is very intelligent," Seven remarked. "You must be very proud."

"We are," Magnus said, exchanging a look with his wife that the Borg missed entirely.

Seven nodded. "I would like to think that my parents would have pride in me if they were able to see me now," she said wistfully. "Annika must appreciate hearing such things from you."

There was a silence, and she glanced over at Erin who had her head bent, teardrops glistening on her lashes. "Dr. Hansen?"

Erin cleared her throat. "We don't tell her very often," she said. "And certainly, Magnus has told her far more than I ever have in her life."

Seven blinked. "Indeed?" she queried, confused. "Why?"

Erin shook her head. "At the moment," she said huskily, "I don't really have a good reason."

"Are you not proud of her?" Seven persisted.

"Of course," Erin said, then raised her head, her face hardening. "But she's made some choices in her life that we don't necessarily agree with."

Seven raised an eyebrow. "I was unaware that I must approve every decision my future children will make," she said with complete astonishment. "I was under the impression that I must simply do my best to guide them when they are children and trust that they will be good people when they are adults." She paused. "Kathryn says that it will not be our place to define who are children will be, but merely give them the tools to hopefully make themselves happy as they mature." She turned her head, looking back and forth between the two. "You have an alternative way of parenting."

There was a silence. "Yeah," Magnus said finally, his tone harsh. "We try as hard as we can to force our child into our own image and never stop telling her how disappointed we are when she dares to break out of it."

Seven considered that. "It seems ... inefficient," she allowed uncertainly. "But I am Borg, so perhaps I will not be a good parent after all."

"You'll be a wonderful parent," Erin said fiercely, swallowing hard as she turned her head to look at Seven, her hazel eyes swimming. She reached out and grasped Seven's wrist, holding it intently. "You're a wonderful person, Seven of Nine. I know in my heart that you'll be a wonderful parent."

The Borg was completely at a loss at how to respond to that.

"Thank you," she said finally, feeling it inadequate, but not knowing what else to say.

She truly felt as if she needed Kathryn's advice now, but feared it would have to wait until she returned to her own ship. Until then, she would just have to work her way through the rest of this very confusing encounter on her own and adapt to whatever happened as best she could. Absently she began turning back the files in the album until she found the image of the dance. "Did she ever dance with you?" she asked the man sitting next to her, an image coalescing briefly from the mists of her memory.

"At the dance? No, but when she was younger, we danced a lot. By the time she was a teenager, however, I guess I stepped on her toes enough times that she knew better." He cocked his head, looking at her thoughtfully. "Do you dance, Seven?"

"We often have 'dance night' on Voyager. Kathryn has taught me many types of dance including the waltz and the tango. She loves to dance and I have achieved an appreciation of it as well."

Magnus smiled. "Well, I'd most certainly fail at the tango," he said, Erin giving him an agreeable smile. "But if I could?" He stood up and held his hand out for her in silent invitation.

"That would be ... acceptable," Seven managed, surprised and nervous about the offer as she allowed herself to be led to a relatively clear section of the living room. Magnus took the lead, his hands resting loosely on her waist as a brief word to the computer initiated the music which played in a familiar rhythm. This close, Seven's eidetic memory stored away every detail of his face, every wrinkle, the gentle look in his eyes, the nose that was so much like her own. The scent of his cologne was stronger now than when they had been sitting on the couch and memories came to her unbidden, of being five years old and sitting on her father's lap while he told her a story or held her after she had a bad dream.

"You wear the same cologne," she noted softly.

"Yes I do," he said with a gentle smile. "You always did like that scent."

"Yes," she agreed as more memories flashed. "I had forgotten."

Seven did not resist when he pulled her closer, urging her to rest her head on his shoulder as they danced. Her eyes closed, she did not see the tears glistening on his cheeks or the sadness etched in every line of Erin's face. Indeed, Seven was in a place and time far away from here and now ... when a six year old child was dancing playfully around the bridge of the Raven with the father she adored.

Janeway looked over the last of the engineering reports that Chakotay had handed her earlier, scanning the list of repairs made and those that had yet to be completed. At this rate, Voyager II would be up to speed in another three to four days. In the meantime, the specs for shield, weapon, and propulsion improvements had already been downloaded from Voyager II to her own ship's databanks, which could provide a decided advantage in the rest of their journey through the Delta Quadrant. Janeway wasn't entirely sure of the protocols involving such a thing and suspected that there weren't any. Which was only to the good as far as she was concerned. Until they were written, she would be able to err on the side of what was best for her ship and crew.

She frowned faintly, realizing that with Johnson getting out of sickbay the next morning, that did not leave much time to reunite the couple's counterparts. A part of her laughed at the delicious irony of her playing matchmaker yet again for her other self, while another part wondered if she was doing the right thing. After all, it had taken an amazing combination of events for her and Seven to have found their way to each other. It didn't necessarily follow that it was meant to be for herself in another universe.

Then she remembered the look in Johnson's eyes and the way Hansen had reacted to the captain's injuries, and she knew she would never forgive herself if she gave up at this point. She sighed, finished the last dregs of coffee in her lucky cup, and checked the chronometer, noting that her duty shift had finally come to an end. Of course, as captain, technically she was always on duty, but since being married, she tried to maintain a regular routine whenever she could, for her spouse's sake if not her own. Though, if she was forced to be honest, the knowledge that there was someone like Seven waiting for her in her quarters made it a great deal easier to log off and put non-crucial tasks aside for the next day. Her priorities had altered significantly since falling in love with the young woman and there was not one part of her that hadn't come to believe it was truly for the better.

Her crew must have thought so too because as she left the ready room, she noted a rather wistful grin on Chakotay's face as he accepted her nod, all they required now to indicate the shift change. He would stay on a little longer, make sure the beta shift was settled, before logging off himself, no doubt to have a quiet dinner in the messhall before retiring to his quarters.

She felt for him, but he had made it clear he was not interested in any help she might be able to offer regarding his love life, so she returned the grin and stepped into the turbolift, raising her head to mutter a quiet "deck three" to the computer.

She was a little disappointed to see that Seven had yet to make it home, and a quick check with the computer revealed that 'Seven of Nine was no longer on Voyager', meaning that she was undoubtedly on the other Federation vessel. Janeway swallowed her disappointment and moved into the bedroom where she changed out of her uniform and into a simple t-shirt and trousers. She came back out into the living area where she released the B'Rethna ... after making sure her quarters were secure from any quick escapes ... so that the little catling and Jake could have a brief romp.

It was fortunate that their babysitting chores with Little Harry had required the couple to place any breakables out of reach or remove them from the quarters totally. The two animals wasted little time in disassembling the living area, the B'Rethna taking the high road, flowing over the back of the couch, the chairs, along the shelves and desks, while Jake tore around the deck. Janeway prudently retreated to the relative safety of the kitchenette, standing behind the counter as she cleaned the cage and refilled the food and water dish.

By the time she had finished, the two animals had finished their initial, insane tear and were now wrestling happily in the middle of the floor, though how two creatures of such size disparity could wrestle with any success was beyond her ... yet, they seemed to be accomplishing it quite nicely. For a moment, the captain actually entertained the thought of keeping the furry creature, then Libby abruptly broke loose and took an astonishing leap up over the workstations, then high on the wall where she rebounded off some shelves, scattering a half dozen knickknacks in her wake, and Janeway immediately got over the urge.

After cleaning up the broken pieces and securing Libby back in the cage, she had come the conclusion that she couldn't wait to pass the furry little nightmare on to someone far more deserving.

The door hissed open as she tossed the last of the mess in the recycler and she glanced over to see her partner enter. One look at Seven's face told her more in one second than a thousand words could in an hour and without speaking she enfolded the young woman into a tight embrace, holding her tightly as the Borg trembled violently. Janeway guessed that Seven had been restraining herself until she reached their quarters, but now, in this haven of her home and her partner's arms, she had leave to let go. Janeway hugged her close, rubbing the small of Seven's back and murmuring words that did not have to make sense as long as the tone was comforting. After a few moments, she managed to nudge Seven over to the sofa where they settled onto it, the young woman still clinging to her for comfort.

Janeway waited until the worst of the tremors had passed and Seven had once more managed to gather together most of her tattered composure.

"Tell me," she requested softly.

"I saw ... them," Seven said, swallowing hard. "My ... the Hansens."

Janeway closed her eyes and rested her chin on the top of Seven's blonde hair, cuddling her head warmly to her chest. "I see," she murmured. "Do you want to tell me what happened? What did they do to you?" A fierce sense of protectiveness came over her and she held Seven tighter.

"It was not bad," Seven said finally. "I know you probably assume that by how I am acting, but it is merely a physiological response to all the feelings I have held in check today."

"All right," Janeway allowed evenly, drawing back so she could look into her partner's face. A wealth of emotions chased each other across the young woman's narrow features, and the captain knew it would take a while to sort them all out. Fortunately, her evening was completely free and she slowed things down further by reaching out and kissing Seven softly, lingering over the full lips. "One thing at a time, darling," she said after a moment or two. "I'm here for you. We can take as long as you need."

Seven nodded, sitting up rather than lying across the captain as she had been doing, and straightening her outfit though it never really required adjusting, clinging as it did to her form. She took a slow, deep inhalation and began to speak, obviously trying to arrange her thoughts into some semblance of order.

"I went to their quarters at 1400 hours," she said, falling into a rhythm of reciting that, undoubtedly, made it easier for her give herself some much needed distance from what had happened. "The Hansens greeted me and we discussed why I had requested the meeting."

"Why did you?" Janeway asked, with honest curiosity.

"I did not know initially," Seven admitted. "But now I believe it was because I wished to say good-bye to them. Does that make sense?"

Janeway thought about it. "Perhaps," she said quietly. "I know you never really got to say good-bye to your real parents. Did it help?"

Seven's gaze faded, as if she were looking inside herself, and Janeway waited patiently.

"Yes," Seven said finally. "I believe it did. I no longer feel so ... adrift." Her pale eyes rose to meet Janeway's. "I have felt ... so lost since my encounter with the Mimic, even with you and Sek helping me. I no longer feel that, now, though I am uncertain why that is so."

"That's good to hear, darling," the captain said, swallowing back the lump which had appeared in her throat. She had felt so impotent, unable to help her partner during such an emotionally disturbing time. It had taken an effort to accept that maybe she simply couldn't be everything that Seven required all the time. To know that now at least, Seven had found her own way to deal with it, made her honestly happy for her partner. "I'm truly glad that if nothing else, we've gotten that much out of our current situation."

Seven nodded and took a few deep breaths, centering herself.

"After my reasoning had been established," Seven continued, "we looked through a photo album containing images of Annika and her life. It was interesting to see how she progressed through the years, and what might have been for me had my path been different. The Hansens were full of many stories about their daughter, yet..." She trailed off, her eyes shadowed as she looked down, studying her hand idly. It was the left one, its silver mesh glinting slightly in the subdued lighting. "They are so distant from Annika," she said softly, slowly. "Though a certain percentage of it is by their own choice, it seems also to be something they are helpless to counter, even as they dearly want to." She glanced over as Janeway took her implant between her own hands, cradling it gently. "They are just ... just people, Kathryn," she added, in a vaguely confused tone. "They are ... merely Human."

"Yes," Janeway said softly, a small smile curling the corners of her mouth. "I'm sure they are. Not the root of all evil, not the ones truly responsible for everything bad that has ever happened to Annika ... or you." She smiled gently. "It's a big surprise, isn't it? To know that parents don't always have complete control of the situation? That most of the time, they're just bumbling their own way through life the same as we are."

"It is," Seven allowed quietly. "I know that I had discussed this before with you, and with B'Elanna. But until now, I do not think I really understood it."

She turned slightly, then, her body angling toward Janeway, she slipped her right arm around the captain and pulled her close to her. Janeway could feel her rest her cheek against her temple, and she leaned into the young woman, offering her strength and support without words, slipping her own arm around Seven's waist as she continued to retain her grip on Seven's left hand. They sat in silence for a few moments, and Janeway nurtured it, bringing Seven's palm up to her lips where she kissed it gently between the metallic bands of soft grey.

"It has given me much to think about," Seven said finally.

"That's not surprising," Janeway said simply. "It will be something that will be with you for a long time as you finish working it out. Just know that I'll be here to listen whenever you need to talk about it."

"I know, Kathryn," Seven whispered into the auburn hair.

There was another pause, more comfortable this time. "I spoke to Johnson again today," Janeway added casually, not sure if Seven was ready to change the subject, but offering her the opportunity nonetheless.

"Indeed," Seven responded. The Borg leaned back against the sofa cushions behind her and Janeway settled down with her, the couple relaxing into the undeniable comfort they always managed to find in each other, contentment weaving its inevitable spell over them. "Did she indicate what was in the communiqué?"

Janeway chuckled. "Trust you to cut to the heart of the matter," she muttered. "As a matter of fact, yes." She sobered. "The war's going very badly for them, love," she revealed quietly. "It's so bad that even Earth might fall. They've come up with a plan to incorporate the altered nanoprobes into their weapons, if only they can figure out how to limit it to merely assimilating Dominion ships and technology into useless lumps of metal. The Hansens, meanwhile, are on their way to a scientific conference to work on the Borg aspect of the effort, in the hopes they can come up with some form of biological agent that would work on the Dominion."

Seven blinked. "I do not believe that would be acceptable to them," she said.

"They might not have much choice," Janeway responded, her voice hardening. "It's help Starfleet, or end up under Dominion rule. How do they think they continue to enjoy the privileges of living free in the Federation? Do they think freedom happens by accident, by Divine intervention?"

"I'm sure they do not think that," Seven said mildly, and Janeway tempered her flare of outrage over the civilian scientists, realizing she was taking it out on the one person who least deserved it.

"Sorry, darling," she muttered, vaguely embarrassed. "In any event, this may be the Federation's last hope. I mean, look at that crew, Seven. Except for a few officers here and there, pulled out of retirement or administrative positions, the rest are all kids, barely old enough to graduate the Academy. Do you realize what that implies about how badly Starfleet is hurting? It's far worse than what we'll have to face when we return home."

"I understand, Kathryn," Seven said calmly. She grew thoughtful and Janeway remained silent, wondering what was going through that unique mind of her partner's. "Perhaps we could convince the Hansens that it is in their best interests to cooperate with Starfleet?"

"Us?" Janeway was floored. "You mean, you and me?"

Seven smiled faintly, her ice blue eyes warming with amusement. "That is usually what I am referring to when I use the term 'us'," she pointed out. "We have no ulterior motivations other than the desire to see our counterparts happy. And despite the problems they have had, I truly believe that the Hansens wish to see Annika happy, as well. Plus, it is to their advantage to live in the Federation rather than under the Dominion. From the information we have received from our Federation's encounter with them, we know that the Founders utilize a great deal of genetic manipulation on the species under their control, particularly with the Jem'Hadar and the Vorta. As specialists in Borg cybernetics, the Hansens would be immediately utilized by the commanding forces of the Dominion. Perhaps if we point out how losing the war will directly affect their own future, they will be more inclined to help."

Janeway thought about that warily, looking at it from all angles. "You mean, put a personal connection to the whole thing," she said slowly, with grudging approval. "Make them realize that they aren't apart from this war, that indeed, it will affect them as much as it is affecting their daughter and every other Starfleet officer." She took a deep breath, nodded. "That's a damned good idea, darling. I'll admit, sometimes Starfleet does its job too well. We keep all the threats and hazards at bay, and the billions of civilians we protect are sometimes unaware of what exactly it takes for them to be able to enjoy the peaceful life they have. Perhaps that's as much our fault as theirs, surrounding ourselves with protocols and regulations, keeping them outside our special little world, believing we are all the Federation needs to survive, expand and succeed. Only when something like this happens, do we all realize what's truly at stake and why Starfleet exists in the first place. To preserve and protect the Federation ideals and culture."

Seven blinked. "That is ... most profound," she said.

"Hey," Janeway muttered, poking her partner in the ribs with her thumb. "I can be profound. I'm not totally stuck in my own little rut."

"I never thought you were," Seven remarked with warm amusement. She hugged Janeway close, brushing her lips over the captain's brow. "What we must do is divert everyone else from their 'ruts'. Kathryn and Annika from their circle of not communicating, the Hansens from refusing to understand the larger picture, and the other Voyager from its belief that they are incapable of victory."

Janeway inhaled slowly. "That's all?" she said dryly. "And I thought this was going to be hard." She leaned her head back, looking up at her partner with a sly grin. "However, we can't do it on an empty stomach."

Seven actually laughed slightly. "Of course not," she agreed, her eyes bright. "What shall we make to remedy that?"

"Hmm," Janeway said. "I'm thinking that something hearty is required. The sort of stuff that sticks to your ribs and gives one all sorts of energy to tackle a hard job."

"Gretchen's beef, corn and potato casserole will be perfect," Seven noted, pushing the captain gently off her lap with Janeway unsure how she had ended up edging onto it in the first place. "You replicate the necessary ingredients and set the table. The list is already in the pattern buffer under my code. I must change and then, I will prepare our meal."

"I will comply," Janeway replied obediently, with a wisp of a grin tossed Seven's way. The Borg merely rolled her eyes briefly and headed for the ensuite.

Seven of Nine carefully used her toe to nudge aside a worn workout suit as she sat down primly in the chair beneath the large windows lining Annika Hansen's quarters. The physicist was busying herself at the replicator, preparing the two women a mid-morning snack. Seven, of course, did not require such a break in her workday, but when Annika suggested it, the Borg was aware that it was actually a cover to get her alone to talk, so she acceded to the request. She did wish they had somewhere else to spend their break however. The clutter of her counterpart's living space made her somewhat uncomfortable, particularly since there was a part of her that appreciated the freedom of it.

It went against a lot of her internal discipline which had served her so well for so many years, so she attempted to ignore all of it.

"What did you think of my parents?" Annika asked as she brought over a tray containing two mugs of tea and turnovers of some kind.

Seven accepted the tea and gingerly selected one of the smaller pieces of the nut-and-sugar covered pastries. "They were very ... 'Human'," Seven responded. That was not what she had wanted to say, but the meeting with Magnus and Erin remained fresh in her mind, making it difficult for her to assign proper terms to how it went. Even talking it over with Kathryn had not clarified all the various emotions she felt, not entirely. She searched her mind for something that would convey everything that had occurred. "We spoke of many things, including my relationship with the captain."

"Yeah?" Annika replied with such careful casualness that Seven had to restrain a smile. She wondered if she were equally as transparent, then decided that since she never attempted to disguise what she was really feeling most of the time, it was not really an issue. "What did they have to say to that?"

"They seemed quite ... interested," Seven allowed, taking a cautious bite of the pastry. It was far too sweet for her liking and she sipped her tea quickly. "They wish to meet Kathryn, to 'get to know her better'. They invited us to dinner tonight."

Annika stared at her, a baffled look on her face. "You have to be kidding," she exclaimed.

"No," Seven responded, surprised by the accusation. "Erin made the invitation herself. I did not misinterpret it."

Annika blinked. "That's not what I meant," she said, taking a deep breath. "I'm just surprised that they would even entertain the notion." She paused. "They do know she's Starfleet, don't they?"

"Of course," Seven remarked. She quirked an eyebrow. "It did not seem significant to them."

"Oh, it's significant, all right," Annika said, her eyes narrowed. She appeared to be thinking furiously about something. "Did you accept?"

"Of course," Seven said. "I'm sure Kathryn will be pleased to meet them."

"You think?" Annika said, with such skepticism that Seven was forced to rethink her assumption.

"You do not agree?"

"Well, if she's anything like my Kathryn, she'll come up with a hundred reasons, all good ones, why she can't go," Annika said, taking a large bite from her danish, almost as if she were emphasizing the point. "In fact," she added in a spray of crumbs which wafted lightly down to join the other debris littering the sofa, "I bet she arranges a red alert or something just so she doesn't have to go."

Seven frowned, thinking that over. She had to admit that there had been times in the past when she had made plans only to have Janeway cancel them due to duty. The Borg had not thought anything of it at the time, but now she wondered if the incidents which forced the cancellations had been all that crucial? Indeed, how often was Janeway required to personally supervise the cleaning of the Jeffries tube by some of the Equinox crewmen, which was the reason she had given Seven the last time the young woman had wanted the couple to attend an art exhibit on a planet during a recent shore leave.

Seven's eyes narrowed. If Janeway was inventing reasons to get out of doing things, then the Borg would have to create a strategy to counter that.

"Seven?"

Blinking, the young woman looked over at her counterpart.

"Where'd you go?"

Since Seven had not moved from her seat, she realized that she had been so lost in thought, she had been ignoring Annika's conversation. A quick scan of her eidetic memory revealed that Annika had been implying that her parents probably had an ulterior motive for inviting Seven and Janeway for dinner.

"Do they never invite you to dinner?" Seven asked curiously.

"Uh, sure," Annika responded. "But I never go."

"Why not?"

Annika looked stubborn, much as Naomi or Kathryn did on occasion when they didn't want to admit to something, and Seven waited patiently, knowing it was the most useful tactic for dealing with that attitude.

"We just end up fighting," the physicist said finally. "It's not worth the effort."

"Ah," Seven remarked. "Perhaps you should accept now. Indeed, I think it would be in your best interests to contact them and let them know you would."

Annika took a deep breath. "I'm not sure," she said.

Seven considered that. "What would it take to make you 'sure'?" she asked curiously.

Frowning, Annika sipped her tea. "I don't know," she admitted. She paused. "I guess, maybe you're right. I should contact them and find out where things stand now. Avoiding it certainly doesn't seem to do much good."

Seven picked up a padd wedged in the crease of the cushions next to her. "Send them a memo asking if their invitation is still open," she insisted. "That way, you will not have to speak directly to them." If there was the slightest hint of exasperation in her tone, she did not believe that the other woman detected it.

Annika regarded the padd warily, as if it were something that was going to bite her, then reluctantly took it and keyed in the proper commands, linking the small padd into the main computer as she made the request.

"I hope you know what you're doing," she grumbled when she was finished.

It did not seem the sort of statement Seven could respond to with anything particularly reassuring so she changed the subject.

"Kathryn says that the war in your reality is going badly for the Federation."

Annika looked confused by the shift, but obligingly responded.

"I think ... we're losing," she admitted. "I don't know all the particulars, but from what I manage to get from my Kathryn, it's not good."

Seven knew that her partner had shared the information from the communiqué in confidence to her spouse and that Dr. Hansen was unaware of its contents. Seven was not adept at subtlety, though she was a great deal better at it than she used to be. This would require a certain amount of care, she decided.

"Have you considered the thought that the enhanced nanoprobes which were altered by my transition through realities could be of use in the war effort?" she asked delicately.

"It's not Species 8472 we're fighting here," Annika pointed out. "What good would they do, other than possibly assimilate what they hit and that wouldn't be good for the Federation either."

Seven was very careful here. "Not if their phase signature was left unaltered," she suggested.

Annika blinked. "You mean, so that they just assimilate technology into inactive lumps of metal?" she said. Her eyes grew thoughtful. "I don't know, Seven," she said. "How would we deliver them to the enemy? After all, they would turn our weapons into inert free-form sculptures, as well."

Seven decided that one more push might do the trick. "Perhaps if you created weapons with the same molecular signature," she said. "Utilize the replicator patterns of our phaser rifles and weapons array and recreate them in your universe, adapting them to your ships."

Annika stared at her. "Wow, Seven, what made you come up with that?" she said, startled and seemingly pleased by the suggestion. "That's a great idea. Why didn't I think of it?"

"It will not be easy to adapt such patterns to function within your universe," Seven reminded her counterpart.

"No, but once the theory is in place, then it's just a matter of making it work," Annika said, with the sort of casual conviction that only the intensely brilliant or the perpetually oblivious could manage when discussing such a technological advance. Her pale eyes grew distant as her keen intellect considered the problem, and Seven thought that perhaps she had 'managed' the conversation quite enough for the time being. Any more, and she risked revealing something that perhaps she shouldn't.

It was time to change the subject again and the Borg searched for the proper topic.

"I understand Captain Johnson is being released from sickbay this morning," she blurted.

Again, Annika looked somewhat confused, but gamely tried to keep up.

"She is. If she doesn't upset Dr. Pulaski too much, she should be out by 1100 hours."

"And how do you plan to welcome her home?" Seven asked. "You have yet to practice any of Gretchen's recipes that I have given you nor have you made any effort to recreate Phoebe's coffee."

Hansen looked appropriately guilty. "No, I haven't yet," she admitted. "But when the hell have we had time?"

"I do not understand," Seven said. "Explain."

"Explain?"

"You love Captain Johnson yet you refuse to make the effort to recreate those items which would bring her comfort and pleasure. Why?"

"It's not that I don't want to do things for Kathryn," Hansen said. "But I'm not a Traditionalist. I don't know the first thing about replicating raw proteins or maintaining a stock of coffee beans."

"Then you shall learn," Seven said firmly. "You have less than two hours before Captain Johnson is released from Sickbay. We must hurry."

"Couldn't you just whip something up and I could give it to her?" Hansen offered.

Seven tilted her head and looked at her counterpart. "Then it would be a gift to her from me and not from you."

"But I'm no good around replicators," the physicist tried again.

"You possess superior intelligence." Seven said, rising to her feet and skirting the pile of dirty laundry to reach the replicator. "You will learn."

"I'll make a deal with you," Hansen said, causing the Borg to look at her warily. It was the same tone B'Elanna used when she wanted Seven to help her with something that she knew Kathryn would not approve of. "I'll learn to make the coffee if you help me with the nanoprobe idea. Together we can figure it out in minutes, I'm sure."

"You will learn to make Phoebe's coffee and four of Gretchen's recipes," Seven countered, relieved that the request was what she had hoped to provide anyway. However, she still attempted to gain a better 'bargain', just as her observations of her partner while negotiating had taught her. "I assure you the meals will appeal to your Kathryn, and you will undoubtedly be rewarded by her for the 'gesture'."

"If you say so," Hansen replied, following the Borg to the replicator. "I'm not as convinced. My Kathryn has never raved over any meal."

"I am married," Seven pointed out.

"Good point," Hansen conceded, bowing to the Borg's superior intellect when it came to keeping the daughter of Gretchen Janeway happy.

Janeway watched closely as Johnson entered her quarters, making sure that the newly released captain was not trying to cover up any greater weakness or pain. It was a trick that she herself had done many times, though Seven was becoming quite good at penetrating such attempts at disguise, and she had no intention of allowing her counterpart to get away with it. Particularly since she was responsible for determining if Johnson was fit to resume command within the next couple of days.

Johnson was moving reasonably well, but still tired easily, Janeway noted. As soon as the door slid shut behind them, the captain sank down into the first chair she passed. Janeway decided not to notice that, merely taking a seat on the sofa across from her. She glanced around the quarters curiously, not really having had the opportunity when she and Seven had brought Annika here a few days earlier. She noted that it was not as immaculate as hers and still very much designed for one person. Various antiques and professionally selected items were scattered over the shelves and tables ... and of course, there was no kitchenette, just a replicator and a dining table.

There wasn't much in the way of personal items, however. No images of Annika or of Johnson's family, no small little knickknacks picked up as special reminders of places she had been. It reminded Janeway of how her quarters had looked in her early years in the Delta Quadrant. It had hurt to have images of family, knowing that she was so far away from them. Now, of course, even though they were still light years from the Federation, there were many prints and pictures on the walls of the quarters she shared with Seven, and they had acquired so many souvenirs, it was becoming difficult to find room for them. This cabin was positively spartan in comparison and she wondered what Johnson's excuse was for keeping images and personal mementos out of her living quarters.

"Some question about the decor?" Johnson noted dryly, having watched the other captain survey the room.

"You have nothing of yourself here," Janeway responded honestly. "No deeply personal items, no images of Annika, but even more surprising, none of Mom or Phoebe. As part of our contact with Starfleet, we now get personal communiqués as well, and Phoebe was able to send us prints of her latest work. We have three of her paintings on our walls ... two in the living area and one in the bedroom. It makes our quarters more of a 'home' rather than simply the place Seven and I sleep."

Johnson seemed to find it hard to look at Janeway directly, her eyes looking around as if she was seeing it for the first time, herself. "I guess ... it didn't seem important that this should be 'homey'."

Janeway blinked. "When Annika moves in, that will have to change," she said.

Johnson inhaled deeply, with exasperation. "I think you're getting way ahead of yourself," she said. "Besides, have you seen how she lives? She's a slob."

Janeway snorted. "So are we," she said. "To a certain extent. If you didn't have a lower deck officer in once a day to pick up, there would be coffee cups and padds all over the place."

"At least I pick up my clothes and make my own bed," Johnson objected.

"Starfleet training," Janeway noted evenly. "They wouldn't let us graduate until we knew how to make hospital corners and learned how dangerous it was to leave loose items lying around in a space ship."

Johnson didn't reply, merely crossing her arms over her chest and looking stubborn. Janeway wanted to smack her and wondered if she was equally as irritating when she was being contrary. She supposed it was a good thing that Seven was more likely to respond to her obstinant moments with devastating logic rather than a clout across the ear, or she wouldn't have her head attached to her shoulders anymore.

"Look, this isn't about getting your command back anymore," Janeway said, allowing the anger to grant more power to her voice. "This is about getting yourself back. And the only way to do that, is to allow yourself to accept how much you need Annika Hansen."

She stood up, pacing about the room, aware that Johnson was staring at her in astonishment. It was probably the lecturing tone, Janeway thought. She had never been on the other side of it, but she knew her crew found it to be a most disturbing experience. Maybe it would also get through to her other self.

"Right now you're just so damned determined to play the tough captain that you forget it's the woman inside that powers your ability to command," she said, her voice cold and implacable, her eyes sparking thunder grey. "When you don't support that woman, when you don't provide yourself with what you truly need ... love, happiness, and comfort ... the more fragile the captain becomes. You need a solid foundation to raise the strongest fortress. Without it, you're nothing more than a shell, and once the cracks start appearing, there's nothing to shore them up with."

She turned and glared at her counterpart, hands on her hips. "The reason you lost your command in the first place, was because you forgot that," she said. "You got it back when you allowed Annika into your heart, making you a stronger person. But the more you push her away, the weaker you become. It's not even about Annika, really, it's about you and the courage you have inside. If you can't be strong enough to love, how the hell can you be strong enough to lead!"

"I don't really understand what you're talking about," Johnson said, in that particularly mild tone that both women got when they were at their most obstinate.

Janeway rolled her eyes. "It's about who you are," she said. "And how you have to let Annika be a part of that, just as she has to let you be a part of who she is."

"You're talking dependence..." Johnson began.

"I'm talking about unity," Janeway retorted, cutting her off sharply. "The unity of the whole. It means that while we maintain our independence because we both require it as individuals, when the chips are down, Seven and I work as a single unit, whether the challenge is personal or professional. Right now, regardless of what the challenge is, you two come at it from totally different angles." She searched for the proper words, frustration filling her chest. "Maybe ... maybe it's a Borg thing. When Seven assimilated me, she took everything I was into her. But in exchange, she gave me everything she was. The memories and knowledge faded when we severed the link, but something stayed with us. It's a ... a ... a belief in the other that transcends everything else in our lives." She shook her head, realizing she had slid into a concept that she didn't fully comprehend herself, let alone have the skill needed to convey it in mere words.

"Are you suggesting that Annika and I get assimilated together?" Johnson asked silkily.

"I'm not saying that," Janeway said, aggravation edging her tone. "What I am saying is that you need to recognize what Annika can give you." She paused, paling a little, and when she continued, it was in a very low, intent voice. "When Daddy and Justin died, a certain part of us died as well. Somehow, Seven restored it to me. You need to let Annika restore it to you."

Johnson looked angry at the reference to death of Admiral Janeway. "You know, you're sounding slightly irrational here," she tried.

"Maybe," Janeway responded gently. "But maybe this isn't about being rational. Maybe it's about needing something that you can't even put the words to, and when you finally find it, you realize you don't ever want to live without it. Otherwise, the rest of your life, you'll look for it without ever really knowing what it is that you're looking for. I know that the only way I feel whole is with Seven by my side, sharing my life completely."

"Well, there's a scientific analysis," Johnson said sarcastically. "God, you sound more like Phoebe than me."

Janeway narrowed her eyes. "Maybe she always had the right idea," she said. She paused. "Let me ask you this ... who's happier overall?" She straightened her shoulders. "How happy was Dad?" she added pointedly.

Johnson glared at her. "He was a Starfleet Admiral," she defended.

"Who we would have given anything to have had around more when we were growing up. He was the absent parent, the one who had to ask Mom what we wanted for our birthdays if he even remembered them at all. Is that what you want? To be so wrapped up in your career that you sacrifice everything else, including happiness with Annika?" Janeway shook her head. "I know better. Whether you accept it or not, Annika Hansen holds your heart and you hers. You need to fix this before either of you can go on."

Johnson blinked at her, uncomprehendingly, then the door chime sounded and Janeway eyed her counterpart sternly.

"In any event, it looks like you just ran out of time," she said. "Now, you're going to have to decide whether you want to be only a starship captain, or if you want to be Captain Johnson, the whole person." She threw up her hands. "Look, all I want is for you to talk to the woman. Can you do that?"

Johnson looked frustrated as well.

"I'll try," she said and Janeway had to content herself with that as she went to answer the door.

"We have to hurry," Hansen said as she stepped out of the shower. "Dr. Pulaski released her twenty minutes ago."  Seven quirked an eyebrow and handed her a towel, looking slightly exasperated, but since the Borg had looked like that for the past two hours, Annika had pretty much learned to ignore it by now.

Taking one last stab at getting her cropped blond hair to look its best, she wondered to herself if Kathryn would prefer it longer the way Seven indicated her captain did. Of course, allowing it to grow long would mean having to pay more attention to it in terms of both time and care. Still, perhaps Seven was right, she mused while taking a final look in the mirror. Certainly everything else her counterpart had said in her economy of words and straight forward manner had made sense, and Annika was willing to do anything it took.

"It is not my fault you failed to prepare yourself prior to Captain Johnson's release," Seven said, her arms folded across her chest. "You knew what time the doctor planned on releasing her."

"Just help me finish getting ready," the physicist said, conceding the point. Naked, she padded out of the ensuite and walked over to her closet, staring pensively at the selection. Several long white lab coats, a set of dress whites and one spare uniform fought for space in her cramped closet. The two dresses that she did have were ones that Kathryn had seen her in before and simply would not do.

"Dammit, what am I thinking?" she asked aloud. "I have nothing to wear."

Seven rolled her eyes and left the bedroom where she went to the replicator, programming in a selection before returning with a shimmering dress made with an economy of material.

"You've got to be kidding," the scientist said when she saw what Seven had materialized. "Oh no. There is no way that will work on me. And it's the middle of the day, for crying out loud."

"It is patterned after the one that Kathryn gave to me for our anniversary," the Borg said, handing the dress to her twin. Certain that she was making a mistake, Annika slid the shimmering dress over her head and stepped into the low heeled shoes. Running her hands down the silky fabric, she realized why the program had not included matching underwear. There was simply no room between the dress and her body to wear any. Nervously she returned to the ensuite and stared at herself in the mirror.

Seven was right, the dress fit perfectly, the soft blue material clinging to her body in all the right places, the thin straps whisper soft on her shoulders, the neckline low enough to see just a hint of her breasts. Her back was exposed as was a good portion of her legs, the material stopping several centimeters above her knees. The normally conservative scientist had to admit that the dress was beautiful and in turn, made her feel much less like the clumsy brain who was all arms and legs, and much more as the woman she wanted to be. She added the perfume she knew to be Kathryn's favorite to her wrists and between her breasts, adding a drop for good measure behind each earlobe.

"Are you really sure this will work?" Hansen asked one last time as she followed Seven into the living area.

"Yes," Seven said firmly, heading for the door. "Was I not correct with regards to the memo to your parents? Did they not respond with their message as you would have hoped? Just do not forget what I have told you and ... good luck."

"Thank you, Seven," Hansen said, not watching the Borg leave as she returned to the ensuite. One last check of her hair, which no matter what she did would never look the way she wanted, and she was off to welcome Kathryn home ... and do whatever it took to get the woman she loved back.

However, when she requested admittance to the captain's quarters, she was disappointed to see Johnson sitting on the chair, dressed in her uniform trousers and t-shirt. The scientist felt extremely foolish, as if she were a teenager trying far too hard to attract the attention of some celebrity. Not even the look of stunned appreciation in the captain's eyes made her feel better, and her face felt hot as she entered, barely acknowledging Janeway's presence.

"If you ladies will excuse me," Janeway murmured, already on her way out. She cast one final, warning look at Johnson before the door hissed shut behind her.

"Obviously, I'm overdressed for this," Annika said, looking down at her feet.

"No, god no," Johnson muttered, rising from the chair and catching her lover's hands in her own. "I'm ... Annika, you look incredible." She hesitated, then drew her hand back uncertainly. "I'm sorry ... I'm a fool."

"No," the scientist said, looking up at the distress in her lover's face. She took a breath, trying to remember what Seven had told her about being honest. "Listen, we're probably both just trying too hard, thinking about it too much." She spread her hands out. "What we look like is irrelevant."

Johnson inhaled, obviously searching for something to say. "Um, the dinner I made is still here," she said, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the table which had been set a week earlier with candles, the fine china covered with a stasis field. "Or rather, the dinner I programmed into the replicator. Are you hungry? We might as well have it for lunch."

"Sure," Annika said, though the last thing she wanted to do was eat.

Her stomach churned unpleasantly, and as she sat down to the elegant place setting, she searched her mind, wishing she knew what to say. Johnson busied herself at the replicator, programming in the commands and bringing over two plates, piled high with food. After sitting down, she uncorked the bottle of wine and poured two glasses of the ruby liquid. Annika noted that the captain drained half her glass in the first swallow and immediately followed suit, hoping the illusion of control the alcohol provided, might get her through the next few moments. They began their meal, both occasionally trying to start conversations which began weakly and expired almost immediately, unable to be sustained in this atmosphere of extreme uncertainty and confusion. Annika thought the food was probably quite good but it tasted like ashes in her mouth and she had difficulty swallowing, each morsel seeming like a huge lump which pushed down her throat and lay in her stomach like an unexploded photon grenade.

"This shouldn't be this hard," Annika said finally, pushing her plate away and slumping back in her chair.

"I agree," Johnson said quietly. "When did it get so ... damned awkward?"

"When we stopped talking to each other. When we started treating each other as captain and lieutenant instead of Kathryn and Annika. It shouldn't hurt this much to be in love with you."

Johnson took another long swallow of her wine, watching as Hansen did the same. "No it shouldn't," she agreed. She paused, searching for the right thing to say. "I don't want to lose you," she said finally, in as simple terms as she could manage.

"Why?"

Johnson held back the tart rejoinder that initially came to the tip of her tongue, remembering Janeway's words. Throwing out a host of other answers, she said "Because I love you."

Hansen looked at her empty glass for a moment before answering. "It's been a long time since you've told me that," she noted. "I love you too."

Kathryn Johnson looked over the table at the woman she loved, the woman she knew without a doubt she would protect with everything she had and would give everything up for. All the petty fights and cold silences hurt with the pain of time lost that should have been spent loving each other. Was she beginning to finally comprehend what Janeway had been telling her? "When did I stop being so understanding of you and your needs?"

"Probably about the same time I stopped trying to tell you how I felt and instead, started being insubordinant to your command," Hansen said, feeling equal guilt over their arguments.

"So where do we go from here?"

"Seven suggested we try talking," Annika said. She shook her head somewhat helplessly. "But first, we're supposed to hold onto each other. She said the rest would take of itself."

"Janeway said the same thing." Johnson stood up and reached out, offering her hand.

Hansen swallowed hard, then accepted it, getting up from her chair. Together they moved over to the couch where it took only seconds for them to arrange themselves into a comfortable position, Hansen cradling the smaller woman in her arms. A word from Johnson lowered the illumination, providing a sort of coziness to the quarters, and for long moments, they remained where they were, getting used to the sensation of each other's bodies again. More importantly, they allowed the physical contact close some of the distance they felt between them, the silence stretching into one of serenity rather than trepidation. It was not easy for either of the strong willed women who were more apt to take control of a situation that allow it to unfold naturally, and both had to force themselves not to disturb this fragile peace which was slowly forming. They concentrated very hard on heartbeats and respiration, letting go of their emotional turmoil for the time being.

"I like this," Annika admitted finally, softly, letting her lips brush over the auburn hair. "I miss this. You don't let me just hold you very often."

"I know," Johnson said apologetically. "I ... it's hard for me to be vulnerable with another person, even someone I truly love. Can you understand that?" She leaned in and kissed the soft skin of Annika's neck. "I didn't realize I was being so neglectful," she said, remembering Janeway's suggestion. "I ... don't mean to make you feel like you don't matter. You do, more than anything."

"Then why does every last thing come before me?" Hansen asked shakily, tightening her grip around Johnson. She tried not to sound accusing but rather, questioning, a request for information. She didn't know if she succeeded. "You have no idea how much it hurts to sit here waiting for hours for you only to have you brush my feelings off by saying it's captain's business."

"Being a captain is a great responsibility," Johnson defended before catching herself. She inhaled slowly. "But you are right, there's no excuse for ignoring you or your feelings."

Surprised by the admission, Annika tilted Kathryn's head back so she could look into the soft grey eyes. "I know it's hard for you, Kathryn, but please let me in," she whispered, her fingers gently stroking the auburn hair. She searched for something to say, some way to bridge this distance between them. "I used to follow you to the caves and watch you." She swallowed. "You looked so lost, so lonely, and all I wanted to do was wrap my arms around you just like this."

Johnson allowed a small smile. "I wish I had known you were there. Many times I could have used just this."

"And if you knew I was following you, would you have let hold you? Or would you have just stuffed it deeper inside and found a new hiding place?"

"The latter, I believe," Johnson admitted. "I've always been a private person, Annika. I've never learned how to let anyone in, not really." She sighed. "I guess in many ways I'm just like my father, putting my career ahead of my personal life. I used work to keep Mark at bay and I'm using it to keep you away, as well." She took a deep breath, taking comfort in the scientist's gentle touch. "I don't want to do that anymore. I don't want to lose you, Annika. I can't." She wished she could speak to her lover the way Janeway apparently could to Seven, confiding all her doubts and fears, talking about the feelings that kept her up at night. "Please help me," she whispered.

"How?" the scientist implored. "I don't know how to help you, Kathryn. I wish I did." She cupped Johnson's chin with her fingers. "I wish I was smart enough to figure out what it would take to make you understand that it's okay to be a woman instead of a captain around me."

"Janeway says when the cabin doors close, her rank doesn't count anymore," Johnson revealed. "She said that's where she can relax and just be herself, knowing Seven is there for her." She pulled back slightly and searched soft blue eyes. "I want that with you," she whispered. "I know I try to control everything with us and use my rank to justify it."

"You do," Annika said, her voice carefully devoid of any anger. "Especially lately. It hurt and I resented it. When we were on Mars you would ask me for my input on a problem. We worked together to find a solution. Now you make me feel like a child who has to follow your bidding just because you're the captain. I kept forgiving you, thinking that when the mission was done or when we made it back to Earth that things would be like they were when we first became involved, but to me it seemed like you just took my forgiveness as an excuse to go ahead and do it again."

Johnson lifted her fingers and traced full lips. "I know that now. I am sorry and it's a mistake that I'll probably make again, but even if I don't deserve it, I need your patience and understanding."

"You do deserve it and you'll always have it," Hansen vowed. "I want us to be partners, Kathryn, not just two women who make love once in a while. I want ... I need more than that from you."

"You have to tell me what's going on too," Johnson said quietly. "I can't read your mind." She smiled. "Janeway says that Seven just assumed from the beginning that Kathryn was an imperfect, fallible Human who required precise instructions about everything, all the time. It used to drive my counterpart crazy, but because of it, both of them learned not to hold anything back. Seven just didn't have ... uh, the conditioning the rest of us do to hide our feelings."

"You and I were never very good at communication, were we?" Annika said ruefully.

"No, not very." She looked up into Hansen's eyes. "But I want that to change, Annika. I'm going to make mistakes, but I want us to be more open with each other."

"How do we start?"

"I think we already have," Johnson said, resting her head against Hansen's chest and delighting in the warmth and steady beat. "Do you want to talk about what's going on with you and your parents? I know I wasn't willing to listen before, but I am now."

Annika sighed. "You know, I don't want to because I think it's getting off us, but maybe we'd better," she admitted. "It might have a big effect on what happens in the near future. You see, they met with Seven yesterday afternoon. She told me about it this morning when we were ... when we were working on repairs."

There was so many things that needed to be repaired that Johnson did not question the excuse. "So how did it go?"

"Seven seemed to think it was a positive meeting. She said she found them to be intelligent, caring and very Human."

"Very, huh?" Kathryn allowed a small smile at that.

"Yes," Hansen said. "Count on Seven to find the good in everyone." She paused, idly stoking the soft auburn hair. "They've invited Seven back for dinner tonight."

"How do you feel about that?" Johnson asked, remembering more of her double's suggestions to open the lines of communication.

Annika shrugged. "I don't know. She was able to get through a couple of hours with them so I guess she'll be fine. Besides, Janeway will be there with her."

Kathryn picked her head up to look in her lover's eyes. "Your parents are having dinner with Seven and Janeway? I bet Janeway doesn't know about this."

"Seven hadn't had a chance to tell her when I ran into her," Annika said idly. "I'm just having a hard time believing that my parents are willing to sit down at the dinner table with any high-ranking Starfleet officer."

"I wouldn't get your hopes up that Janeway will actually go. In-laws are tricky to deal with, especially if they're anti-Starfleet and you happen to be a starship captain."

Annika regarded the older woman closely, her eyes searching her face.

"What if they invited you?" she asked softly. "Would you go?"

Johnson lowered her head, seeking the comfort of the physicist's neck. "If it would make you happy," she said, privately hoping such a thing would never come to pass. She had enough trouble dealing with her own mother, much less Erin Hansen, who despised just about everything Kathryn stood for.

"Good," Annika said, kissing the top of Johnson's head. "Dad invited us both over for dinner tomorrow night. I'll send a memo accepting for us."

"Oh god," Johnson said, feeling as if she'd been completely blind-sided, which in fact, she had.

"Oh, by the way, Seven and I were also talking about the war this morning, and she said something that I thought was quite interesting," Annika said, suspecting a change in subject might be a good idea, if the blank expression on Johnson's face was anything to go by. "What if we utilized the altered nanoprobes against the Dominion without modifying their quantum signature? That would turn all their equipment into junk."

Johnson's eyes widened. "What?" she exclaimed, then had to forcibly calm herself, her voice taking on an edge that the other woman wasn't entirely familiar with. "How would we make them work without turning our equipment into 'junk'?" she asked, carefully probing to find out if Annika had been informed of the communiqué.

Hansen shrugged. "Simple, we make copies of the other Voyager's replicator patterns for their rifles and weapons array, maintaining their quantum signature, then replicate them in our universe."

Johnson swallowed hard. "Just like that?"

"Why not?" Annika asked innocently.

"Why not, indeed," Johnson said, looking dazed. "Um ... I'm sure that would be of great use to Starfleet and the Federation. Put the entire science team on it if you need to."

"Don't have to," Annika informed her casually. "Seven and I worked out all the bugs this morning. All I have to do is start including the modifications into the repairs and send the specs to Starfleet Command as soon as we get back."

Johnson had, in the past, many opportunities to be overwhelmed by the young woman's innate brilliance, and she suspected that two Annikas put together were the most formidable brain trust imaginable, greater even than the special group of Humans who had been genetically altered through illegal accelerated critical neural pathway formation. This was yet another example and she closed her eyes, feeling overwhelmed at being exposed to such demonstrations of intelligence. Still, it would be unwise to display it too openly. She knew Annika was very sensitive to appearing 'different', so the captain did her best to take it in stride.

"Problem solved then," she said with studied casualness. She paused. "I wish all our problems were solved so easily." Never letting on that it was entirely possible that her lover had just won a war for the Federation.

"Emotion is a lot harder for me," Annika admitted, resting her chin on Johnson's head. "It always has been."

"For me, as well," Johnson said, voice growing unsteady as they were abruptly back on the topic. She paused, then seemed to make some kind of an internal decision. "I ... put things behind doors, Annika. So I don't have to think of them when the tough decisions have to be made ... when I have to be the captain. Sometimes it seems like I lose the key and can't get some of those doors back open again afterward."

Annika closed her eyes, fighting back the tears. Never had she witnessed her companion try so hard to explain what she was feeling.

"Maybe," she said huskily, "you just have to let me help you look for the key ... or help knock those doors down." The blonde drew back so that she was looking into the greyish eyes. "Kathryn, I know that you have to be captain. I just want..." She searched for the words. "I just want to be part of it somehow. It seems that when you keep me outside the command aspect, you end up keeping me out of the rest of your life, too."

Johnson opened her mouth to respond, hesitated, then closed it, but her expression was very troubled.

"I know," Annika said, frustration edging her tones as she tried to explain. "I don't mean that I would presume to know what it means to be a captain." She took a breath, trying it from another angle. "Seven doesn't give a damn about being in command of Voyager. As far as she's concerned, whatever Janeway does is fine with her. Yet, at the same time, she directly influences how Janeway commands, simply by being a part of her life. She told me that it was a great responsibility, and part of upholding it was to tell Janeway exactly what she thought whenever asked about a command situation, holding nothing back. Not all of it would be accurate or applicable or even relevant, nor does Janeway necessarily take into account everything she says, but it is Seven's belief that her duty to the captain is to offer her opinion, even when it is not that flattering to what Janeway had been doing up until that point. In fact, she told me that she is the one person on Voyager who can tell Janeway when she is going about things incorrectly. She never ever does it in public, and once Janeway makes a command decision, even if she still disagrees with it, she supports it completely. She trusts that Janeway is a good enough captain to make the right decision when it has to be made."

She swallowed hard. "I don't know how good I would be at offering my opinion to you," she said. "I'd probably be a lot more emotional in presenting it than Seven is, but I would do my best, Kathryn. What you need to do, however, is to respect me enough to ask in the first place. It's not that I want to tell you how to be a captain. That's not what I'm saying, at all. But I do want to feel that, as long as I'm serving on your ship, I'm considered capable of contributing to you as captain. Afterward, I swear I'll support you completely. But don't cut me out of the process you have in how you command, then get upset when I don't agree with it after the fact."

Johnson continued to look troubled, sitting up and putting some distance between her and the scientist. Annika forced herself not to react negatively to that, knowing that this concept was something she had to present as dispassionately as possible because it went to the very heart of what Johnson was.

"You know, Janeway said something that sounded sort of the same," Johnson allowed finally. She shook her head. "I feel like everyone else is getting this while I'm just flailing away in the dark." She fell silent again, her eyes lost in thought and Annika put a tight rein on her impatience, hoping that the older woman could work it out.

Keep quiet, she told herself firmly. Don't rush in with more words now, more emotion, trying to hammer it home. That will only make her feel on the defensive. Give her the time and space to figure it out.

Finally, Annika had a glimmering of what 'giving someone space' really was. It didn't mean removing her physical presence from her lover, and it certainly didn't mean refusing to talk to her at all. It meant granting her the peace to think about things, yet letting her know at the same time that she was there to listen while she worked it out. It was a revelation she hadn't expected, yet even as she considered it, she was aware that the silence between her and Johnson was comfortable, not strained ... merely the understanding that they both needed to think for the moment.

"Maybe ... maybe I just try to separate the parts of my life too much," Johnson offered finally. "I have a section for being captain, and a section for being a woman, and a section for being a daughter and a section for being a friend and so on."

For Johnson, who had never claimed to be the most introspective of people, this was a revelation indeed and Annika felt a sense of relief. She was even more pleased when it turned out the captain wasn't completely done.

"But all those things are interconnected in ways that maybe I haven't thought about before. What happens in one has to affect the other, but rather than recognize that and find a way to make them all work together, I tried even harder to push them apart." She glanced over at the young woman, her eyes soft. "I guess that means I tried pushing you away, too, not just personally, but professionally as well. I'm sorry."

Annika nodded briefly, not entirely trusting herself to speak yet. When she finally did, it was to try to offer her own perspective. "I think maybe I felt that in some way," she said. "So I started resenting those parts of you I wasn't allowed to touch, particularly the captain aspect." She paused. "And that's the last thing I should be resenting because being the captain is very much who you are. That's why you seemed so adrift at the Mars facility, and why you are so sure of yourself here on Voyager. In the meantime, perhaps I didn't do a particularly competent job of being a good science officer for you."

"You did a fine job," Johnson said sincerely, reaching over to take Annika's hand. "I'll grant that maybe you weren't the finest Starfleet officer ... but maybe what a Starfleet officer was before the war, isn't what one has to be now." She studied the hand cradled in her own, stroking the palm lightly with her fingertips which sent tingles up the young woman's arm. "God knows this vessel is operating with kids so green it's a wonder they don't produce chlorophyll, and people who retired from service before most of their crewmates were born. You'd think I'd be better adjusted to commanding such an eclectic crew after the Delta Quadrant."

"But you are," Annika pointed out. "After all, you still have your ship and most of your crew. There are a lot of captains right now that can't say that ... those who have survived, that is."

Johnson looked up. "Yes?" she said, her eyebrow raised. She thought about it. "Maybe you're right. Thank you." She said the last with great sincerity and Annika flushed, pleased. Perhaps she did have an influence over this woman after all, if her opinion meant that much.

She discovered that Johnson was regarding her with a very familiar expression, and she smiled. The captain returned her smile.

"You're exceptionally beautiful," she said quietly. "Particularly in that dress."

"Thank you," Annika said. "But maybe I wore it too soon." Her voice lowered. "After all, I would love for you to take it off me, right now, and we both know that's not going to happen. Pulaski warned me that you wouldn't be in any shape for anything ... uh, really physical for another day or so."

Johnson looked regretful. "She told me the same thing," she said. She wiggled, obviously testing that restriction, wincing as a particularly tender spot let itself be felt. "Unfortunately, I think she was right." She offered her companion a sheepish smile. "So what do we do?"

Annika shrugged. "Maybe we should just snuggle up together," she suggested. "We haven't had a lot of chances to do that in the time we've been lovers."

Johnson nodded. "You're right, we haven't," she admitted. She tilted her head. "I'm game if you are."

"Come here," Annika invited, and once more they arranged themselves on the couch, the young woman leaning back against the corner cushions as Johnson leaned against her. A word to the computer initiated a selection of soft music, and for the rest of the afternoon, they learned what it was like to spend time just being together.

Janeway entered her quarters, hoping for nothing more than a good meal, a nice long soak in the tub, and a certain astrometrics officer to cuddle up with in bed. She was therefore quite surprised to see no food being prepared and Seven dressed in a delicate sapphire dress that, while it did not cling as much as the Borg's biometric suits, certainly showed off her wife's most becoming curves. She stared with mingled astonishment and appreciation as Seven crossed the room to give her a welcome home kiss.

"You look ... beautiful," she said when the Borg released her from the gentle kiss.

"Thank you," Seven said. "Now you must go shower and change. You smell like conduit fluid."

"I was helping B'Elanna and Commander Scott replace some damaged gel packs after helping Johnson back to her quarters from Sickbay," Janeway said by explanation. "What's the occasion that we need to be dressed up?"

"We have been invited to dinner by the Hansens and are expected there at 1900 hours."

"Oh." Dinner with the Hansens? "Darling, are you sure they invited us and not just you?"

"Erin Hansen invited you as well," Seven said. "She said that since we are married that you should also come to dinner."

"Oh." At the moment, intelligent conversation seemed to escape the captain. "I, um ... guess I'd better get ready then."

"I thought perhaps we could bring a bottle of wine from Ginse with us? It is light and goes with a variety of foods."

Janeway, still in shock, merely nodded and headed for the ensuite, returning some minutes later in a clean uniform.

"You are not going to wear that," Seven said disapprovingly.

"But..."

"Your navy dress would be more appropriate."

Janeway wanted to argue the point that she would be far more comfortable wearing her uniform, but knew from the look in her wife's eyes that it would not be an option. It was probably just as well, she consoled herself as she returned to the bedroom and changed her clothes. As rabid as the Hansens were regarding Starfleet, perhaps showing up with four pips would not be the most prudent of ideas.

As she tried once again to make her hair look acceptable, Janeway wondered why there was never a good red alert when she needed one. Not too much, of course, just a dozen Kazon or Hirogen vessels would do ... maybe a Borg cube or two. Resigning herself to her fate, Janeway stepped out the bedroom, waited for Seven's approval of her appearance, then followed her wife meekly to the transporter room, where, within minutes, she would be on Voyager II and facing the genetic equivalent of her in-laws.

Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on how one looked at it, no red alerts were called, and Janeway found herself nervously walking down the corridor of deck nine, section four with Seven by her side.

"This is the Hansen's quarters," Seven said as they came to a stop in front of the door. "Kathryn, what is wrong?"

"Wrong? Nothing's wrong. Why do you ask?" Janeway said as she smoothed out imaginary wrinkles in her dress.

"Because your eyes are gray, you are exhibiting nervous behavior and your expression is more appropriate for an armed rescue mission than dinner with my ... genetic double's parents."

Janeway wisely did not point out Seven's verbal pause or the possible reasons behind it, but she did make the effort to look more relaxed, succeeding only marginally.

Seven took a deep breath and put the hand not holding the wine bottle on her wife's elbow, squeezing gently. "It will be all right," she assured. "You have not been so nervous since our wedding."

"In-laws, genetic doubles or not, will always make a person nervous," Janeway said, taking the bottle from the Borg and holding it with a grip strong enough to make her knuckles white.

"I will protect you," Seven said, placing a soft kiss on Janeway's forehead. "I love you."

"I love you too, darling," Kathryn said. Taking a deep breath to steel herself, she nodded and watched Seven press the door chime.

The door slid open, revealing Erin Hansen. "Hello again, Seven," the scientist said, favoring the Borg with a smile. The smile went from honest to forced when it reached Janeway. "Captain," the older woman said with the barest of nods, the ingrained disrespect coloring the tone, but clearly an effort was made to temper it.

"Please, call me Kathryn," Janeway said, holding out the bottle. "We thought this might go well with dinner."

"Thank you. Please come in." Erin said as she moved aside to let them enter.

That went well, Janeway thought, looking on the bright side. At least she didn't call me an imperialistic Starfleet war dog.

It took an effort of will not to let her command mask slip into place as they moved to the living area where Magnus stood, holding his arms out for a hug which Seven accepted. Janeway was not surprised when he gave her the same tolerant acceptance that his wife had only a minute earlier.

"Captain Johnson."

"Actually it's Janeway but please, call me Kathryn." She held her hand out, relieved when he took it in a firm, but pleasant shake.

"Janeway?"

The captain tilted her head. "In your reality, my counterpart returned to the Alpha Quadrant long before I did," she said. "And married the man I had been engaged to prior to being lost. In my reality, I received a communication from him a year later indicating that he had married someone else." She noted the glance exchanged between the couple and stifled a sigh. She knew she was talking too much, but couldn't seem to stop. "In truth, I couldn't be happier about it. Once that last personal tie to my old life was gone, I was able to consider ... other options," she concluded lamely.

She shot a look at Seven who returned it fondly, making it clear just what those other 'options' included.

"I see," Erin said. She motioned for them to take a seat on the sofa which Janeway and Seven did, sitting close together. Janeway was grateful for the long, length of her partner pressing warmly against her side, needing the comfort implicit within it. Erin sat the chair while her husband perched on the arm beside her, putting his arm around her shoulders.

There was a bit of an awkward pause, one Janeway really didn't know how to break. Most of her diplomatic training seemed to have abandoned her and she found herself clutching at Seven, hoping it was unnoticeable to the other couple. Seven seemed to detect her panic and reached over, gently taking her hand in her own, the Borg mesh a definite comfort to the Starfleet captain who squeezed it tightly, unmindful of the metal digging into her skin.

"Kathryn and I have been discussing the Dominion war," Seven said, without preamble, seemingly oblivious to the astounded look her partner cast her way. "In our reality, it has been won by the Federation. In yours, it appears to be intensifying, and not to the benefit of the Alpha Quadrant."

"Is military maneuvering a regular topic of conversation between you?" Magnus asked with deceptive mildness.

Janeway eyed him, suddenly aware of him being a little more dangerous than his wife. Erin was openly disdainful while Magnus covered his up with obfuscation. That made him appear more approachable than his wife, yet, Janeway knew without a doubt, that he would actually be harder to reach than his spouse.

Seven tilted her head, offering him her bland expression. "Tactics and strategy are an element of our everyday life," she explained with that devastating matter-of-factness. "Certainly, it is a knowledge that I can offer her after having been a member of the Collective, and fortunately, I have the military planning of over ten thousand species to draw upon, which enable our ship to travel with far more safety through the Delta Quadrant."

The couple blinked, surprised. Obviously they had been thinking of it as Janeway coaching the young woman in military strategy, rather than the other way around.

"Safety, of course, is of primary importance to us," Seven went on, as if she didn't notice the couple's bemusement. "Our vessel has many children on board. It is imperative that we protect them before all else."

Janeway winced internally, wondering if that was a needle that her partner needed to stick in or if Seven even realized what the impact of that last statement might be.

"I see," Erin said with apparent difficulty. Apparently the impact was that of guilt, Janeway thought to herself. Maybe Seven knew what she was doing, after all.

"I thought it was the Galaxy-class starships that carried children," Magnus said.

"They do, but being lost in the Delta Quadrant for so long turned our Voyager into a generational ship," the captain said, not wanting to go into detail about the B'Rethna and the virus which rendered the reproductive control devices inoperative.

"We are waiting until we return to the Alpha Quadrant to have our own children," Seven said. She paused. "I am grateful that, in our reality, the Federation and Starfleet won the war so decisively. I would not wish to have my children face existence under the Dominion. I anticipate offering the entire store of information I accumulated as a Borg in order to aid Starfleet in the future protection of their civilians. It will be my duty ... indeed, my responsibility ... as a fully functioning member of that society."

Janeway forced herself not to gape stupidly at her partner, wondering when the Borg had acquired this skill of pounding a point home without actually making it seem like she was doing such a thing. It had to be the lack of overt voice inflection and primarily impassive features, she decided. The Hansens took the young woman's words at face value, seeming to flinch involuntarily at each one, but never once suspecting her of having an ulterior motive behind them.

Thank god she's on our side, she thought fervently. However, it was entirely possible that Seven was being too intent on driving the point home, and a diverting of attention might be in order. Keep the Hansens off balance, as it were.

"Annika will make a wonderful mother," Janeway said, wondering why no one else seemed to be affected by the heat of the room. "We have an Irish Setter named Jake and she has him trained wonderfully."

"He is much easier to train than Kathryn," Seven said, drawing first a startled look from the trio, then a short burst of laughter from the Hansens. The Borg smiled, clearly understanding that the joke was needed to ease some of the tension.

"I'm sure he is," Erin said, relaxing slightly against the supportive arm around her. "Being stubborn seems to be a trait of Starfleet."

"Actually it's a requirement," Janeway said smoothly, ignoring the tone of Mrs. Hansen's voice.

"Perhaps we should sit down for dinner now," Magnus suggested, much to everyone's agreement since full mouths would not have to speak and possibly be the spark to set off the plasma charging the room.

Seven and Kathryn sat opposite each other at the round table. While Janeway appreciated being able to see her wife, it also meant that Magnus and Erin were sitting on either side of her. Nothing like being flanked from both sides, she thought wryly.

"It smells wonderful," she offered, accepting the slight nod from Erin.

"I understand Seven does most of the cooking for you?" the older woman said.

"It is far more efficient if Kathryn does not help," the Borg said easily, answering for the captain before Janeway could even open her mouth. Apparently, she was quite determined to protect her spouse, just as she had promised in the corridor. "And I find the challenge of culinary creations to be quite rewarding and relaxing."

"Cooking is just one of her many talents," Janeway added gamely, pleased when she saw the soft smile directed at her by Seven.

"Yes, she is a very special girl," Magnus said. "So, assuming the war is over by the time you return to your Alpha Quadrant, what are your plans?"

Pausing, the fork halfway to her mouth, Janeway dared to look into his eyes, seeing the deeper meaning behind the inquisitive expression. "Our plans are to go to Indiana and stay with my mother for a brief time until we can arrange to have our home built."

"You have no home of your own?"

"I did in San Francisco, but I'm sure the family got rid of it when Voyager was declared officially lost." Janeway brought the fork to her mouth and chewed slowly, buying herself some time to formulate her thoughts. "It's just as well, I suppose," she said. "I want our children to be raised in Indiana like I was, surrounded by the earth and sky with an endless yard to play in. Many people living in the agricultural community there have children, so ours will have friends to play with."

"I see," Erin said. "You intend to leave Seven out in the middle of a Traditionalist state, pregnant and dealing with your children, while you go off on your starship."

Janeway, whose mouth was full, could only shake her head at the assumption.

"That is incorrect," Seven said, staring at the elder Hansen as if she were completely foolish. In fact, it was rather like the look she accorded Harry Kim or Tom Paris on occasion, and Janeway, known for the power of her own looks, was rather impressed. "I cannot become pregnant and Kathryn will require my presence while she is bearing our children. It would be irresponsible for me to leave her alone at such a time, and after our children are born, we shall go with her, whenever she has ship duty."

Janeway watched the play of emotions on the faces of the Hansens. Wisely, neither of them chose to ask why Seven was unable to bear children. The captain wondered if they were starting to get the idea who really ran things in the marriage. Certainly, it had been a hard enough lesson for her to learn in the past year.

"I don't intend to be the kind of parent that leaves my family behind," she said mildly. "I love Annika and I married her because I want to spend the rest of my life with her, not because I needed someone to make dinner or raise a family."

"It takes a great deal of pull to obtain property in an agricultural park," Magnus said, eyeing her oddly. "Earth's government is very hesitant about allowing too much expansion on such designated land." He said it with such conviction that Janeway wondered if he was speaking from some kind of experience. Perhaps he had tried to acquire such permission at some point?

"I guess it's a good thing I was born there," Janeway countered smoothly. "Natives always have preference when settling, and truthfully, the plots cut from the family property had already been arranged by my father for both my sister and me before he died."

"How many children do you plan to have?" he asked. Janeway hadn't felt so badgered since the time she had been questioned by Cardassians during a botched surveillance mission several years ago.

"Two," she replied.

"Of each," Seven piped up.

Janeway swallowed hard. "We haven't completely decided that yet." She noted Erin looked positively aghast at the thought of bearing four children. "Doctor?"

"Darling?" Magnus asked, reaching across the table for his wife's hand. Erin gave a small smile and looked at Seven.

"Have you ever seen a woman giving birth?" she asked the Borg.

"Yes," Seven replied placidly, apparently oblivious of the edge in the woman's tone. "Kathryn and I were trapped on the turbolift with Megan Delaney when she gave birth to her son."

"Do you really wish to put Kathryn through that four times?"

"Certainly not," the young woman replied. She paused. "She shall have two sets of twins."

"Oh god," Janeway said, reaching for her wine glass. Erin shot her a look, but to the captain's surprise, it held no disdain or reproach, but what actually looked like sympathy.

"Well, as Kathryn said, you still have to talk about it some more."

"You had only one child," Seven noted, finally understanding that there was some objection here. "You feel that four children are too many." She thought about it for a moment. "Naomi is six years old. She has no one her own age to play with. The nine babies will always have someone their own age to be a companion. I believe I do not wish for my child to be ... lonely. I believe Kathryn benefitted by having her younger sister around when she was growing up."

"I see," Erin said. "But then two would suffice."

Seven raised an eyebrow. "I would prefer eight," she explained blandly. "I am resigned to four."

Janeway drained the rest of her wine and mutely held her glass out to Magnus who, just as wordlessly, filled it to the brim.

The conversation for the rest of dinner was kept to more uncomplicated topics, changing it immediately whenever anyone got too close to things they really shouldn't discuss at this particular juncture. Still, Janeway was relieved when the main course finally ended and she helped Erin clear the table and serve dessert. Seven favored her with an approving glance, and the captain wondered how much longer the evening was supposed to last. If she had known ahead of time what was going on, she would have prepared a failsafe with Chakotay or Tuvok; a scheduled call back to her ship where she was 'urgently needed'. She frowned as she carried the saucers of cheesecake back to the table. It wasn't like Seven to spring things on her unannounced ... not things like this. She shot a look at her partner who seemed totally oblivious to the captain's sudden suspicion.

"Seven," Magnus said, gesturing toward the other side of the room where two workstations were situated, "I've been working on some of the Borg cranial transmission integers for years, but the equations keep giving me a fatal loop error. Would you care to take a look at it while we have dessert?"

"Of course," Seven said. "I would be most interested."

"Good." He smiled and rose from his chair, taking his saucer of cheesecake with him. "I have everything right over here."

Janeway looked uneasily at her spouse as the Borg left the dinner table, bearing her own dessert as she went across the room with Magnus. That left the captain alone with Erin, and she was very conscious suddenly of what that might portend.

"So," the older woman said, not wasting any time. "You're about twenty years older than Seven, aren't you?"

Janeway wondered how angry Seven would be if she chose that moment to run screaming from the room. Somehow, she doubted that her partner would be particularly impressed.

"Yes," she said carefully. "Fortunately, Seven doesn't hold it against me." She decided a good defense was best served by having a good offense and fixed the woman with a laser gaze. "Do you?"

That seemed to catch Erin off guard. "Uh ... perhaps it's not really my place..."

"You're right," Janeway said mildly. "It's not. But since you brought it up, what's your point? Do you think I'm somehow taking advantage of her?"

Erin recovered quickly. "Are you?" she returned the volley.

Janeway glanced over at the young Borg, a muscle jumping in her jaw. She wondered what would be the best approach to this. Honesty perhaps?

"I ... will say it's come up as a topic between us on a few occasions," she admitted. "Seven dismisses my irrational fears about it. She says that after spending eighteen years as a drone, with the experiences of over 10,000 species in her head, I actually lack enough life experience to match her." She smiled dryly. "The truth is, to harbor such thoughts disrespects her. It disrespects this incredible being that she is and will become. She has a wisdom that transcends her intellect, which, as you know, is formidable indeed. To suggest that she doesn't know what she wants, that she is somehow incapable of understanding what it means to love and be loved in return, would be an insult. Certainly, she has made it clear that she considers it as such." She shook her head. "I suppose you worry that Johnson is too old for Annika. Trust me, Annika's running circles around the woman."

It was a measure of her continued disconcertion in having to meet her in-laws that it took a few moments to realize what she had let slip. Aghast, Janeway watched the changing expression on Erin's face at her imprudent words, remembering, far too late, that the elder Hansens had no clue about their daughter's relationship with Johnson.

Or perhaps they did know because beyond a mild compressing of the scientist's lips, it wasn't as if she was exhibiting a whole lot of shock.

"We suspected as much," Erin revealed tightly. "And yes, it is part of my concern. But primarily I am worried that Annika is allowing herself to be pulled into Johnson's world, to the point where she's losing herself."

In for a penny, in for a pound, Janeway thought ruefully.

"Maybe she's actually finding herself," she offered. "Maybe falling in love has given a part of herself back to her that she never even knew was missing." She smiled fondly at Seven who chose that particular instant to glance up, her pale eyes warming perceptibly when they met Janeway's. She offered the captain a dazzling smile, then returned to her discussion with Magnus who was not unaware of the exchange, looking quizzically at Seven, then back to Janeway before refocusing on the Borg. "I know I did," the captain added fervently.

Erin had also witnessed the subtle exchange and it seemed her expression had softened slightly.

"I can see you truly love each other," she allowed grudgingly.

"Completely," Janeway said. "More importantly, we believe in each other. That's all we or anyone else needs."

"I'll admit we haven't taken the time to get to know Captain Johnson," Erin allowed, her eyes troubled and distant. "Magnus invited Annika and her for dinner tomorrow. I was surprised when they accepted."

"Maybe you should consider this a dry run," Janeway noted with a hint of humor.

Erin paused, looked at her, then dipped her head as humor colored her own eyes. "Perhaps I should," she allowed.

Their conversation stopped as Magnus and Seven approached with their empty plates. He set his down on the table. "I need to get something out of the bedroom," he said, looking directly at Janeway. "Captain, could you help me?"

"Um, yes, of course," she replied, rising to her feet and giving Seven a nervous look. No one could accuse any of the Hansens of being subtle, she thought dismally as she followed him. Sure enough, once the door to the bedroom closed, Magnus crossed to the far side and removed a large crystal off the shelf, his body language stiff and ominous. But when he started to speak, it was to approach the topic obliquely.

"We made a stop on Ryna III when Annika was four. She found this crystal near the mouth of a cave and was absolutely fascinated by the way the light refracted through it. Used to keep it on the table next to her bed." Janeway stared at his back, trying to devine his intentions from his words. He turned to face her, a bleak expression in his face, his gaze dark and intent, much as his daughter's counterpart could be when she was particularly serious about something. "I know that, technically, Seven isn't my daughter but that doesn't change how I feel about her. I love that young woman as much as if I raised her myself, and you can't know how it feels to know that in some universe I was selfish enough to allow my family to become assimilated by the Borg." His hand tightened on the crystal. "She's been through so much. I..." He faltered, dropping his eyes. "I guess I'm being the overprotective parent. I just don't want her to be hurt."

"Neither do I," Janeway said soberly. "Dr. Hansen, you have to understand that I love Seven with all my heart. I married her not just while we're in the Delta Quadrant, but forever. I would give up everything I have to be with her."

"Even Starfleet?" he challenged.

Janeway never missed a beat, nodding immediately. "Everything. Nothing is more important to me than being with her. I won't lie, Starfleet has been an important part of my life since I was very young and still is. I am proud to wear the uniform. But if Starfleet Command can't come up with a starship posting where she can be with me, then I'll either take an administrative position on Earth or resign my commission entirely. We will not be separated." She met his gaze, letting him see the sincerity in her eyes. He nodded and put the crystal back on the shelf.

"I never thought I would have a daughter-in-law," he said. "Now it looks like I might have two." He took a deep breath. "I can't say that I'm happy about you being in Starfleet."

She took a breath, a muscle jumping in her jaw. "I can't know what powers your distrust of Starfleet, nor certainly, could I ever expect to understand it, but I will ask you if you can be happy knowing that Seven is happy?" she asked. "And Annika?"

"I remember when she was born," he said, his eyes distant. "There she was, this little bald bundle of arms and legs wriggling about and looking at me with those big blue eyes of hers. All I ever wanted was for her to be happy." He sighed and looked at Janeway. "I guess if that means traveling throughout the galaxy with a Starfleet captain well ... I suppose there are worse things she could do." He took a step forward and gave what could only be described as a concerned father's glare. "But I will promise you this, do anything to hurt her and I won't care what universe you're in."

Janeway laughed, obviously surprising him. "I'm sorry, sir," she said, holding up her hand in apology. "My mother absolutely adores Seven, as does anyone else who gets the chance to truly know her, including my Klingon engineer. If I did anything to deliberately hurt her, what few pieces that might be left of me by the time Mom and Seven's friends got finished, would simply not be worth your time."

He frowned, seeming to consider that, then nodded grudgingly. "All right," he allowed.

"So," Janeway asked, glancing around. "What do you intend to 'show me'?" She raised an eyebrow, regarding him evenly. "I assure you, Seven will ask."

He looked momentarily baffled, then brightened as he seized a small item off the shelf. "Do you think she'd like this?" he asked, holding it out bashfully. "I picked it up in my travels, but Erin's never really liked it. It would make sense if I brought you in here to present you with a ... belated gift of some kind."

Janeway eyed it sardonically. It was one of the ugliest pieces of sculpture produced in the known universe ... maybe in all the universes.

"She'll adore it," she told him dryly, with complete honesty.

He looked pleased and handed it to her, much to her dismay. It gave her a headache just to look at it. Handling it was much worse, and she wondered what possible gene encoding provided such eclectic taste in artwork. Certainly, it was clear where Seven had acquired such a trait.

Holding it carefully away from her body, she followed the man out of the bedroom and forced a bright smile at her partner who was looking at her with the faintest of concern in her eyes. "Look, darling," she said, holding the squat sculpture out. "Dr. Hansen gave it to us as a belated anniversary present."

Seven's eyes lit up as she took it from the captain, examining it with every evidence of complete pleasure. Erin looked at her husband.

"Oh, Magnus," she muttered with exasperation, then shot a look at Janeway with what seemed sympathy. Janeway shrugged lightly.

"It will go with the rest of the ... 'artwork' Seven has collected for display in our quarters," she assured her, a tone of absolute resignation in her voice.

There was definite sympathy in Erin's gaze after that revelation.

Captain Johnson woke automatically two hours before the start of morning watch, pleased when her muscles seemed free of the soreness of the day before. She had slept well ... so well in fact, that she wondered how much of it had to do with being able to spend the afternoon with her lover, simply talking and being together. Certainly, it had been different to kiss Annika good-bye when the young woman returned to her own quarters  without the sense of recrimination and tension that so many of their partings recently seemed to include. Smiling faintly, she rolled out of bed and headed for the ensuite before remembering that she was still relieved of command. For a moment she froze, completely unsure of what to do, then wandered uncertainly out into the living area. To her surprise, there was a light on her work station, indicating a message. It was from her counterpart who looked very sober and a little weary, obviously having transmitted her message very late the night before.

"I've recommended that your command be restored and Dr. Pulaski has put it in place," Janeway said. "In fact, with a little fudging, it's not even going into the official logs though I really don't want to know how she managed that."

She hesitated, then looked very serious.

"I don't know if you managed to work anything out with Annika, but I hope to hell you have because believe me, you're not worth anything as a captain when you're not worth anything as a person. At this point, however, it's probably out of my hands if it ever was something I could truly affect in any way. I'm going to grant you some space today. Lt. Torres will be in command of the repair teams."

She grinned crookedly.

"Seven and I have some things on our own ship that need our immediate attention, and unless you really need me over there, let's plan to get together tomorrow afternoon. By the way, good luck tonight with your future in-laws. I hope I softened them up for you. Welcome back, Captain."

Johnson stared at the image as it faded, then the sound of the admittance chime made her turn around. Annika was at the door, dressed in her science officer uniform.

"Hey," she said softly. "I heard you were back on duty so I thought I would stop by and have breakfast with you. I knew you'd be awake."

Johnson blinked. "That was ... thoughtful of you," she said. It was obvious that the young woman was trying very hard and she felt a warmth spread through her. She crossed the room and pulled Annika into her arms for a gentle kiss before motioning vaguely in the direction of the ensuite. "I need to shower and get dressed."

"Of course," Annika said. She grinned impishly and tightened her hold, refusing to let the captain out of her arms. "Have I ever told you how sexy you look in those Starfleet issue pyjamas?"

Johnson laughed. "I always feel five years old in them," she admitted. "The only thing missing is feet in them."

"That would be unbelievably adorable," the scientist noted before stealing one more kiss and releasing her hold. "Now you go get ready."

Johnson grinned and went to the ensuite where she showered quickly and pulled on a newly replicated uniform. She felt very complete as she fastened the tunic up the front, making sure the pips were firmly in place, before she returned to the living area. To her surprise, Annika had the table set while the amazing smell of breakfast permeated the room.

"You shouldn't start your day without a good meal," Annika said, a trifle self-consciously as she brought two plates containing western omelets, bacon, home fries and toast over to the table.

Astounded, Johnson sat down and began to tuck in, feeling suddenly ravenous. "This is terrific," she complimented, eyeing the woman sitting across from her. "When did you learn to cook?"

Annika grinned faintly. "Seven's been sharing a few tricks with me," she responded honestly. "It's not just a matter of preparing meals from raw ingredients, it's also about programming the replicator to add various spices and combining elements to create dishes beyond the standard matrix patterns. I may never be able to accomplish the first," she added, a slight warning in her tone, "but reprogramming a replicator is right up my alley. It's just going to take time for me to understand which additions need to go where." She raised an eyebrow. "I trust you won't mind acting as my test subject while I do."

Johnson offered her a smile. "I would love to," she said sincerely.

Annika snorted. "I'll remind you of that the first time it tastes like an old boot rather than what I was aiming for," she said.

"Maybe mother---," Johnson began, stopped, then finished in a much gentler tone. "Maybe you could talk to Mom, sometime. She seems to have a knack for that sort of thing."

"I will," Annika replied, seeming not to notice the pause.

After breakfast, a bemused Johnson was assisted in the clean up by Annika before the scientist gave her a sweet kiss good-bye and headed off to help in engineering for the day. The captain had a great deal to think about as she took the turbolift to the bridge where her Commander Tuvok, showing a brief flash of Vulcanoid relief ... which was to say, practically none at all beyond a raised eyebrow ... welcomed her back to duty. The shift went by swiftly as Johnson caught up on all her tasks which had slid while she had been away, and she was fairly satisfied with her day's performance when she finally left the ready room. She had promised Pulaski that she would log off promptly at 1600 hours, and knowing that the CMO was more than prepared to utilize the prerogative of relieving her of command when required, she was keenly aware that there were certain promises she just had to keep.

She was startled to discover Annika waiting for her in the captain's quarters.

"I hope you don't mind?" Annika asked as Johnson entered uncertainly, blinking at the young woman who was dressed casually in a simple, yet elegant blouse and pants, looking good enough to eat herself. "I just wanted to be here when you got here. I thought we could spend some time together before we go to dinner with my parents."

"Not at all," the captain said honestly. "It's ... it's rather nice to find you waiting here for me."

Annika flashed her a smile. "I'm glad," she said. "Why don't you take a shower and relax a bit before dinner." She paused. "You may be required to act as a test subject sooner than you expected if they throw us out and we have to come back here to eat."

Johnson laughed, and did as she was asked, surprised at how it felt to slip out of her uniform ... almost as good as it had felt to put it on that morning. Was it possible that she was actually learning something here, despite herself? She carefully did not think about the upcoming dinner with the potential in-laws. One thing at a time, she reminded herself. What was really important here was Annika and she finding themselves. The rest would just have to work itself out.

The slender blonde was waiting on the couch, two glasses of wine on the coffee table. Johnson, now in a simple dress pulled out from her closet which had not been worn in a long time, didn't hesitate in joining the young woman. She graciously accepted the glass Annika handed her.

"To new beginnings," Annika said softly, raising her drink.

"And where they can lead," Johnson agreed, clinking the crystal wineglass gently against hers. She sipped the wine, pleased at its bouquet. Obviously it was not from the replicator.

"I, ah ... I really enjoyed yesterday," Johnson admitted.

"I did too," Annika said, regarding her quietly. "I think we should do more of that."

"I think so too," the captain said.

"Kathryn, I don't want to push too hard here," the scientist continued in a low voice. "Let me know if I do. I don't want to drive you away. I don't want to lose you." She paused. "I also know I have a short temper and I act like a spoiled child sometimes and I disappoint you when I argue with you in front of the crew, but tonight, I want you to know that I'm one hundred percent with you. We're a team and nothing, not even my parents, can defeat that."

She reached out for Kathryn's hand, holding it tightly, almost as if she were afraid that any second she would say the wrong thing and Johnson would shut down emotionally as she had done so many times before. The captain's heart ached as she realized how careful she had made the young woman around her, how that bright, outgoing personality had been stifled somewhat by her pulling away from it. What had she been so afraid of?

"I appreciate that, darling," she said huskily. "I'm not worried as long as you're with me." Annika nodded, looking relieved and Johnson squeezed her hand. "I promise. I will be on my absolute best behavior tonight."

"They'll adore you," Annika said, and Johnson laughed because the young woman didn't sound entirely convinced. Annika laughed as well, blushing faintly. "Maybe if we avoid the topics of Starfleet and the war as much as possible, that will help," she added ruefully.

"I'll do my best," Johnson said. "Perhaps we're worrying for nothing. After all, they invited us, remember?" She took a deep breath as her eyes moved over the walls, realizing how much Janeway had been correct in her assessment of her quarters, how bleak and impersonal they seemed. She placed her glass carefully on the table, tightening her hold of the young woman's hand, realizing she didn't want to put this off any longer. "Darling, can we talk about something else for a moment?"

"Of course," Annika responded.

"I want us to have a home, Annika," Johnson began. Remembering Janeway's words, the captain turned to look directly into the eyes that said so much about faith and trust and fear. "Live with me," she asked. "I want you to be the last thing I see before I go to sleep and the first thing I see when I wake up. I want to leave the Bridge at 1600 hours and know that I'm coming home to you every night. I want to sit on this couch with you after dinner and listen to how your day went and then lie in your arms and tell you mine." Johnson took a deep breath. "I know I'm probably not saying this right, and that god knows, I should have asked you long before now, but please Annika..." Tears welled up unbidden to her eyes but she fought the automatic response to wipe them away. "Stay with me."

"Shh," Hansen whispered, cupping Johnson's cheek with her palm and wiping away an errant tear with her thumb. "I will. I want to live with you, too. Nothing would make me happier."

Johnson swallowed, feeling much better than she had in far too long. "What about your parents?" she added, suddenly remembering what their immediate plans were. "They're bound to find out you're living in the captain's quarters. We'll have to tell them about us ... tonight."

"I know," Hansen said pensively. "I just wish it could be done via a deep space communication instead." She shook her head and then smiled, pale eyes searching the captain's face as she reached up to lay her fingertips lightly on Johnson's cheek. "Speaking of communications, thank you for the note you sent me in engineering today. Another tip from Janeway?"

"She merely pointed out that just because I'm constantly thinking of you doesn't mean you're aware of that," Johnson admitted bashfully. "I figured you would collapse to the floor if I started sending you flowers in engineering so a private note seemed best."

"I haven't given you flowers in a long time," Annika noted remorsefully.

"Mmm, well your reply was most thoughtful as well." She pulled Annika's hand to her lips and kissed the knuckles. "Was the poem a tip from Seven? I enjoyed finding it on my console in the ready room this morning."

"You have your sources, I have mine," Hansen said, revealing nothing and everything. "But it seemed to describe us perfectly and I'm glad you liked it."

"I love it," Johnson corrected. "And I love you, more than I could possibly show you."

Hansen grew quiet, her eyes serious as she looked at the person who held her fragile heart. "I don't feel very loved," she said in a quiet whisper, afraid of ruining the moment. "I haven't felt loved in a long time."

Johnson used her hands to cup Hansen's cheeks, bringing her face closer. "Then, what can I do, right here ... right now ... to show you how I feel?"

"Love me," Annika said, lightly trailing her fingertips over Johnson's collarbone. "Take me to your bed and make love to me."

Johnson's breath caught in her throat. "What about your parents?" Not giving a damn at all.

"They can wait," the scientist whispered. "Besides, we have plenty of time. I do know that if I'm going to tell them that you and I are more than just friends, I need to be properly fortified."

"As Seven would say, 'acceptable'," Johnson murmured, closing the distance between them and brushing her lips over Annika's. "I love you so much." She kissed her way along the scientist's jaw while her fingers worked the buttons on Hansen's blouse.

"W-wait," Annika gasped as the front catch of her bra was released, obviously just remembering the medical restrictions placed on the captain. "Should you be ... oh ... doing this?"

Johnson smiled and lowered her lips to the warm valley between her lover's breasts. "I feel fine," she insisted, ignoring the twinges and aches her body sent up in protest. Her tongue traced the soft swell until her lips could close over a long neglected nipple.

"Oh, god," Annika groaned, arching up into the loving touch. "Kathryn ... oh, my Kathryn."

"Yes," Johnson agreed, leaving the inviting breasts to reclaim her lover's mouth in a searing kiss. "Your Kathryn ... always," she promised when their lips parted. Standing, she held her hand out. "Come with me," she whispered.

"I certainly hope so," Hansen teased as she got to her feet. Kathryn pulled her close, burying her face into the soft skin of Annika's neck.

"I guarantee it," the captain said dryly, walking backwards as she tugged the more than willing scientist into the bedroom. Clothes carefully picked out for the upcoming dinner were urgently removed and carelessly tossed aside before the two women fell to the bed together, kissing fervently as their hands moved over each other, relearning the only bodies they ever wanted to touch. Johnson found herself lying on her back, six feet of stunning woman sliding atop her body. Raising her knee, Kathryn nudged the long legs to separate until she felt the hot moisture pressing against her upper thigh. She urged Hansen forward until her lips could reach the generous breasts, teasing the rosy nipples with her lips and tongue, flicking them lightly with a teasing tip, then covering them completely as she sucked them firmly.

"Oh yes," Annika hissed, using her arms to support herself as she undulated against the insistent thigh pressing against her most intimate spot. Johnson could only moan in happy agreement as she alternated breasts, giving each nipple loving attention, noting the increase of liquid bathing her leg as her lover rocked against her. Immediately, she wormed her hand between their bodies, moving past wiry curls until she reached Annika's crease. The position was not the best but she was able to reach the sensitive nub, albeit barely. Her fingertip moved over the stiff little ridge, fondling it in rhythm to the motion of Annika's hips and the young woman cried out, increasing her motion significantly. Within seconds, Johnson felt the younger woman tremble and cry out before collapsing on top of her. Johnson wrapped her arms around her lover and pulled her close, shifting so they were lying side by side.

"I love you," she said, brushing her lips over Annika's chin, smiling when she felt long insistent fingers slip between her legs. "You've recovered quickly," she noted, obligingly raising her knee to rest it on the blonde's hip, opening herself up for her lover and moaning as she felt the loving touch.

"It's been over a month since you've let me love you," Hansen said mildly, her fingers finding the right spot and gently brushing back and forth against it, dabbling in the moisture she found there. "I've missed it.  And god knows I've missed you."

"I ... I didn't realize..." Johnson admitted, finding intelligent conversation hard in light of the wonderful things her lover was doing to her. "But you're right ... god ... Annika..." She allowed herself to be pushed onto her back and spread her legs invitingly. "Please. Now, darling ... it's been too long..."

"With pleasure," Annika replied, claiming Kathryn's mouth again at the same time she gently pushed two fingers deep inside the smaller woman, her thumb pressing insistently against the outer ribbon of sensitive flesh. Johnson could only helplessly moan as her hips bucked hard against the firmly thrusting fingers, driving her higher and higher until finally she was there, crying out as her inner muscles clamped down and held her lover deep inside.

When she felt Annika gently withdrawing from her, Johnson was sure their lovemaking session was over until she felt her lover move between her legs and kiss her inner thighs. A fresh wave of pleasure shot through her as loving lips brushed over her triangle of auburn hair. "Annika," she whispered urgently, putting her hands on the scientist's head to guide her where she needed her to be. "We'll be late."

"Yes, Kathryn," Hansen agreed, before finding a much better use for her mouth.

Johnson groaned, feeling the light flicker of tongue over her sensitive spot, then lips covering it as the young woman suckled it gently. "Oh, god." The touch was so tender, so very loving, that she felt herself cast adrift on all the emotions that she had been keeping so rigidly under wraps for so long. Fingers moved into her again, filling her as they had such a short time earlier, pressing insistently within her. This climax came even quicker than the first, leaving her shaken and feeling as vulnerable as she had ever felt before. Tears leaked from beneath her closed lids and a sob escaped before she could stop it.

Annika gently kissed her way up her body and gathered her up in her arms, holding her tightly as Johnson let go completely, unable to control it at all, no matter how hard she tried.

"I'm here, Kathryn," the young woman promised. "I'm always going to be."

Johnson didn't answer, merely clung to Annika as she wept. It took quite a few minutes before she was able to retrieve the shards of her composure, knitting them back together with an effort.

She swallowed hard, her throat aching. "I'm not sure what that was," she admitted weakly.

"It was something you needed to do," Annika whispered, stroking Johnson's auburn hair slowly. "Please, don't ever be ashamed of that, Kathryn. Not with me."

Johnson shuddered, the lingering remains of the walls she had built so carefully over the years, crumbling to nothing. In doing so, it was as if a light had been allowed through, one that brought freshness and a renewed sense of being.

"Oh, my," she said finally, huddled in the comforting arms of her lover. "I don't think I needed to do it before going to dinner with your parents, however."

Annika chuckled. "Well, perhaps the timing could have been better." She hesitated, then nuzzled her. "We can always call and postpone the dinner," she suggested in a softer voice. "I'd much rather spend this time with you."

"I agree but..." Johnson shook her head. "It might not be the wisest idea," she said. She traced a path over Annika's chest with her fingertips, stroking the smooth skin lightly. "I think it took a great deal for them to invite me tonight," she added quietly. "We shouldn't overlook such an opportunity."

"Hmm, you're probably right," Annika allowed. She glanced down at her and their eyes met for a moment that seemed to last an eternity. "I love you, you know," she whispered, as if it were a new revelation to her.

"I know," Johnson responded, feeling very close to tears again. "I love you, too, my darling. I'm never letting you go ... not for anything."

Carefully, Annika kissed her, the captain's flavor strong on her lips. It did not deter Johnson in the slightest and she returned the kiss as deeply as she could.

"We need to get ready again," she murmured when they finally parted.

"Yes," Annika agreed. A smile curled her full lips. "Would you care to join me for a shower, Captain Johnson?"

"I believe I would, Lt. Hansen," Johnson muttered. "Lead the way." "So how did it go?" Janeway asked the second the doors to Johnson's ready room closed. She had headed to the alternative Voyager as soon as her duty shift had ended, determined to discover how Johnson's first day back as captain went, not to mention what had happened the night before. After not seeing her counterpart for almost twenty-four hours, she was being eaten alive with curiosity.

"Annika?" Johnson asked, leaning back in her chair. "Or dealing with the prospective in-laws?"

"Both," Janeway demanded, sinking down in the chair opposite the desk. "Start with Annika."

"It was ... different," Johnson allowed. "It felt good, but it was frightening at the same time." She paused. "I guess I'm still trying to figure out the dinner with the in-laws."

"God, so am I," Janeway said ruefully, conscious of her own feelings regarding the Hansens still lingering long after the experience. "I'm just glad you're taking them with you when you return to your own universe. I have enough to deal with in the Delta Quadrant without having my in-laws breathing down my neck."

"Actually I was surprised by how well it went. I expected to be raked over the coals but they were civil and seemed to be accepting of our relationship ... though Annika's father did make sure to point out that if I ever did anything to hurt his little girl that the universe wouldn't be big enough to hide from him."

Janeway laughed. "He threatened me the same way. I told him he'd have to wait in line behind Mother and Seven's friends."

"By the way, remind me to thank Seven for that dress she gave Annika. It's really quite something."

"They look good in just about anything they wear, don't they?" Janeway said with a smile. "Seven has this away mission outfit that is just so ... so ... I don't know how to describe it, but whenever she wears it, my heart starts pounding."

"Along with a few other parts of your anatomy, hmm?" Johnson said with a grin.

"Just a few," Janeway agreed, flopping into the chair. "So what about you and Annika?"

"We're working on it." Johnson shook her head. "You didn't tell me how hard it would be."

"I did, you just didn't pay attention," Janeway pointed out. "I know it has to be frightening for you, but don't forget, Annika is adapting as well. It will just take a little time for you both to become comfortable giving control to someone else."

"At least ... at least she's willing to move in with me."

Janeway snorted. "Coward."

"Now what?" Johnson said defensively. "You should know I'm not one for living with someone. Mark and I didn't move in together until after we were married."

"So why are you giving anything less to Annika? What do you want from her, Katie? Do you want her just to live with you for the convenience or do you want her to share your life?"

"You know the answer to that," Johnson said grouchily.

"So what are you afraid of?"

"I don't exactly have a good track record when it comes to marriage," she pointed out.

"You found you could live without Mark. Could you live without Annika?" Needing to relax the mood, Janeway's lips quirked into a smile. "Could you live without those kisses?"

Johnson blushed appropriately. "Heavens, no," she admitted. "That woman can turn my legs into jelly with those lips of hers."

Inspired by the reminder, Janeway's eye was caught by the desk mirroring her own, and a smile refused to hide itself as she fondly cast her mind back to the night her intrepid Borg utilized the site-to-site transport in order to make one of her most secret fantasies come true.

"Oh, please share," Johnson said, quick to recognize the expression.

"It's nothing," the blushing woman replied.

"Kathryn," Johnson said, "I know that grin." She followed the gaze to her desk and swallowed. "You didn't."

Janeway assumed a cocky smile and laced her fingers.

"Which one?"

"Bent over, from behind," Janeway said, her cheeks flaming even more as she thought about some of her other fantasies. "I thought the damn thing would collapse before she was done with me. Thank god Starfleet builds them sturdy."

Johnson looked at her counterpart, then at the desk, then back to her counterpart. "I can't believe you actually did it ... on the desk."

Janeway indicated entirely too much satisfaction about it, waving her hand airily about. "Not to mention the couch, the ensuite, that place under the hull..."

"Stop," Johnson ordered, opening her tunic as the room temperature seemed to rise dramatically. "How many fantasies have you explored?"

"More than I ever thought I would," Janeway said honestly. "Every time I let one slip to her, I can expect to be experiencing it within a week."

"The command chair?"

"First one we tried. Seven programmed the holodeck, and considering it was her first attempt at fulfilling a fantasy of any kind, it was pretty damned good."

"Any you haven't told her about?"

"Well..." Janeway trailed off and they exchanged smirks, undoubtedly thinking of the same one, if the matching blushes were any indication.

They sat in companionable silence for a minute before Janeway spoke.

"So are your manners completely gone, or are you going to offer me something to drink?"

"You know where the replicator is," Johnson said blandly, but she rose to her feet and got them both a cup of coffee. "Now that you've made it impossible for me to look at my desk without becoming aroused," she said as she handed Janeway one of the mugs and settled back in her chair, "answer me a question." Johnson paused, trying to formulate the right words. "How?" she asked finally. "On the desk, I mean."

Janeway laughed and uncoiled from her chair, walking around the desk to stand next to her counterpart. "Sometimes my wife is truly inspired," she said, turning the computer toward her and entering in the search parameters. "375 ration slips, but take it from me, it can be fun at times."

Johnson's eyes grew wide at the picture on the screen. "The Wonder Wand 9000™?"

Janeway pressed a button, causing the screen to change and give a more detailed explanation. "Oh Katie, if your Annika is anything like mine, you've been missing out on quite a bit."

"I don't know about that," Johnson defended, smiling slyly. "I might happen to know a few things that you don't. After all, I am a Starfleet captain, seeking out new life and new adventures." She wiggled her eyebrows for emphasis.

"Make the next round something a little stronger than coffee and we'll compare notes," Janeway offered. She didn't really expect her counterpart to take her up on the suggestion since they were in the ready room. "As I'm sure Seven and Annika are doing right now."

But a wicked glint crossed the familiar blue-grey eyes and to Janeway's surprise, Johnson once more left her seat and crossed over to the replicator. "The usual?"

"Sounds perfect." Startled, but not about to give any indication that she was less daring than Johnson, Janeway moved up to the upper level and settled herself down in the chair facing the couch, opening her tunic and letting her feet rest on the coffee table. "Bring the computer over. I'll show you some other stuff I've found."

"First things first," Johnson said, setting a full decanter of whiskey and soda down on the table along with two rock glasses and a tub of ice.

"Planning on this taking a while, I see," Janeway said in an amused tone as she put equal amounts of ice into each glass.

Sitting in a ready room mirroring her own, with a person sharing the same genetic makeup and whose life for the most part ran parallel to her own, Janeway felt as if she was sitting with an old, dear friend with whom she could shirk the role of captain or wife and just be Kathryn. It accorded her a freedom she did not have on Voyager, where her closest confidant, other than Seven of course, was Tuvok, who hardly shared her occasional base sense of humor and never ever shared 'war stories'. It was something that she probably wouldn't experience again for a good long time and she was determined to take full advantage of it.

"You know, my Annika can pick me up and carry me off to the bedroom," Janeway offered happily. "It's so romantic."

"We barely make it to the couch, half the time," Johnson noted, her voice the slightest bit challenging.

"I hope you have a soft couch," Janeway noted evenly.

"It beats rolling around on the deck," Johnson said.

"Done my share of that in the past couple of years," Janeway responded.

Johnson stared at her for a moment, then smiled.

"I don't know about you, Captain Janeway, but I certainly have plenty of tales to tell," Johnson said, removing her tunic completely in favor of wearing just her maroon command shirt.

"That sounds like a challenge, Captain Johnson," Janeway returned, removing her own tunic and rolling up her slate-blue sweater sleeves. "Don't forget I have far more experience with my blonde beauty."

"Ah ... you mean you don't have enough imagination to make up for a lack of experience?" Johnson asked blandly.

"I don't need as much imagination as you do. Seven has the knowledge of ten thousand species in her head." Janeway shot her a glance from the corner of her eye. "Including their mating habits."

"Good thing. She probably needs it with you."

Janeway raised an eyebrow. "At least I get it on a regular basis."

"Touché. However I did have the best kind last night ... make-up sex. Before and after."

Janeway looked at her blankly. "Before and after what?" she asked.

"Dinner," Johnson said succinctly, looking vaguely pleased with herself. "Believe me, I was a hell of a lot more relaxed because of it." She hesitated, wiggling experimentally. "A little sore though. Perhaps we shouldn't have been so enthusiastic so soon after I got out of sickbay ... but it's a good kind of soreness." She grinned. "You know?"

"Oh, I know," Janeway returned. "Seven's been all over me since this whole thing started. She apparently believes that the problems you and Annika were suffering were somehow contagious and she wanted to make sure we didn't catch it. I'm almost as sore as you are." An entirely too mischievous grin came to the Starfleet captain's lips. "You have to remember that my wife has Borg enhancements."

"My mere Human model is very ... flexible," Johnson said, refilling their glasses. "And so far, there hasn't been anything my loving physicist isn't willing to try." She glanced at the image on her computer screen, regarding it ruefully. "Of course we've never tried that."

"You won't believe how lifelike it is," Janeway responded, feeling pleasantly wicked. "I set it to match Seven's skin tone and I swear it's just like she grew one of her own. It even adjusts to her body temperature which is ... quite pleasant."

Johnson's eyebrow raised as she considered the mental image. "Best of both worlds. That's the one thing I thought I would miss about being with Annika, but she manages quite nicely," she said, holding up her hand and wiggling her fingers.

"Ah, yes, but fingers can only reach so far," Janeway pointed out. "The Wonder Wand is adjustable and remembers several different settings depending on what mood you're in. Most of the time, size and shape is irrelevant, but other times, it can make a whole lot of difference."

"I can see the advantages to that," Johnson allowed, adding a few more cubes of ice to her drink. "Certainly handier than Mark."

"Lasts longer too," Janeway said in a commiserating tone, causing both of them to laugh for a moment at the expense of their ex and his Human shortcomings. "Seven has certainly become quite adept at wielding it. Best of all, she always uses it with the intention of pleasuring me, rather than herself. That makes another big difference."

"Uh-huh," Johnson said with a knowing smile. "I know you, Captain. You can't tell me it doesn't give you a thrill to be the one 'at warp speed' on top of all that Borg."

"Actually, that I wouldn't know," Janeway admitted. "Seven's very ... tight and really didn't like it used on her, the one time we tried. One of these days, however, when I have the spare rations, I'm going to find something in the entertainment menu that she can enjoy, too."

"That's a shame," Johnson said, without a touch of sincerity. "I, on the other hand, can definitely put it to good use."

"Just make sure Annika puts it to good use on you, too. Especially with some of the other features." Janeway reached over and pointed at one feature highlighted on the screen. "That is particularly effective ... but really only if you're on top."

They both took another long swallow from their drinks. "So tell me," Johnson remarked. "Any, uh, 'quirks'?"

Janeway grinned. "Seven really likes the rear docking port," she admitted.

Johnson wrinkled her nose. "Indeed?"

"No, it's not like that," Janeway elaborated, "Seven is remarkably pristine ... comes from her nanoprobes taking care of her digestive system. So everything is just as clean and pure as ... well, driven snow, for lack of a better cliché. And she really likes it, maybe because she's more sensitive there..." She trailed off, sobering suddenly, sadness coloring her eyes to grey. "She lost a lot of her internal reproductive organs to the Borg. In fact, she just sort of terminates into scar tissue a certain distance inside, which is, I suppose, what really precludes her from enjoying the Wonder Wand. I guess her other conduit maintains a more ... natural sensation since it's been primarily left untouched."

Johnson looked a little pale and Janeway was sorry she had brought down the tone of the conversation, determined to get it back. She forced a grin, eyeing her counterpart. "What she really likes is my fingers filling both conduits while I use my thumb on her little warpcore. I can make her fly around the room with that move. Once, she was so excited, she even snapped my wrist. You can imagine me having to explain that to the Doctor."

Startled, Johnson snorted laugher. "What did you tell him?"

"I told him I fell down," Janeway said, laughing. "Of course, not only was it extremely difficult to ... uh, undock from Seven because it hurt so damned much, I couldn't wash my hand properly before calling him. I could smell her scent on my fingers the entire time he was repairing the bones of my wrist. I'm certainly glad holograms have no olfactory sense."

"Are you sure he doesn't?" Johnson asked between her chuckles.

Janeway thought about it. "Hmm," she said, remembering his expression, the odd look in his eyes, the rather disbelieving sniff that she hadn't really noticed at the time because she was in pain, but now recognized in retrospect. "Come to think of it, maybe he does."

The two women howled until they could barely breathe.

After the laughter had finally died away to a few chuckles, Janeway nudged her counterpart. "What about Annika ... any quirks there?"

Johnson thought about it and a slow smile spread across her face.

"Well..." She took a slow sip of her drink. "She tends to be more adventurous than I am. After all, it's not like I'm the first one to ever dock in her port. She's had a ... few more lovers than I have."

"Poor thing," Janeway said with a grin, smugly conscious that she was Seven's one and only.

"I'm not even the first woman she's been with. Can you imagine how worried I was about the comparison?"

"The same way we worried about how we compared to the other women Mark had been with?" the Delta captain offered. "It's those Janeway insecurities popping up."

"Yeah," Johnson agreed. "I bet you don't have those anymore since you went and got that security band hooked up around your ankle."

"Oh dear, you should have seen me at the wedding," Janeway said, laughing helplessly. "I thought I was going to pass out right there at the altar."

"I think I was more nervous about having to live with Mark than I was about the wedding."

"Seven and I became engaged when I asked her to move in with me, but we lived together for just over a year before we got married."

"So it should have been a space walk for you."

"Should have," Janeway agreed, reaching for the decanter. "I was fine until that morning. I suppose it didn't help that I had a hangover the size of Jupiter."

"You got drunk the night before your wedding?"

"I don't remember drinking that much but yes, I was completely intoxicated. Worse than the post semester class party at the Academy."

"Ooh," Johnson winced in sympathy.

"The Doctor gave me a hypospray to help."

"Lucky you. Pulaski would have made you suffer."

Janeway smiled. "Good thing she's on your ship then."

"So tell me more. I saw the holo-image. You wore dress whites and Seven wore the most lovely dress."

"She patterned it after the one Mom wore when she got married. At least, someone in the Starfleet Uniform Design Division finally found some taste. Can you imagine getting married in those awful red things?"

Johnson laughed. "I wore just a simple beige pantsuit, but then again, Mark and I were married in a quick civil ceremony in San Francisco just before I took the Mars posting." Her eyes grew distant. "Three days for a honeymoon and then, I was gone again. Not much wonder he divorced me."

"God," Janeway muttered, horrified. "At least, Seven and I were given a week in the holodeck by the crew." She took a swallow of whiskey, feeling it burn pleasantly down her esophagus. "When we return to the Alpha Quadrant, Seven and I are going to renew our vows so Mom and Phoebe can be there."

"Ah, any excuse for another honeymoon, eh?" Johnson wiggled her eyebrows.

"You should have seen the reception," Janeway continued. "B'Elanna and Sek came up with most of the traditions that we had to do, and since Seven wore the dress, it was my job to get the garters and stockings."

"You're kidding."

"Nope." The Delta captain gave a wicked smile. "You should have seen Seven's face when I put my hand under her dress. She was certainly very nervous about how ... ah, close I would get."

"Well, when you're that close to the promised land, it's awfully hard not to touch," Johnson said.

"So true," Janeway agreed. "Of course I do try to make the pilgrimage as often as possible."

"Ah, back to sex again," Johnson said. She bent forward and snatched the decanter. "Actually, Annika is quite fond of ... shall we say aggression? Maybe I need to consider the whole desk scenario for her? She loves being ravished."

"Who wouldn't? That's not a quirk, that's the sign of a job well done." The smug look returned, albeit a trifle sloppy after the amount of liquor Janeway had consumed. "My Borg lasts longer."

"How do you know? Annika is quite capable of going a few orbits riding in the captain's shuttle."

"Bet yours can't make her fingers vibrate."

Johnson looked appropriately impressed. "She can?"

"Some of those Borg enhancements are more ... useful than others," Janeway smirked. She was sprawled lazily over the chair and took another hefty swallow from her glass. "You know," she added thoughtfully, "it's just this constant exploration with my Seven. Two years later and I still haven't discovered all the things she likes ... probably because she doesn't know what she likes until she tries it herself." She raised her glass. "We both just keep boldly going where no one's gone before."

"You talk dirty to her?"

Janeway snorted laughter. "God, remember how much that used to disturb the hell out Justin?" she said. She glanced over at her counterpart. "He was such a prude. Of course, I talk to her ... quite often. Though, for the first little while, Seven didn't even know what I was saying; it was all just gibberish to her. You wouldn't believe how many times she stopped in the middle of something to make me explain a phrase or a word to her. Now, she's even managed to do it back on occasion, but not very well, I'm afraid. I'm always torn between laughing and becoming more aroused."

"Tough choice," Johnson chuckled, draining her glass and reaching for the decanter.

"Oh please," Janeway said, holding out her glass for more. "When it comes to Seven, she just has to look at me the right way and I'm nothing but a puddle."

"I've done that to Annika," Johnson said proudly. "I called her in here one day ... oh, it must have been before the first ambush. She thought I wanted to talk to her about some inane report or another, and I just sat there at my desk and told her in clear and precise terms just what I was going to do with her once we got off duty."

"I'm surprised she didn't jump over the desk and take you right there."

"She looked like she really wanted to, and to tell the truth, I was kind of hoping she would, but she didn't." Johnson wiggled her eyebrows. "But of course I took care of that once our duty shifts were over."

Janeway nodded. "I have to admit, there have been a few times when I've been less than completely professional while on duty," she said. "I think it's just because of the situation we're in. Really, we're always on call in the Delta Quadrant, even when we're not actually logged in, and when there's a crisis, we can go for days without even seeing each other. I've let more than one protocol slip now and again."

Johnson propped her booted feet up on the coffee table. "Is that so bad?" she wanted to know. "Seriously, does Starfleet come to a screeching halt because you kiss the woman you love after everyone's left the conference room? Or because you make time for a quick hug in an empty science lab in the morning?"

"It hasn't in this reality," Janeway said firmly. "I mean, it's not like Seven and I are crawling over each other in front of the crew, but yes, if we have a moment to ourselves in the run of a day, and a little privacy, then I'm going to kiss her, and frankly, it makes the rest of the shift go a hell of a lot better. For the rest of my crew as well, because I'm in a much better mood after spending a moment or two with my wife."

"Here, here," Johnson said, raising her glass. "I'm instituting that policy as of this moment."

"Should have done it months ago," Janeway grumbled. "You wouldn't be in the mess you're in."

"When you're right, you're right, Katie," Johnson said. "I agree." The decanter was becoming rapidly empty as the captain refilled the glasses. "To spending time kissing Annika." The glasses clinked together sloppily.

"To fulfilling fantasies," Janeway toasted.

"To eyes as blue as the summer sky."

"To legs that never end."

"To twin mountains that I'll never get tired of exploring."

"And what a set of mountains they are, hmm?" Janeway reached for the decanter. "I think they deserve a double toast."

Johnson held her glass out, snorting in a most un-captain like fashion when Janeway missed and poured some on her fingers.

"God," Janeway said. She paused. "What was the toast again?"

Johnson started to laugh and Janeway followed suit. The Starfleet captains had enough prescience to know that they were both quite tipsy at this point, but since it didn't seem to matter much, neither one of them brought it up as a topic to discuss.

"You're right about Annika, too," Johnson said. "I'm going to ask her to marry me. It's only right."

"It is," Janeway said with certainty. "God knows, she probably deserves better, but hell, you'll do until that comes along."

Johnson kicked Janeway soundly in the bottom of the foot and suggested that she perform a single-celled fertilization technique on herself.

Janeway blinked. "But that's what I have Seven for," she objected plaintively.

"You're drunk," Johnson informed her owlishly.

"So are you." Janeway was quick to point out.

"God, yes, and I'm still officially on duty," Johnson said, horrified. She slapped at her comm badge, missing it the first few times, much to Janeway's amusement. "Captain to sickbay," she slurred. "Medical emergency in the ... in the ... where the hell are we, again?"

Janeway snorted laughter. "We're in the ready room," she said loudly, so that the Doctor could hear. "And sometimes, we're really, really ready."

"Oh, god," Janeway heard Pulaski's voice over the channel. "The pair of you stay right where you are. Don't move."

Janeway glanced at Johnson. "Hmm, she encourages us to 'talk'," she said, honestly puzzled, "then, she gets all upset when we do."

"Doctors," Johnson said, shrugging. "Who can figure them out?" She reached out for the decanter. "One more before she gets here."

"Agreed," Janeway said, holding out her glass. Johnson sloshed some in and they raised them. "A toast," the Starfleet captain said. "To my Seven and your Annika, to the best woman in any universe."

"I'll drink to that," Johnson said readily. They drained them and, in a fit of drunken enthusiasm, flung them across the room to smash into the hull. Johnson blinked at them in bemusement. "Not sure why I did that, though."

"Glad it's your ready room," Janeway added. "I won't have to clean it up."

There was a chime at the door and the two women looked guiltily at each other.

"That's probably not good," Janeway noted.

"It's probably the doctor," Johnson said.

"What will we do?"

"Pretend we're not here," Johnson suggested.

That plan was forestalled as Pulaski entered the ready room, taking one look at the two captains who did their best to straighten up in their seats and look respectable. They must not have pulled it off because Pulaski merely rolled her eyes and came over to Johnson.

"We were talking," Johnson offered. Pulaski looked pointedly at the now empty decanter.

"We were drinking too," Janeway snickered. "But only a little."

"Yesh, just a little," Johnson agreed, rising to her feet only to fall back down on the couch.

"I want you to know I'm only doing this because you're the captain and it wouldn't look good for anyone to see you stagger back to your quarters like this," the Doctor said icily as she pressed a hypospray to the woman's neck. "Assuming you could even find them in your condition." She eyed Janeway. "You, on the other hand, are not my responsibility." She picked up the black and red tunic and draped it over the Delta captain's shoulder, then yanked her to her feet, holding her up as she swayed uncertainly. "Pulaski to Voyager, Lt. Commander Tuvok please."

"Tuvok, here," came the precise tones of Voyager's security chief.

"I have a package that needs to be beamed directly to your captain's quarters, if you understand what I mean," she said.

Janeway wondered muzzily when Tuvok had managed to inform Pulaski who the ship's contact person was in situations like this. And why he had even considered the possibility of such a situation happening in the first place.

"Understood, Doctor. Transport in progress."

The confines of Johnson's ready room disappeared, replaced by the familiar surroundings of the captain's bedroom. Janeway only had to stagger two steps forward to fall face down on her bed, grateful for discrete officers and a soft mattress before she passed out. Seven regarded the woman stretched out on her back on the couch and noted, not for the first time, that they really weren't the same person after all. Particularly when it came to alcohol. Annika obviously had an appreciation for hard liquor while the Borg was more than content with her flute of champagne. And they certainly did not find interest in the same form of discussion. They had started out discussing the slipstream drive but somehow, over the course of a few drinks and various snack foods, it had slid into an entirely different topic.

"What was the question?" she asked, unsure that she had heard it properly.

"What does Janeway taste like?" Annika asked, her words just the slightest bit slurred.

"She tastes like ... Kathryn," Seven responded. "She has a flavor unique unto her."

"I'll bet," Annika said, a happy smile on her face. "My Kathryn tastes salty, yet sweet at the same time. I had her for dessert last night after dinner with my parents. Oh, Seven, it was so good to be with her again. And she tasted so incredibly wonderful."

"I ... see," Seven remarked, unsure why they were pursuing this line of conversation but fairly willing to go along. Her other confident, B'Elanna, always seemed to get squeamish at this point of such a discussion ... or at least she did, prior to her involvement with Lt. Ro. "I, of course, have nothing to compare my spouse with."

"I have," Annika said. "Even a man or two or four ... believe me, Kathryn tastes the best."

"You have been with men?" Seven asked, greatly interested. That was an encounter she was unfamiliar with and her experience with the wonder wand indicated that even if she had, it would be ... insufficient. "Did you enjoy it?"

Annika waggled her hand back and forth, indicating a lack of real enthusiasm either way. "It had its moments," she said. "I mean, I liked the guys I was with and all, but I wasn't in love with any of them. Love really does make a difference."

"It does," Seven agreed, even if the only person she had ever been with, was the person she loved. "Was your first time ... painful?"

Annika blinked. "Not at all," she said, seemingly baffled by the question. "I had the first few times taken care of by a hologram, after all. Most people do, and the holoprogram safeties always makes sure you're completely ready for what happens."

Seven blinked. "Kathryn's first time was not so pleasant," she said. "She was with Cheb Packer. He was ... inept."

Annika stared at her in amazement, and it was obvious to the Borg that this was completely new information to her. Finally, the scientist just shook her head and snorted.

"God, don't you love Traditionalists?" Annika mumbled. "Have to do everything the hard way."

"She enjoyed her other male lovers, however," Seven added. She regarded her champagne. "That is partially the reason I replicated the Wonder Wand 9000. I did not wish her to miss any aspect of making love."

"The Wonder what?"

A few taps on the computer brought up the schematics, and Annika's eyes widened appreciatively. "Oh, yes, definitely got to add this to the repertoire," she muttered as she sat up to study the screen. "But jeez, look at the size of the thing."

"It is adjustable in both size and color," Seven explained as her counterpart studied the screen. "I particularly like the tiger pattern with the black stripe and the neon blue, but Kathryn refuses to let me do the programming."

Hansen, who had been in the middle of taking a drink, snorted and spewed liquid all over the computer. "I can understand why. Neon blue?"

"It is an appealing color," Seven defended. "But Kathryn prefers a closer approximation to my own skin tones."

"Ah, no sense of adventure, our Kathryn," the tipsy physicist said, her eyes still on the screen, trying to read through the drops. "Certainly has ... range, doesn't it?" Her eyebrows rose as a small smile crossed her lips. "Bet it's quite a ride."

"Kathryn enjoys it," Seven offered. "Perhaps your Kathryn will as well."

Hansen chuckled. "I'm sure she would." She finished her drink while imagining the possible scenarios "Hey, what do you mean Janeway enjoys it. You don't?"

"I am not capable of enjoying the Wonder Wand," Seven said.

"Why not?"

"Kathryn says I am too ... tight," the slightly embarrassed Borg admitted. "It does not ... fit and I do not believe I could adjust to make it fit. It will reduce in length enough, but remains too wide to be accessible for me."

Hansen snorted. "Well, there you go, Seven. Yet another difference."

"I must point out that I am quite satisfied while using it to pleasure Kathryn. It attaches to the wearer and provides stimulation, the sensitivity of which is adjustable."

The intrigued scientist quickly scanned the different option and features. "Oh yes, this looks better and better all the time." Setting the full size padd on the cluttered coffee table, Hansen stood up and swayed over to the replicator. "You ready for another one, Seven?"

"Yes." The Borg stared at her empty glass, wondering where the champagne had gone.

"So let me ask you another question," Hansen said as she flopped back on the couch, her clothes rumpled, short white blonde locks sticking in all different directions. "Does Janeway ... talk?"

"Talk?"

That earned Seven another tolerant smile. "You know, while you're making love. Does your captain start talking about what she's going to do to you and what she wants you to do to her even as you're already doing it?"

"You mean, does she become profane? Does Captain Johnson?"

"Are you kidding? She sounds like she just fell out of a freighter cargo hold," Hansen said. "Worse than a space station dockhand. So does yours?" she prodded.

"Yes," Seven said. "However..." She paused long enough to have another sip of her champagne, which she found to be going down remarkably smooth. "Discussion becomes fairly incoherent at a certain stage, and after that, it is just so much noise."

Hansen hooted and laughed, splashing a bit of her drink on her tunic. "That's pretty good, Seven." She held her glass out. "Let's have a toast."

"Who shall we toast?"

"Kathryn, silly."

"Which Kathryn?"

"Both." Hansen clinked her glass against Seven's fluted stemware. "To Kathryn Janeway and Kathryn Johnson." They drank their toast and sat in companionable silence for a minute.

"You know what I really enjoy, Seven?" Annika asked.

"What?" Seven prompted.

"I love it when we have all the time in the world and Kathryn puts her face down between my legs and absolutely devours me," the young woman explained with languid pleasure.

Seven shifted uncomfortably, feeling certain sensations she was unused to feeling in the absence of her spouse. "Indeed," she said.

"Yeah, we can lie there for hours," Annika muttered happily. "She just keeps me going on and on until I'm practically unconscious." Her face saddened. "That was back on Mars, though, where we could share two or three days off in a row. In the beginning, we'd never get out of bed. Here on the ship, we've never had the chance to spend the whole day in bed." She turned her head toward the Borg. "What about you and your Kathryn?"

"We have made a point of arranging time for ourselves," Seven said with a certain satisfaction. "Our lovemaking sessions have lasted as long as six or seven hours at a time. And of course, we had an entire week to ourselves for our honeymoon and occasionally manage a night away from the ship during shore leave rotations on various planets." Her face saddened abruptly. "But lately, to spend the whole day in bed? No, we are usually interrupted for one thing or another." She paused. "There was one time, however, when we were trapped on a planet together for three weeks. One day, we took our blanket down to the meadow by the river and made love for hours. There was not another sentient being on the planet, just the two of us beneath the wind and sky. I remember the incandescent quality of Kathryn's skin in the sunshine, the way she seemed to almost glow like fire against the green of the grass." She smiled wistfully at the memory, and Annika stared at her in astonishment.

"Wow, Seven," she said. "That's positively poetic."

"Kathryn inspires such poetic outbursts," Seven admitted modestly.

"I obviously need to get my Kathryn off for some shore leave, I see," Annika muttered.

"I have not told Kathryn this," Seven admitted, "because it would only make her feel bad that she is unable to accommodate me, but I want more than anything to spend time alone with her. I wish to spend several days with her in a place where no one can contact us." She sighed wistfully. "That would be perfection."

"Why can't she accommodate you?" Annika asked, a touch of anger in her tone.

"Because Voyager is alone here in the Delta Quadrant," Seven said, explaining slowly, as if to a child. "For us to remain somewhere alone for several days or a week, the ship must also maintain its position within reach. How could we justify interrupting our return to the Alpha Quadrant simply for Kathryn and me to have a 'vacation'?"

Annika blinked. "Uh, right, sorry," she said. "I forgot."

No doubt due to the amount of alcohol she was imbibing, Seven noted, but did not say aloud. She noted that her counterpart was eyeing her with a speculative expression, and she quirked an eyebrow.

"Yes?" she invited.

"I told you what I most like my Kathryn doing to me," Annika said. "What about you?"

Seven considered the question.

"I appreciate all the techniques that Kathryn utilizes," she said honestly.

"No single favorite?"

Seven hesitated. "I like it when she penetrates me anally," she said. "I understand that is not a particular favorite of many women ... perhaps because of the possibility of bacterial infection that I do not share due to my Borg nature."

Annika obviously needed to work her mind around that one. "Uh, you like it from the rear, you mean," she said finally. "And because you're Borg, it's a lot less ... uh, complicated."

"Yes," Seven replied, accepting that interpretation.

"How?"

"With her fingers," Seven explained. "Occasionally, however, she provides an oral caress though she has admitted to maintaining a certain amount of irrational reluctance to do so." Her eyes softened. "That is why it is so memorable when she does overcome her biases and pleasures me that way. I know it is entirely for my sake, because she does not find it particularly enjoyable."

Annika nodded. "That's why it's 'making love', I guess, rather than just sex," she agreed. "When you derive more from pleasuring rather than being pleasured." She regarded her vodka. "So where's the wildest place you and Kathryn have ever done it?"

"Wild?"

"Most unusual place," Annika prodded. "A place where you probably aren't supposed to, but did it anyway."

"Kathryn's desk in her ready room," Seven said, noting with scientific detachment how Annika's eyes widened significantly, her jaw dropping open. She predicted that her counterpart's next words would be to indicate disbelief in the statement.

"You're kidding!"

"Not at all," Seven said. "Kathryn indicated that it was one of her fantasies and of course, I did my best to fulfill it."

"How?"

Seven took another sip of champagne. "She positioned herself face down on the desktop surface and I utilized our accessory to pleasure her from behind," she said. She paused, frowning. "Not anally," she added for clarification, in case Annika presumed that. "Kathryn is not fond of that."

"I knew what you meant," Annika said, taking her own swallow of her vodka, in a considerably larger amount than what Seven had imbibed. "Wow, right over the desk, huh? That must have been something."

"Indeed," Seven allowed. "Kathryn indicated that it was most ... agreeable. Loudly. Several times."

"I'll bet!" Annika took another glance at the schematics on the padd lying on the coffee table. "Yes, I am definitely going to have to get myself one of those."

"Where was your 'wildest' encounter?" Seven asked, being polite. After all, Annika had inquired after hers.

Annika thought, then smiled, then thought some more. "Well, we did it once in the Mars caves," she admitted. "That was fun, if a little chilly. Uh, once at a diplomatic function, we snuck off to the bathroom and messed around in the stall ... but nothing really happened." She blinked. "God, don't tell me I'm less adventurous than a Borg?"

Seven wondered if this sensation she was feeling was 'smugness'. She suspected it was.

"Perhaps it is because we are limited in choices on Voyager," she suggested. "Thus, we make the most of what we have."

"Such as?" Annika prodded.

"My Borg alcove," Seven remarked.

Annika's eyes got wide again. "Is that even possible?" she exclaimed.

"Actually, the logistics proved difficult in our initial attempt," Seven allowed, somewhat sheepishly. "However, I have reexamined our strategy and when we once again have the opportunity, I believe that we will be successful."

"Do you approach all your assignations as if they were away missions, Seven?" Annika asked.

"Those that require tactical maneuvering," Seven responded reasonably.

Annika laughed and rolled off the couch, going over to the replicator to create another drink. "Another one?"

Seven regarded her empty flute curiously. "Perhaps I should not," she demurred.

"Ah, live a little, Seven," Annika said, depositing another offering of champagne in Seven's hand.

"Indeed," Seven said, wondering where she had heard that particular saying before. She thought it might have been from B'Elanna and that the outcome had been somewhat less than beneficial to her. However, her empty glass was now full and for some reason, she wasn't able to access her memories as she normally did, so she mentally shrugged and sipped the bubbly liquid.

"Janeway has fantasies?" Annika prompted, once she had collapsed on the sofa once more. "She shared any others with you?"

"Many," Seven informed her. "I do my best to fulfill every one, though certain of them would be impossible to accomplish without the use of the holodeck."

"Kathryn doesn't like the holodeck," Annika said.

"Neither do we," Seven noted, "as a rule. However, if it is just the two of us, with the holodeck serving only as the 'setting', then it can be very ... entertaining."

Annika looked thoughtful. "Then, maybe I should give that a try," she said.

"It is a satisfying sort of encounter," Seven allowed. "It leaves one with a sense of accomplishment when one is able to fulfill a fantasy for the person you love."

"What about you?" Annika said. "Don't you have fantasies?"

Seven hesitated. "I did ... 'acquire' one for Kathryn's sake," she admitted. "So that she would not feel so self-conscious about fulfilling her own. I told her I wished to make love on the conference table in front of the bridge staff ... B'Elanna Torres once offered it to me as a viable fantasy of many people. I do often think of making love to Kathryn during staff meetings, though the actual location is irrelevant, so I utilized it for my own purpose." She paused, thinking about it. "It was very stimulating when we did it, however, so I do not regret choosing that scenario as my fantasy. "

Vodka spurted out Annika's nose and Seven raised an eyebrow, intrigued. The science officer hastily wiped her mouth with a spare shirt that had been jammed down into the couch cushions. "But you don't really fantasize about having sex in front of ... uh, spectators?"

Seven shook her head. "No," she said. "I do not believe I fantasize at all, really ... not in the fashion that Kathryn or perhaps you would. I do not believe I have reclaimed enough of my imagination yet. Even my dreams are quite simplistic compared to Kathryn's, based primarily on what I have experienced rather than what my mind can generate from speculation."

"I assume this conference room thing was in the holodeck as well," Annika said uncertainly.

"Of course," Seven replied, regarding her oddly. "It would be imprudent to do such a thing in reality. Extremely damaging to the smooth functioning of the ship."

"I'll bet," Annika muttered. She lifted her glass and took a long swallow of vodka. "I do know that telling me about the pleasure probe there has just generated a whole lot of new fantasies for me."

"Wonder Wand," Seven corrected.

"Whatever," Annika said. She leaned her head back, staring at the ceiling contemplatively as she added in a dreamy voice, "I can just imagine having Kathryn take me up against the hull in the ready room, now."

Seven quirked her eyebrow, but did not comment. Indeed, it did not seem the sort of thing that required comment.

There was a chime at the door, and the two Hansens regarded each other uncertainly.

"Uh, come in," Annika said.

Dr. Pulaski entered, stepping gingerly over the padds and clothes scattered on the floor. She looked first at Annika, then at Seven, a sort of resigned expression in her eyes. "I came down here to inform you that your spouse requires a certain amount of assistance," she said to the Borg. "However, it seems that you require the same type of help."

Seven blinked. "Kathryn needs my help?" she asked with some alarm as she stood up, placing the glass on the table beside her. She faltered as the room seemed to sway about her and promptly sat back down before unsteadily making her way to her feet again.

"No," Pulaski said, obviously regretting that she had brought it up. "But it is probably time that you returned to your own ship." She touched her comm badge. "Pulaski to Voyager. Lt. Commander Tuvok? I have another package to go to the same place."

A pause, then a sort of dignified, yet disapproving "Accepted," came over the communicator. "Transporting now."

Seven felt the unmistakable sensation of a transporter beam and she blinked as she abruptly rematerialized in her own quarters, standing in the middle of the living area where Jake regarded her with a sort of astonishment, his rusty head tilted. She tottered into the bedroom, surprised to find her partner already there, lying face down on the bed, her face sideways on a pillow as she snored lustily. A thin ribbon of drool ran out her open mouth and Seven frowned. She knew she had to get her partner undressed and put to bed properly, but it took all her energy to pull off Kathryn's boots, dropping them clumsily to the floor with loud thumps that did not even cause the captain to stir. Seven felt very odd, wondering why she was unable to think about anything clearly.

She thought that she would lie down for just a second, at least until the room stopped spinning. Then she would get up and complete the task of looking after her spouse who had clearly overindulged in some imprudent behavior.

Darkness overwhelmed her and she knew no more. Johnson paced back and forth nervously, practicing the words she planned on saying and wondering where the hell Annika was. They had shared breakfast, but shortly after, the young scientist had grabbed a padd and said that she would be gone for only a minute, that she needed to check something out. It had afforded Johnson the opportunity to dig a special box out of the back of the closet where she had been keeping it since the last time she had pulled it out ... for Janeway during the last crossover so that she could replicate it precisely ... but now the captain was growing impatient. It was with decided relief that she heard the door hiss open to reveal a vision of blonde hair and womanly curves, and she discovered that perhaps she needed more time, after all. The good captain's mouth went dry and she suddenly wondered if she had lost her mind.

Annika walked in, her nose buried in the padd she was carrying. "You know, if you look at the ship schematics, it really wouldn't be a problem to annex the guest quarters and then we can combine the two, giving us a lot more room." She paused when she saw that Johnson had not moved or said anything since she entered. "Kathryn?" She crossed the room until she was standing directly in front of the woman imitating a statue. "Kathryn?"

"Um ... I, uh..."

Realizing whatever was wrong was not medically related, Hansen relaxed and her face took on a bemused expression. "You look as nervous as a bride on her wedding day," she joked.

"Funny you should mention that," Johnson said nervously, removing the velvet box from her tunic pocket and holding it to Hansen. "Weddings, I mean."

The color drained from the science officer's face and she blindly groped for the chair before falling into it. "K-Kathryn ... are you asking me what I think you're asking me?"

Her own legs wobbly, Johnson sank down to one knee on the deck, her free hand resting on Hansen's leg. "I don't want to just live with you, Annika," she said though her mind could not imagine how words were getting past the throat full of cotton. "I ... want us to be more than that." With shaky fingers she opened the rectangular box to reveal a delicate chain with a small red stone in the middle. "Doctor Annika Hansen, will you..." Johnson's voice cracked, something very unbecoming to a Starfleet captain, and she had to swallow before continuing. "My sweet Annika, will you marry me and become my wife?"

Annika's forehead smashed into Johnson's as her eyes rolled up in her head and she tumbled forward. The captain cursed, trying to catch the young woman and keep her from braining herself further on the coffee table while resisting the urge to grab her own head. Honestly, I should have expected this, she thought as she worked her way out from beneath the unconscious scientist. For whatever reason, Annika tended to pass out whenever she was overwhelmed with strong emotion. It would have been more than enough to keep her out of the Starfleet uniform ... prior to the war. Now, it was simply considered an acceptable medical mystery in an otherwise brilliant science officer.

She slapped at her comm badge and cleared her throat. "Johnson to Pulaski."

"Pulaski here."

"Doctor, could I see you in my quarters as soon as possible," she asked, trying to keep the sense of urgency out of her voice. Both Pulaski and Annika took her collapses in stride, but Johnson hated seeing her lover so helpless. "Annika has passed out."

"On my way."

Johnson sighed and tried to make the young woman more comfortable, straightening out her arms and legs and sliding a pillow from the couch under her head. By the time she was done, Pulaski had arrived and she went over to let her in.

"What did you do to her?" the doctor said, shooting an annoyed look at the sheepish captain. She paused, regarding the captain's forehead as concern colored her gaze. "That's some hematoma you're working on there. What happened?"

"Our heads hit when she collapsed," Johnson explained, touching it gingerly. "I'm okay."

"Uh huh," Pulaski said skeptically. "But what happened?"

Johnson hesitated, then sighed. "I asked her to marry me," she admitted.

Pulaski stared at her. "That would do it, all right," she agreed.

"Doctor, would you please treat her?" Johnson prodded.

Pulaski snorted, but she knelt beside the prone blonde.

Dr. Hansen's eyes fluttered as she felt the familiar hiss of the hypospray and heard the gravelly tones of Kate Pulaski talking to Kathryn.

"First time I've seen her pass out without seeing your blood first," the doctor said to Johnson. Noticing her patient was now awake, she addressed Hansen. "You barely missed the coffee table this time. All things considered, I think I prefer you fainting in Sickbay."

"What happened?" Hansen asked groggily as she pushed herself into a sitting position, her back against the chair she had fallen out of minutes before.

"Guess you'll have to ask her again, Kathryn. I'll stand by with the hypospray just in case."

"Considering what's happened, I think--"

"Oh, my heavens, you asked me to marry you, didn't you?" Hansen yelped, her eyes as wide as they could be.

Johnson nodded shyly, ignoring the amused expression on her mentor's face. "So? Will you marry me?"

"I think your flower is about to wilt again," Pulaski said when the science officer went even more pale that she was already.

"N-no, I'll be all right," Hansen said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm just..."

"In shock," the doctor finished for her. Annika nodded numbly. Pulaski watched the human statues for a moment longer. "Well?" she asked. "Are you going to answer her or am I going to have to treat the captain for having a heart attack while she's waiting?"

"Oh," Hansen said, coming to her senses, if only somewhat. It wasn't every day that a Starfleet captain proposed to a science officer, after all. While not a rare occurrence with Annika Hansen, tears spurted from her eyes, and Kathryn moved immediately, kneeling down next to her beloved and enfolding the younger woman in her arms. "Yes," Annika whispered, her voice choked. "Yes, I want to marry you, too."

Johnson wasn't sure who looked more smug, herself ... or Pulaski. Janeway woke up in a fog of nausea and confusion, her mouth tasting like the inside of an old boot while her head pounded like someone was using it as a gong. She glanced over at her partner and realized that she would not receive any sympathy there ... not only for the ordinary reason of Seven's less than benevolent attitude toward Janeway becoming intoxicated, but because the Borg looked a trifle green around the edges herself. Seven was lying flat on her back, still in her biometric outfit, her hands pressed against her eyes.

"Seven?" the captain whispered harshly.

"Oh, Kathryn," Seven moaned, holding her head. "Do not speak so loudly."

"What the hell happened to you?" Janeway said, closing her eyes to keep the room from spinning.

"Dr. Hansen wished to discuss the successful conclusion to her reconciliation with Captain Johnson," Seven admitted. "Over champagne."

Janeway laughed, then repented immediately, the action making her head hurt worse than ever. "Whiskey was my poison ... Johnson and I must have drunk two liters of it," she said. She paused, breathing quietly so as not to move the bed too much. "We should call the Doctor."

Seven groaned again. "He will lecture us first," she said.

"Oh yes, he will, won't he," Janeway agreed glumly. "Darling, who's idea was it to become the confidantes of our counterparts?"

"This is not the time to discuss that," Seven said. She swallowed, very carefully. "I am now going to make an attempt to rise."

"Just vomit in the other direction and not on the bed," Janeway offered. Then desperately regretted making the suggestion as Seven gulped, rolled quickly off the bed and dashed for the bathroom. As retching sounds floated in from the ensuite, Janeway curled up on her side and pulled a pillow over her head to muffle the noise, needing every molecule of command discipline to keep her own stomach in her midsection rather than have it come out her ears as it was threatening to do.

Finally, the sounds stopped and Seven staggered out of the ensuite. "Cure," she said thickly, apparently not wanting to use any more than one syllable wherever possible. Janeway didn't reply at all, trying to remain still until her partner returned with a glass full of some thick, red liquid. The captain didn't ask what was in it, knowing that Seven would not answer and that if she did, Janeway would probably regret it anyway. It tasted vile and she swallowed it as quickly as possible, but when she had finished and followed it up with the glass of ice water Seven had thoughtfully added, Janeway felt a great deal more Human. She blinked at her partner who still looked a bit ashen, though clearly she had availed herself of her own concoction if the reddish stain down the front of her blue-and-grey outfit was any indication.

"Shower," the captain said.

"Yes," Seven agreed. Carefully, they both tottered into the ensuite where Seven activated the three hydro nozzles. Janeway had to struggle out of her uniform, wrinkled from her having slept in it, while Seven wiggled out of her own biometric suit with difficulty. Naked finally, they stumbled under the driving spray of the shower, leaning together under the warm water, propping up each other to keep from falling.

"I'll never drink again," Janeway swore.

"Neither will I," Seven agreed.

The water continued to pour down, easing some of the sense of dehydration and overall griminess, the pair standing there for several minutes, trying to achieve enough ambition to start their day. Neither of them wanted to move, and the captain finally decided that since she was somewhat more experienced with this, it was up to her to lead the way.

"We should ... get something to eat," Janeway suggested.

"I know," Seven responded, without enthusiasm.

It took more than an hour for the couple to get dressed and replicate some breakfast, but eventually both women were feeling a bit more like facing the world.

"Darling," Janeway said, taking a swallow from her third cup of coffee, having polished off a plate of eggs, ham, toast and home fries as well, "remind me never to get involved in trying to solve other people's love lives, all right?"

"I shall," Seven said, sipping her glass of orange juice uncertainly. Her oatmeal remained untouched for the most part. "I also promise not to encourage you to get involved with such a thing again."

"Well, I have to admit, between you and Pulaski," Janeway allowed, "I was doomed."

Seven inhaled slowly. "I have noticed that you have spent a significant amount of time with the other Voyager's doctor," she said. "How do you know her?"

Janeway blinked, realizing that with everything else going on, she hadn't even had a chance to tell her partner all about the role Kate Pulaski had played in her past.

"I know the doctor very well," she said. "But it's a really long story, and I don't have time to tell you now. But I promise that I'll tell you the whole thing once this situation has resolved itself."

Seven nodded, apparently content with that, though Janeway suspected that if her spouse had not been feeling so delicate at the moment, she would have insisted on hearing it now. The captain finished the last of her coffee and got to her feet.

"In fact," Janeway added. "I think I'll pop by and see the good doctor now, before Voyager II begins preparations to return to its own universe. I don't want to leave it until the last minute and perhaps not get the chance to offer a proper good-bye."

"I understand, Kathryn," Seven said. She still looked vaguely ill, not having the experience in getting over a hangover as quickly as Janeway did. "I believe I shall speak with Sek this morning, before going over to offer my own farewells to the Hansens."

Janeway grinned. "Do you want Sek in a psychiatric capacity? Or a medical one?"

Seven merely cast her a dark look, and Janeway chuckled as she went into the ensuite, where she cleaned her teeth and completed the rest of her ablutions. B'Elanna Torres picked up her tool kit and backed out of the Jeffries tube, filing away yet another advantage that this Voyager had over her own. With the war, there was no question that both weapons and shield generators were being vastly improved in leaps and bounds in advance of other systems. Of course, she was just as proud of her own vessel. After all it had been through out in the Delta quadrant, she doubted that even Scotty could have managed as good a job as she had and if there was one area the Klingon was not modest about, it was her engineering skills.

She hefted the tool kit and trudged back to engineering, hoping to have a quick visit with other engineer before she returned to her own ship. The alternate Voyager would be leaving later in the day, and it was highly unlikely she would ever have the opportunity to speak with him again.

A familiar form crossed into the corridor ahead of her and without thinking, she quickened her step. "Laren," she called. "What are you do..."

She trailed off as the slender Bajoran turned. This was not her Ro Laren, not the woman she had fallen in love with and who loved her back. This was a stranger wearing her lover's face, the eyes cold and bleak, like the deepest pits of hell, while a silver anklet flashed on her right ankle.

"Uh, sorry," B'Elanna said, raising her hand. "Mistook you for someone else."

"Someone else named Laren?" the Bajoran asked flatly. She raked the engineer up and down with a laser gaze, and B'Elanna forcibly relaxed her neck muscles which had grown taut in response, knowing this antagonism was not anything she wanted to aggravate in any way.

"Uh, I'm not from this Voyager," the Klingon explained lamely. "Uh, my Ro ... I mean, I thought you were the Ro Laren from our vessel."

A spark of interest flashed for a brief instant in the dark gaze.

"I exist over there?" she asked.

B'Elanna wondered when she would learn to keep her big mouth shut. Maybe she should just wire it shut, somehow ... drink her meals through a straw, if she had to.

"Uh, yeah," she admitted.

Ro snorted. "Doing what, swabbing out the plasma relays?"

"Actually, Lt. Ro is Captain Janeway's command candidate," B'Elanna said proudly, completely unable to resist sharing that piece of information. "She'll probably be a first officer once we return to the Alpha quadrant."

Ro just stared at her. "Great," she said flatly. "Glad to hear that I did something right in one universe anyway." She stared at the other woman curiously. "Who the hell are you, anyway?"

"Uh, Lt. B'Elanna Torres," the Klingon responded. "I'm our Voyager's chief engineer."

Ro nodded. "Okay, I recognize the name," she said shortly. "Your counterpart is dead, you know. She was on the Liberty when it was taken out by a Jem'Hadar ambush."

Then before B'Elanna could comment further, the Bajoran was gone, stalking down the corridor with brittle pride, though the bow of her shoulders made B'Elanna's heart ache. Suddenly, she didn't like herself very much. It hadn't been necessary to share the information about the Ro in her universe, and certainly, it hadn't created a bit of difference to the other woman except that maybe she felt a little worse about her lot. Ro ... her Ro ... had been correct. Things would have been better if they didn't have to acknowledge each other's existence.

Then, there was the information B'Elanna had received in turn about her other self, and undoubtedly, that universe's Tom Paris as well. That was so odd, she wasn't sure how she felt about it yet, suspecting it would hit her in its entirety sometime in the future, once she had the opportunity to think on it further.

Shouldering her tool kit, the Klingon headed for engineering, a little less bounce in her step, a little less light in her eyes.

Commander Scott picked up on it immediately of course, as she entered the main level. He eased over and relieved her of the tool kit.

"Here now, lassie," he said. "What's troubling you?"

B'Elanna sighed. "Sometimes I just don't know when to be quiet," she said.

"Ah, lass, we're engineers, not diplomats," he said sagely. He took her elbow. "I know just the thing that'll cheer you up."

And B'Elanna did not protest as he guided her to his quarters, or poured out the first two fingers of Scotch in a tumbler which he presented to her with rough sympathy.

"Here's to Voyager," he said. "Long may she fly."

B'Elanna felt the smooth liquor burn all the way down and smiled, holding her glass out for another. Somehow, getting drunk right now seemed to be just the ticket. "Do you make it a habit of decorating sickbay with your blood the way mine does?" Pulaski asked, smiling at the guilty look crossing Janeway's features. The two women were tucked cozily in the CMO's office, though when Pulaski had offered the captain a drink, Janeway had felt her stomach turn over and politely requested water instead. The smirk on the doctor's face at Janeway's refusal indicated that she knew exactly why the captain had opted for water rather than the fine brandy she poured for herself, but mercifully, she did not harp on it. She merely replicated the water and handed it to Janeway who sipped the ice cold liquid with relief, still feeling a bit dehydrated.

"I would like to think it's less often that I used to," Janeway responded easily. "I do have a mother hen who gets very upset when I put myself in danger. Seven, in a rage, is not something anyone wants to deal with, including me."

Pulaski smiled knowingly. "The incredibly brilliant Dr. Hansen is a bit of a wilting flower when it comes to Johnson being hurt. It's usually a race to see if she faints or if I have to sedate her, and since Kathryn insists on showing Starfleet just how good a captain she is and insists on getting herself into trouble, I've become quite used to having to treat both of them each time." She looked thoughtful. "Actually, sometimes she faints for other reasons. I had to treat her this morning."

Janeway looked up, concerned. "Why?"

Pulaski looked rather like the cat who had just swallowed the canary. All that was missing were a few yellow feathers around her mouth.

"Johnson asked her to marry her," she revealed.

Janeway was stunned. "God, I didn't think my counterpart had it in her," she said. "At least, not so soon."

"I guess you were able to get through to her," Pulaski agreed. "Anyway, after I brought Annika to, she said 'yes' and then I thought I'd have to treat the captain." She shook her head. "I will say, it's a bit unusual for someone to faint that easily. I should do a complete physical on her and see if I can find out the cause. Her civilian medical records merely recorded that she had a tendency to lose consciousness during incidents of strong emotion. There was no physical cause ever found."

"Is it indicative of something being wrong?" Janeway asked sharply.

Pulaski shook her head. "None of her previous doctors seemed to think so, and I know for a fact, that a few of the finest neurosurgeons in the Federation had a look at her on various occasions." She shrugged. "Sometimes, she just passes out, though it scares the captain witless every time she does." She eyed Janeway narrowly. "I assume that Seven does not faint."

Janeway shook her head. "Only once, but to be fair it was a situation where I almost passed out as well," she said. "We were trapped in a turbolift with Harry's wife right when she went into labor."

"I bet you were happy when your doctor arrived."

"Actually it was one of those situations where we couldn't beam him in and certainly couldn't beam her out. I had to welcome the youngest member of Voyager personally."

Pulaski laughed, the corners of her eyes crinkling. "I can just imagine you in that situation. Any other occasions?"

"Not to my knowledge. If it is a disorder of any kind in her genetic makeup, the nanoprobes have probably taken care of it." She studied her water idly. "No, Seven has other, far more disturbing methods to give me a scare now and again," Janeway said. "She has this incredibly frightening habit of using herself as a target to draw fire away from her crewmates."

Pulaski looked at her thoughtfully. "Interesting. The difference is simply amazing. I never thought I would hear Kathryn Janeway admit to being frightened by anything."

"When it comes to Seven's health and safety, I'm frightened," Janeway said with no touch of shame. "She's my wife." She paused, toying with her glass, and changed the subject. "I do have one question for you. Why didn't you turn me ... us ... in for the limerick?"

"What good would it have done?" Pulaski countered. "You certainly were efficient when you sent it through the cadets general file system. By the time it got to me, it was all over the academy. Punishing you would have just been giving you credit for it. I found an alternate way of reprimanding you for your actions."

Janeway thought about it briefly. "That's why you rode me so hard."

"I rode you hard because I knew you were a phenomenal scientist and you were too smart to be locked down in a laboratory. Your subconscious was set on that captain's chair long before you earned your first pip, even if you didn't acknowledge it out loud. You needed the challenges to make you think, to prevent you from letting arrogance get the better of your abilities. You couldn't see how learning about bimolecular physics and artificial organ replacements would help you, but then you discovered a way to use what you learned in your engineering class which, if I recall, earned you an award." Pulaski had an entirely too smug look on her face as she leaned back in her chair. "Did you think I spent all my time grading reports and preparing lessons?"

"Actually, I thought you retired to your tower where you devised all the horrific pop quizzes," Janeway responded. "Particularly that one where the plasma fire leaked from the vent, and you stood there like a Cheshire cat, watching how everyone reacted. That was diabolical."

Pulaski grinned crookedly. "You handled that one very well, as I remember," she said. "You started snapping out orders like you were born to it, and I had to laugh when that young cadet wanted to know why you were in charge ... you gave him such a look."

Janeway chuckled. "I didn't even think of myself in terms of command then," she admitted. "That didn't occur to me until I was much older."

"Ah, but I knew then that was where you would eventually end up," the doctor remarked. "You had that imposing presence, even then. It didn't surprise me at all when you became a captain ... it just surprised me that it seemed to take so long."

There was a faint sound from beneath the desk and Pulaski glanced down, frowning faintly. "So how long am I supposed to sit on this thing," she asked.

"Just until your Voyager is back in your universe," Janeway said. "Then you can ... uh, dispose of it as we discussed."

Pulaski eyed her darkly. "I'm going to regret this," she said.

"Not at all," Janeway murmured mildly as she brought the glass of water to her lips and drained it.

"The computer told me you were here."

Janeway started with surprise and Pulaski, far more composed, looked over blandly as Johnson abruptly appeared in the entrance of the medical office. "I'm sorry to interrupt," the captain said, casting both Janeway and Pulaski a bit of a suspicious look, "but I need to steal my other self away for a few moments."

"Of course," Pulaski said, raising her eyebrow. "I think we've pretty much covered everything, in any event." She glanced at Janeway who abortively put her empty glass down. "It was good to meet you, Kathryn. I hope that you have the opportunity to speak with my counterpart again. I'm sure she'll appreciate it as much as I have."

"I'll make a point of looking her up and sharing this particular adventure with her," Janeway promised. She stood up and crossed around the desk, taking the opportunity to hug the doctor tightly. "Thank you for everything."

"It was my pleasure," the Doctor said with dry humor. "And it was good working with you."

The two women shared a conspiratorial grin and then Janeway followed Johnson out of sickbay.

"I'm sure I don't even want to ask what that was all about," Johnson grumbled.

"You're right," Janeway allowed. "You don't. What's up?"

"We have a little problem," Johnson said, her voice lowered to a stern foreboding. "Apparently, both Voyagers have misplaced their engineers."

Janeway glanced at her in astonishment, then realized they were heading to deck nine.

"This probably isn't good, is it?" Janeway asked as they approached the chief engineer's quarters.

"Considering they've been in there for over four hours?" Johnson asked. "No, I don't think it's good at all." She paused. "You don't think they're...?"

"No," Janeway said a sense of certainty. "B'Elanna is very strong on fidelity. She wouldn't damage her relationship with Laren like that." Her mouth twitched. "But whatever it is, I guess we're just going to have to face it," she sighed.

"I guess so," Johnson said with the same tone of defeat in her voice. Reluctantly she pressed the chime button.

"Come in if ye dare," Scotty said jovially from the other side of the door.

The captains of Voyager entered and stood side by side, arms folded across their chests, offering matching looks of utter disapproval. Relaxing on the couch, Scotty and B'Elanna looked back at them with interest, both engineers absolutely plastered to the gills if the empty bottles scattered all over the coffee table were anything to go by.

"Captains," B'Elanna gave a droopy smile, her eyelids apparently too heavy to keep fully open. "Or am I just seeing double?" That seemed incredibly funny to both engineers and they laughed uproariously, leaning on each other for support.

"Lt. Torres," Janeway said disapprovingly.

"That one must be mine," B'Elanna whispered loudly to Scotty. "I'd recognize that disapproving tone anywhere. She can peel the paint off a ship's hull."

"Then, that would make the other one mine," he replied, gesturing in the general vicinity of the captains. "Process of elimination." He seemed rather proud of this conclusion.

"Now that we all know who we are," Janeway said icily, still sending daggers at her lieutenant.

"Oh, now, don't ye be getting all out of sorts with the young lass, Captain," Scotty said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "I was just talking to Lt. Torres about some enhancements you kin use for your warp engines."

"I appreciate your assistance Commander Scott, but I think it's time for Lt. Torres to return to her own ship."

"You mean we're not there already?" B'Elanna looked around Scotty's quarters owlishly. "Looks like a Voyager cabin."

"Aye," he agreed. "Looks like one to me, too."

Johnson took a step to the left and spoke quietly into her double's ear. "Why do I get the feeling we're going to lose this one?"

Janeway's command mask was in place, but there was a humorous glint in her eyes. "You have to brush up on your poker, Johnson. Two engineers never beat two captains."

She pressed her comm badge. "Janeway to Voyager. Lt. Commander Tuvok, please respond."

"Tuvok here, go ahead Captain."

"Mr. Tuvok, lock onto Lt. Torres' comm badge and transport her directly to her quarters."  She paused. "And perhaps you should have Lt. Ro meet her there."

There was a pause before the Vulcan replied. "Understood, Captain."

Janeway suspected there would be a recommendation from him in his next security report to prohibit drinking while dealing with a vessel from another reality. She wasn't sure that she wouldn't authorize such a recommendation either, she thought sourly as she watched her engineer dematerialize from the room. Scotty looked vaguely repentant, but she suspected that was more for the benefit of her other self, than for her.

She shot her counterpart a sardonic look, then moved outside, waiting for the other women to join her, which she did after several moments. The captain wondered what Johnson had said to her engineer in there. Or had she merely pointed him in the direction of bed with the intention of saving a reprimand for sometime when he might actually listen to it?

"You waited?" Johnson said with a certain amount of surprise.

"I ... guess I wanted to say good-bye," Janeway said. She smiled faintly. "I know that every time this happens, we leave each other with the intention of this ... crossover never happening again, yet it does. But there is also a very good chance that this will be it."

Johnson nodded. "I know," she said, sobering. She reached out and put her hand on the other captain's shoulder, squeezing lightly. "I can never thank you and Seven enough for all you've done for us."

"Consider it payment on a debt," Janeway said lightly. "What you did for us ... giving me back my life, and giving Seven a future that she could hold onto ... maybe there's a balance in the universes, after all."

"Maybe there is," Johnson agreed. She hesitated, then reached out and hugged her counterpart. "Take care of yourself, Kathryn. And take care of Seven."

"I will," Janeway promised, hugging her back. "You do the same."

"I hope that if there is a next time, we'll find you in the Alpha Quadrant," Johnson whispered.

"It won't be long now," Janeway said with certainty. They drew apart and Janeway smiled. "As always, it's been an experience."

"That it has," Johnson agreed. She smiled, bittersweet. "Good-bye, Kathryn."

"Good-bye, Kathryn." Janeway took a few steps away and tapped her comm badge. "Janeway to Voyager. One to beam up."

The final thing she saw was her own eyes looking into hers, and she hoped that Kathryn Johnson would not waste the second chance she had been given. Just as she had not wasted hers. Seven of Nine hesitated briefly, then touched the admittance chime, linking her hands behind her back as she waited for the door to be answered. It slid back to reveal Magnus Hansen, who brightened when he saw the Borg.

"Seven, I was hoping we'd get a chance to say good-bye," he said, motioning her in. From the bedroom, Erin appeared and her hazel eyes seemed to lighten to green when she saw the young woman.

"I'm very glad you had the opportunity to come over," she said. "Please, have a seat."

"I cannot stay long," Seven responded, regret touching her tone. "As you have surmised, I have come to say good-bye." She faltered, and took a breath, straightening her shoulders. "I have already made my farewells to my counterpart, and it is unlikely that we shall the opportunity to see each other again. I merely wished to thank you for the kindness you have shown both Kathryn and myself."

Magnus's craggy face softened and he reached out, hugging the Borg. "It was no kindness, Seven," he said gently. "You're our daughter ... as much as Annika is."

Absurdly pleased by such a statement, Seven smiled faintly. "Thank you," she said, holding the hug for a few seconds longer, before he released her.

Erin came over and hugged her as well, and there were tears glistening on her cheeks. "Listen, don't think that we'll never see each other again," she said huskily. "No one knows what the future will bring. In the meantime, know you'll always be in our hearts."

Seven felt tears sting her own eyes. "As you will be in mine," she said softly. She started to say something else, hesitated as she realized she couldn't think of anything to add and swallowed hard, instead.

"Wait," Magnus said, putting his hand on Seven's shoulder. "I have something for you."

Bemused, Seven watched as he disappeared briefly into the bedroom, then reappeared with a large crystal. From the depths of her mind, a memory surfaced as he handed it to her.

"I ... I remember this," she said, studying it. "I was ... four. There was a cave."

"Yes," Magnus said, eyes shining suspiciously. "Ryna III. You used to keep it on the table next to your bed."

"Because I appreciated how the light refracted through it," Seven agreed. Her heart felt very full. "Thank you, but this is Annika's..."

Magnus shook her head. "She outgrew it when she hit puberty," he said, sadness tinging his tones. "I rescued it from the disposal unit for ... sentimental reasons I guess. My little girl was growing up and I wanted to keep something of that time when a rock was all she needed to make her happy." He smiled with the bittersweet knowledge of what time does to everyone. "I think she would like you to have it. I know that I would."

"Magnus is right, Seven," Erin said. "It would mean a lot to us to know you have something that is so special."

Seven nodded, uncertain of her voice. "Thank you," she husked. "I shall ... put it on my night stand, I believe."

There was a chirp on her badge, and she firmed her jaw.

"Janeway to Seven."

"Seven here," the Borg responded.

"Voyager II is completing preparations to open the subspace rift," Janeway said. Her voice gentled perceptibly, even over the communications channel. "It's time to come home."

"Acknowledged," Seven responded. Her eyes met those of her counterpart's parents, allowing her emotion to show through her expression and receiving it in response. Erin groped for Magnus's hand and he wrapped his arm snugly around her shoulders, offering Seven a final nod. "One to beam up," she said.

The last thing she saw through the sparkles was Erin burying her face in the chest of her husband and the steady gaze from his blue eyes that she would take with her forever. She somehow managed to maintain her composure as she stepped off the transporter dais, nodding shortly to the technician manning the controls. Outside the transporter room, Janeway was striding briskly down the corridor toward her, and Seven realized that somehow, her partner had known that she would be needed.

The captain did not speak, merely drew her partner into a nearby alcove and wrapped her up in a warm embrace. Seven inhaled shakily, slipping her arm around her partner's neck, lifting the crystal clear of their bodies so that it would not dig into vulnerable flesh. She didn't know how long they stood together, but it was enough to keep her from weeping ... at least, for the time being.

Finally, Seven let her go and Janeway looked up at her, her eyes soft and grey with concern. "Darling?"

"I am ... all right," Seven allowed.

Janeway nodded. Then her eye caught sight of the crystal and she lay a single, elegant finger on the translucent stone. "Magnus gave that to you," she said with certainty.

"Yes," Seven said, not even wondering how Janeway would know that. She simply attributed it to the captain's supernatural ability to know everything that was important, just as she had known that her partner would require her presence once she returned to the ship. Seven regarded the chunk of crystal, turning it slightly as the subdued lighting from the ship made the interior gleam mysteriously, just as it had so long ago. "I believe that I shall put it in our bedroom, on my stand next to our bed."

"The perfect place," Janeway agreed gently. She tilted her head. "I need to get back to the bridge. Your place is there, too."

"Yes, Captain," Seven said quietly.

Janeway smiled a bit ruefully at her, as if sorry to require this now, but she did not hesitate either, the two women moving out of the alcove and toward the turbolift. They were quiet as they rode to the uppermost deck of the ship where, after they stepped off the lift, Seven moved quickly over to the auxiliary tactical station aft of the command level. Janeway descended to the lower deck and took a seat in the captain's chair, her face turned forward as she studied the fore viewscreen, the other Voyager hanging against the backdrop of stars like the most delicate of sculptures.

"Magnificent," Janeway whispered, so softly that Seven suspected that it was only her enhanced hearing that detected the compliment. Not even Commander Chakotay, sitting right next to the captain, indicated that he had heard anything.

"Transwarp engines are coming online," Tuvok announced, their sensors turned fully to the other vessel.

"Back us off, Tom," Janeway said. "Give them plenty of room."

"Aye, Captain," Lt. Paris responded, his hands moving over the helm as he activated the ship's engines, reversing thrusters to back the ship away from where Voyager II was preparing to open the rift between universes.

"Sensors detect energy being channeled through the fore deflector array," Harry Kim announced. "The rift is opening."

From this angle, the view was indeed, magnificent, Seven thought, alternating her attention between her console and the viewscreen like everyone else on the bridge. Only the captain and Chakotay were completely free to watch without being distracted by data readouts. The tear in space was actually visible, appearing where the golden beam from Voyager II's deflector array terminated. Unlike when the other ship had arrived, there was no threat or the sense that things were moving too quickly for the bridge crew to appreciate the scientific accomplishment occurring in front of them.

"Conduit to other universe is secure," Harry noted.

There was a breathless moment as they watched the starship sail gracefully through the opening, like a ghost ship from the mists of time returning from whence it came, then the rip sealed into a solid, glowing line and completely disappeared. There was a sound then, as if the entire bridge crew had exhaled at exactly at the same second, and the reverence they felt permeated the atmosphere, letting the moment stretch on long after it might have passed in other circumstances.

When Janeway finally spoke to break the quiet, it was in an incredibly gentle voice.

"Set course to the Alpha Quadrant."

"Aye, Captain," Tom responded, equally subdued. "Course laid in."

"Engage."

Seven swallowed hard, then logged off duty from her auxiliary tactical station. Quietly, she picked up the crystal which she had placed on the rail, then moved to the turbolift, exiting from the bridge without notice.

She felt very strange as she made her way to her quarters, the aftermath of this adventure seeming so odd to her, in a way that she had not felt before in her life. Usually, the termination of a mission brought a completion of sorts, a closure, even when it had not ended with complete success. This encounter however, only made her feel empty, as if she had lost something precious and unique.

Jake seemed to sense his mistress's state of mind and came over quietly, gently nudging his head beneath her hand. She patted him gently, scratching behind his ears, then moved into the bedroom where she carefully placed the crystal on the stand beside her bed. Positioning the stone to catch the light, she watched the glimmer of illumination play within the depths of it, lost in thoughts which were disjointed, unable to focus on any one concept for more than a few seconds.

From the outer room, the soft hiss of the door reached her ears, but she did not move, and the presence that entered the bedroom behind her seemed to reach out and surround her long before the physical touch of Kathryn's arms wrapped around her waist.

For long moments they stood there together, Seven closing her eyes as Janeway held her, the captain pressing her cheek against her back.

"Kathryn?" Seven whispered finally.

"Yes, darling?"

"This is very difficult."

Janeway didn't answer right away, though she tightened her embrace on Seven's waist, and the Borg knew she was taking her time to find the best words to convey her thoughts. When she finally spoke, there was a bit of a tremor to her voice, not
for herself, Seven understood, but for her partner's current sense of fragility.

"I think it will be for some time," Janeway said with great tenderness, but not shying away from the truth either. "Maybe even for the rest of your life in some ways."

Seven nodded, swallowing hard. "That is my conclusion as well," she said. She took a deep breath, and turned around, looking down into the beloved face of her spouse. "It never ends."

Janeway's face was soft and vulnerable in the subdued lighting. "No," she said. "It doesn't. The ties that families place upon your soul are the strongest of any you will ever have. They stretch from the parents of our parents to us to the children our children shall have. Sometimes you can stretch the tie so thin you can scarcely feel it, but it can never be destroyed. Not totally."

Seven considered that as Janeway waited patiently, then dipped her head in acknowledgment.

"It is hard," she said slowly. "But I think that I would rather have those ties, with all the emotions, including any pain that it might include, than to be without them at all."

Janeway smiled gently. "I would, too, my darling," she replied. "Especially when my strongest tie is to you."

Epilogue I

"Where are you getting all this?" Johnson asked in astonishment as she watched yet another box come through the door. "My god, no one travels like this on a starship."

"I do," Annika said, ignoring the tone as she shoved the box into the captain's hands. "That goes in the bedroom."

"There's already four boxes in the bedroom," Kathryn complained even as she turned to carry yet another into the rapidly shrinking room.

Hansen had just returned with the last box when Johnson's voice cut through the air in a timbre she had never heard before.

"What the hell is that?"

"If it's the box with the clothes stuffed in it, don't open it," Annika called back.

"Unless your clothes have claws and hiss I think it's something else," Johnson said.

"What?" Hansen entered the bedroom to see a specimen cage sitting at the bottom of the closet, dark eyes surrounded by white staring back at them.

"What is that?" Johnson repeated.

"It's not mine," the blonde woman said, moving closer and kneeling down in front of the cage. "Didn't Pulaski say she had dropped off a housewarming present while we were on duty?" She tilted her head as she regarded the creature. "It's a cute little thing, don't you think?"

"It's the ugliest thing I've ever seen," Johnson said.

"How can you say that? Here kitty, kitty, kitty." Hansen held her finger out, ready to pull it back if necessary. When a pink tongue shot out and licked the tip of it, she gave a short laugh. "It's friendly enough. Oh look, this might tell us something." Lying on the floor next to the cage was a bag filled with what obviously were toys and items for the animal.

"I can't believe Pulaski did this," Johnson said grumpily, sitting on the bed and glaring at the scene before her. Annika looked avidly at a padd she found in the bag while her free hand was working the catch on the cage. "Oh no, you're not letting that blue pile of fur out."

"Dr. Pulaski didn't give this to us, she just kept it until we had settled our living arrangements. It's actually a wedding gift from Janeway and Seven," Annika revealed, reading from the padd's tiny viewscreen. "It's called a B'Rethna and they included all the data they have on it as well as its feeding requirements and habits." She looked at the padd again, then reached into the bag. "This is a 'Biological Waste Removal Device' along with the schematics for it. Nice, it uses some Borg technology." She looked over at Johnson. "Do you realize if we reproduce these we could make a fortune? We'd eliminate the number one reason people don't like pets." The impressed physicist smiled at the device before setting it down on the deck. "Very clever, Seven."

"Bringing biological organisms on board without the proper clearance is against regulations," Johnson snapped.

Hansen ignored her and held up two cryogenic tubes. "It seems you have to neuter them right away or they release some kind of pheromone that makes everyone around them want to mate." She referred to the notes on the padd. "Apparently they had both a male and a female on the ship, and when their doctor neutered them, he stored their reproductive material in case there was a need to breed more in the future. Seven even included half of their supply."

"Absolutely not. Molly Malone is a very territorial dog. She will not tolerate that ... that cross between a weasel and a ... a ... an alley cat in her territory."

"Well, your dog will just have to learn to share," Annika said firmly, releasing the catch on the cage and happily pulling the blue furball onto her lap. "Oh, it even purrs," she said happily.

"We cannot keep a pet on Voyager," Kathryn tried again.

"Why not? You gave them Jake." Hansen gently stroked the soft fur. "I think it's a wonderful and thoughtful gift. What should we name it?"

"Specimen to be delivered to the nearest class-M planet and dropped off?" Johnson suggested, earning a reproachful look from her lover.

"What about Bluebell?"

"No."

"Kitty?"

"It's not a cat."

"Fluffy?"

Johnson just rolled her eyes.

"All right, all right. How about Blinky?"

"What about Stowaway? That way I can make it walk the plank." Johnson's grin quickly faded when ice blue eyes shot daggers at her. Clearly the good captain was not going to win this argument.

Annika pressed several buttons on the padd. "Her name is Libby according to this."

"Libby?"

"Libby," Hansen said firmly, stroking the underside of the B'Rethna's chin.

Johnson sighed. "Fine. But it's not allowed on the furniture or in the bedroom."

"She's already in the bedroom and I'd like to see you keep her off the furniture," Annika challenged. Libby wiggled off her lap and disappeared beneath the bed. "Help me up."

"With pleasure." Johnson held out a hand and pulled the scientist up. "So where's my reward?"

"For helping me up?" Annika tilted her head and smiled, recognizing the look in her lover's eyes.

"For letting you keep that..." Johnson cast a glance in the direction of the bed. "...Libby."

"Well, if a reward is what you need, I'm sure I can..." Annika opened Johnson's tunic and pushed it off the captain's shoulders as she kissed her throat and jaw provocatively. "...come up with something..." Her hands slipped under the waistband of her lover's pants and began to slowly push them down, taking the underwear with them. "...that will satisfy you. Especially now that I'm all moved in."

"I'm sure you can," Johnson replied, slightly surprised at how quickly she was being seperated from her uniform, but not about to complain in the slightest. Instead, her hands were busy trying to remove Annika's uniform in return. "I might even have an idea or two myself."

"Oh, you do, do you?"

"Yes, and as a matter of fact I have a surprise for you," Johnson muttered, nibbling her ear. "Something I'm sure you'll enjoy."

"I like surprises," Hansen said. "Giving and receiving. I have a surprise for you too."

"My present requires you being naked and in our bed," the captain said, gently guiding the younger woman to the edge of the bed and helping her divest herself of the rest of her clothes.

"My favorite kind of present," Annika said, allowing herself to be pushed back onto the bed. While Johnson was removing boots and her trousers, Hansen rolled over and opened the drawer of the night stand on her side of the bed, pulling out her surprise unobtrusively.

Keeping her back to her partner to obscure her actions, she reached down to affix the device to herself, gasping with surprise as the orifice immediately covered her tiny erection, the securing bands holding it in place. She had already programmed the necessary instructions into the remote as to color and size, trusting that Johnson would also prefer the 'Human male' mode that Seven revealed that Janeway did, so no further input was required unless the captain had her own particular preference that Annika was unaware of. Pleased with how quickly it went on as well as how securely it was attached, she rolled over on her back, the seven inch phallus jutting up magnificently from her nether region.

Johnson, who had her back to her partner as she did something, finally turned around, and Annika's eyes dropped immediately to her lover's auburn triangle ... to see a matching erection thrusting out proudly from her groin, bobbling slightly from her movement.

There was a stunned silence, then the captain put her hands on her hips, staring at Annika in absolute bemusement.

"Well, this isn't going to work," she said mildly.

Annika hesitated ... then she howled, completely unable to resist. Within seconds, Johnson had joined her, collapsing on the bed beside her where both women laughed until they cried, arms wrapped around their ribs, gasping and snorting and generally carrying on like they were intoxicated. Whenever one of them managed to gain some form of control, she had only to glance down in the general vicinity of the two simulated penises which were waving about without direction or purpose, and she was off again. Finally ... finally ... they managed to bring the hilarity down to a few helpless giggles, but only because it actually hurt to continue, their sides aching, their eyes wet, both of them completely out of breath. They lay side by side on the bed, doing their best to ignore anything below their necks.

"Oh, god," Johnson muttered, her hands over her eyes. "Seven told you."

"You bet," Annika said. "I'm guessing Janeway told you." She wiped the tears from her face, unable to control another chuckle. "You realize, one of us is going to have to give hers up. I mean, honestly, what will we do with two?"

"I don't even want to think about that." A pause. "What will we do, flip for it?"

"Got a coin?"

"Not on me," Johnson said, and the pair started to laugh again.

"I have an idea," Annika said finally, turning on to her side, her elbow supporting her as she faced her lover. "Tell me, what was the first thing you fantasized when Janeway first described the damned thing?"

Johnson smiled, her eyes growing thoughtful. "I guess..." she started, paused, thought about it some more, then added, "you have to understand we were in the ready room. She had told me about something she and Seven did..."

"The desk?"

"You heard?" Johnson peered out of the corner of the eye. "Anyway, I could imagine you lying on it ... in fact, every time I look at it now, that's what I imagine."

Annika nodded thoughtfully. "Reasonable," she said. "My fantasy was you taking me up against the hull ... assuming you could get the angle right. So the solution is obvious."

"It is?" Johnson said blankly.

"Yes," Annika remarked, placing her index finger against her partner's chin. "Your fantasy is to take me, while mine is to be taken by you. Obviously, for our first time, we should indulge this."

"Oh," Johnson said. She smiled. "All right."

Annika reached for the remote, removing her device and returning it to its box. Then she rolled over once more and regarded her lover. "Just don't get carried away," she added in a warning tone.

Johnson sobered, cupping the scientist's cheek in her palm. "I'm not going to hurt you again, my darling," she whispered. "Not in any way. I swear that to you."

Annika kissed her gently. "I know," she said. "I was joking. It's just that you know how you are when you're starting something new. You just get so ... involved."

"I'll take my time," Johnson promised. She smiled faintly.

"All the time in the universes in fact." Epilogue II

"I wanted to commend you on all of your hard work on Voyager II," Janeway said, gesturing to the empty chair next to her desk. "I know you don't normally work around the clock, but your efforts were evident in the morale and mental state of that crew. I probably should have told you before this, but ... well, you know how busy things have been the past couple of weeks."

"Thank you, Captain," Sek responded, once she had found her seat. The diminutive blonde looked sincerely grateful. "I appreciate your comments, regardless of their timing."

"I also wanted you to know that I'll be placing a commendation in your file for your work," the captain continued. "Dealing with over a hundred crewmen in less than a week is quite a task ... not to mention the first day you were busy helping Dr. Pulaski and the Doctor with patients in Sickbay."

Sek was pleased and it showed on her face. "Thank you again, Captain. I'm glad I was able to be of service. It has provided me with a much greater understanding of post-battle fatigue and stress which will no doubt prove useful with our own Voyager crew."

"I do have one question, though," Janeway said, now that she thought Sek was relaxed and she could pounce. "Did you have anything to do with Dr. Pulaski making me responsible for when Captain Johnson could resume command of her ship?"

Sek didn't flicker.

"I'm not allowed to violate the confidentiality of any patients," she said. "No matter what universe they come from."

"Picking up more habits from B'Elanna, I see," Janeway said, resigned. "Always know what rules to hide behind. Very well, that will be all."

"Yes, Captain."

"Oh, and Sek?"

"Yes, Captain?"

"Anything you may have been told by Captain Johnson? Forget every word." She gave the hologram a force ten Janeway glare.

"Yes, Captain," Sek replied obediently, thought she only flinched mildly at the glare, and Janeway wondered, with horror, if she was losing her touch. She was about to pursue it when the comm system interrupted her.

"Chakotay to Captain Janeway," he said. "Sensors are detecting a rift forming off our port bow. It matches the quantum signature of Voyager II."

"God, they only left two weeks ago," Janeway muttered, then added in a louder voice as she got to her feet; "I'm on my way."

Sek followed her out to the bridge, the hologram staring curiously at the fore viewscreen which revealed a tear in space ,which was rapidly healing, leaving behind a small, silvery cylinder which floated innocuously in the vacuum.

"It's a photon torpedo casing," Tuvok reported from tactical as Janeway took a seat in the command chair. "Sensors reveal communications equipment inside."

"Transport it on board," Janeway ordered.

"The rift has now closed," Lt. Kim said. "No sign of the other Voyager."

"Apparently they just wanted to pass on some news," Janeway said, torn between pleasure and apprehension. Heaven only knew whether it had been a desperate attempt at a warning ... or just an attempt to communicate some good news. She raised her head. "Seven of Nine, this Captain Janeway. Meet me in transporter room one."

"Acknowledged."

It was not long before they had the torpedo's casing transferred to astrometrics where Seven figured out how to open it. Apparently, the other universe had not wanted to take any chance that it might not come through in the same general vicinity as Voyager. It had included a beacon as well as a self-destruct warning if anyone but a specific individual attempted to open it. The Borg discovered it was her ... or rather, Dr. Hansen's ... genetic coding which unsealed the locking mechanism. Janeway waited impatiently as Seven cracked the seal and drew out the communications packet.

"What do they say?" she asked anxiously as the Borg downloaded the data into her console.

Seven brought the various messages up on the large screens which dominated the astrometrics lab. The primary one was given a place of prominence, and the two women listened and watched avidly as Captain Johnson gave her report.

The nanoprobes from Janeway and Seven's universe had been an unqualified success. Rather than present the information to Starfleet command and be stymied by various arguments over why such an idea couldn't work, wouldn't work, shouldn't work, Johnson had simply implemented the modifications to her Voyager as soon as possible. The ship subsequently ran into four more Jem'Hadar attack squadrons before reaching Deep Space Five, handling them with almost terrifying ease with phasers that only had to strike a glancing blow to the Dominion shields before the vessels started to malfunction.

Those were the findings they presented to the scientists and Starfleet brass on DS5, though the other Starfleet captains who had ships docked at the starbase didn't wait for the reply. As soon as the results Voyager had achieved were made clear to them, they started modifying their own vessels, moving quickly and decisively while the trio of Hansens went from vessel to vessel, personally giving the engineering teams the specs and helping them implement it. After all, it wasn't the padd pushers fighting this war, it was the ships of the line, and once the captains knew they had a weapon which would grant them an immediate advantage in any fight with the Jem'Hadar, they were quick to apply it. When the USS Enterprise, outfitted with the quick modifications, promptly went out and reduced an entire Breen fleet to so much junk floating through space less than twenty-four hours later, the Cardassians quickly saw which way the war was going and turned on their Dominion allies.

Starfleet Command on Earth didn't end up approving anything so much as trying desperately to catch up to what the captains at the front were already putting in place. Before they had gotten over the shock, the war was over.

"Heavens," Janeway muttered. "When you and Dr. Hansen put your heads together to come up with a weapon, you certainly don't fool around."

"There are personal messages here, as well," Seven noted, reducing the first window and bringing up another. "Text only." She began to smile as she read it. "Actually, this one from Captain Johnson to you could be construed as more of a threat."

Janeway grinned crookedly.

"Ah, well," she said. "I'm pretty sure that once Libby settles in, they can replace the furniture and it'll be fine."

"Nonetheless," Seven noted. "Perhaps we should make an effort not to cross universes any time in the near future. I am positive that the actions Captain Johnson implied she would do to you once she saw you again could not possibly be good for your future well-being." She paused. "Particularly the third suggestion."

"Even if it were at all physically possible," Janeway agreed. She tilted her head. "Honestly, I told her that was what I had you for." Since they were alone in astrometrics, the captain took advantage to pull Seven into her embrace. "You're all I need."

"You exaggerate," the Borg said, sinking her fingers into soft auburn hair. "But I understand."

"I'm glad you do," Janeway said. "Now, why don't you do your duty and give your wife a kiss?"

"Is that an order, Captain?" Seven teased, bringing her lips close only to pull back at the last instant.

"Absolutely."

"I will comply," the Borg said, putting all of her love and emotion into the kiss, smiling to herself when she felt the captain's legs buckle.

Janeway took several deep breaths. "You are such a wonderful kisser," she said, not for the first time.

"Then perhaps you should reward me for such a skill," Seven suggested, reaching out with her left hand to shut down the console. "It is 1630 hours. We are off duty now."

"And what exactly did you have in mind?"

"I prefer to show you," Seven said, guiding them toward the door. "Many times," she promised.

"Oh my," Janeway said, unable to release her hold around the Borg's waist. "Darling if you keep talking like that, we'll never make it to our quarters."

"There is of course your yacht in the hanger bay," Seven suggested. "It's closer, and the aeroshuttle has yet to be crossed off our list."

"I don't think ... mph." Janeway's protest was silenced by another one of those wonderful kisses as was her resistance. "The yacht, hmm?"

"The yacht," Seven said, reaching up under the captain's tunic to cup her wife's breasts, fondling them briefly as she gave her another kiss. A breathless captain grabbed her hands, pushing them away for the time being, keenly aware that they were in public. Which is why they had to get to someplace less public very quickly.

"What are we waiting for?" Janeway asked huskily when their lips parted.

Seven slipped her arm firmly around her partner's waist and nudged her in the direction of the turbolift.

"Not a thing," she replied.

"Not anything at all, my Kathryn."

The End

•  This is the 34th story in the Just Between series.

• It takes place after the events in Just Between Families and also with the understanding that events similar to those in The Collective, Ashes to Ashes, and Child's Play occurred in the previous month (or so) of  the JB universe.

• It was posted March 31st, 2000.

Just Between Fire & Ice
G. L. Dartt

Seven of Nine, late of the Borg Collective, concentrated on her engineering array and tried very hard not to look at her spouse of over a year who was piloting the Delta Flyer. At the moment, Captain Kathryn Janeway was not particularly pleased with her astrometrics officer, which was fair, because for the past week or so, Seven of Nine had not been particularly pleased with her captain. Now they did their jobs in a professional, if chilly fashion, and tried not to allow their personal tension interfere with the task at hand.

"Long range sensors are indicating the approach of a wave front," Seven noted. "It would be prudent to divert our course by seven degrees."

Janeway glanced at the data on her screen, then shook her head. "That will add two days to our return to Voyager," she said shortly, almost dismissively. "The Flyer is able to withstand a wave front of this magnitude."

Seven exhaled slowly, resisting the urge to grind her teeth. "Captain, there are indications of some unusual readings within the wave itself," she said. "It's possible that they could damage certain systems of the shuttle."

"Verify," Janeway said, refusing to take that at face value.

"That is not possible with this equipment," Seven explained, her eyes narrowing. "Caution dictates that we divert course."

Janeway paused and Seven could see the muscle jumping in her jaw. "Speculate. What could happen to the Delta Flyer?" she asked.

Seven frowned. "I do not care to speculate without more extensive data," she said stubbornly.

Janeway inhaled sharply, aggravation evident in the set of her head, and Seven took a certain pleasure in it, knowing she was the cause.

"Then we'll go through," the captain said, in a tone that brokered no dissension.

"Very well," Seven said evenly.

"It did not require your approval," Janeway noted with some heat.

"As you will."

Janeway opened her mouth, hesitated, then closed it with a snap, fuming at her inability to get the last word in. Seven returned her attention to her board, monitoring the data crossing over her viewscreen. There was a part of her that realized they both were being totally irrational in their actions, but another part ... the emotional part ... was determined not to back down. Kathryn was being completely unreasonable, and Seven absolutely refused to apologize or give any indication that she was finding this whole situation completely intolerable. Not until Janeway did.

"Time to intercept wave front, ten minutes," the Borg noted icily.

"Maintaining course," Janeway said deliberately, all sorts of provocation simmering beneath the even tones.

Seven shot a glare her way, but did not respond. The wave front was now visible through the front viewport, a gaseous, roiling mass of glowing greens and blues. Seven watched the readings from the sensors stream steadily through her console, and perhaps it was her anger that kept her from recognizing what they portended any earlier than she did.

"Captain," she said, voice rising, putting aside their antagonism completely in her moment of alarm. "There are magnetic strands threading through the cloud."

Conflict forgotten, Janeway did not hesitate. "Hard about," she said, her hands flying over the helm.

But it was too late.

The Delta Flyer was abruptly thrown sideways as it impacted with the closest of the strands that Seven had not detected in time. Lights flickered as both women were jolted roughly about, and there was a sickening sensation of weightlessness as the integrity field and the shields both failed briefly and returned, lessened considerably in intensity. Seven's hands flew over the board, now festooned with red from the various malfunctions.

Janeway's face was strained as she fought the helm controls, trying to bring the vessel back on a steady course, but it was an impossible attempt, the tiny ship being thrown about in the wave as if it were a pinball in one of the arcade games that Tom Paris was so fond of. Seven knew if both women had not been strapped in ... as Seven had stubbornly insisted upon when they left Varkus IV as per protocol ... they would undoubtedly be suffering severe injuries by this point. As it were, Seven felt the straps cut cruelly into her flesh, and she could only imagine what her spouse was experiencing with her fully Human frame not enhanced by Borg metal and nanoprobes.

It seemed an eternity before they were spit out into the vacuum of normal space, the cloud seeming almost contemptuous as it left the damaged craft behind, continuing on its inexorable way through the heavens.

"Captain?" Seven said, her ears ringing from where her head had slammed into the bulkhead.

"Report," Janeway said, with but a fraction of the command whip in her tone.

Seven swallowed hard against the bile which had risen in her throat from the shaking they had undergone and scanned her board. The news was not good and she took a deep breath to prepare her response.

"Structural integrity field is down to 15%," she recited. "Warp engines are off line and emergency life support is activated. Hull stress has exceeded tolerance on the port nacelle as well as the starboard support. No breaches in progress but the struts need additional bracing once extended for warp speed. The vessel is operating on emergency reserves only and the energy stores have been drained to 33%."

Janeway did not answer right away, still working on her board, and Seven waited uneasily.

"We're too banged up to try for Voyager," the captain said finally, her voice hard. "We need to set down somewhere and make repairs, or at least, try to survive until they come for us."

"Understood," Seven said. "Releasing distress beacon now. Scanning for class M planets."

The silence stretched out and finally, Janeway shot an angry look over her shoulder.

"Go ahead," she said hotly.

Baffled, Seven glanced at her.

"What?"

"Tell me that I should have avoided the wave front," the captain said, anger threatening to boil over. "You've been gleefully informing me of all the rest of my shortcomings this week. I'd hate to think you'd fail to reach perfection by missing this one."

Wounded, Seven stared down at her board. "I did not intend to say any such thing," she said frostily. Especially since a part of her felt responsible for the whole situation. Had she let her anger at Janeway get in the way of doing her job properly? Why hadn't she insisted that they not enter the wave front?

There was a chirp from her console. "I have a possibility," she added in her best Borg voice, devoid of any emotional inflection at all. "It is the third planet of the only system within reach. However, it is in its glacial period. We would need to land at the equator to have any chance at long term survival."

"Laying in a course," Janeway said, her voice unnaturally even.

The ship shuddered as the captain channeled power into the impulse engines, but it did not fly apart, and Seven released the breath she did not even realize she had been holding. Her temples throbbed, both from the blow to her head and the stress she was experiencing. Somehow, she thought she would be adapting to the situation a great deal easier if she did not feel this distance between herself and the captain.

If only Kathryn was not so ... obstinate, she thought coldly, keeping a close eye on the energy output, ready to override at any sign of an overload. The ship creaked and groaned disturbingly as they limped toward the star system, but the integrity field held, and wherever she could find the spare power, she bolstered the weakest spots.

The trip through the outer system was perilous, Janeway having to steer well clear of any meteors or debris that would test an already strained hull. The sound of groaning metal and muffled hisses boded badly for sustained life support, and they sent shivers down Seven's spine as she was kept constantly busy, channeling power to shore up various weak spots that seemed to keep popping up with every passing minute. The hours passed with agonizing slowness, the conversation between the two kept to an absolute minimum of exchanged technical data and nothing beyond.

Finally, they reached the outer atmosphere of the planet, and Janeway shot a look over her shoulder.

"This is going to be rough, so strap in tight," she ordered. "I don't know if the hull will stand up to re-entry. We probably won't make it down in one piece."

Seven glanced at her, and in the instant that the women's eyes met, everything else was forgotten, their gaze holding in a timeless exchange that transcended the strife they had been experiencing in the past week or so, mutual silent apologies and regrets foremost in their expressions. The wordless stare said far more than all their recent recriminations and carelessly hurtful comments, and Seven felt her chest ache acutely. How could she have let anything interfere with her feelings for her spouse?

Tears stung the Borg's eyes. "I love you, my Kathryn," she said softly, no longer caring who was right or wrong, or what position was the correct one on the issue which had come between them.

Janeway swallowed hard, her throat moving visibly in the murky illumination. "I love you," she whispered, "Seven of Mine."

The captain held the look between them a little longer, her blue-grey eyes shimmering briefly, then nodded once before turning back to the helm. "Let's do it," she said, her voice hardening again. Her hands moved quickly over her board, keying in the constant corrections and course changes that the ship required. "Entering upper atmosphere."

Immediately, there was a jolt and things began to happen very quickly. The ship began to tumble, tossed around like a leaf in a stream, and it was all Seven could do to maintain any kind of focus on her console. Janeway was yelling orders but it was impossible to hear her over the pounding the ship was taking. The Borg did realize that any hope of a controlled descent through the atmosphere was impossible, and she kept routing power through the thrusters and the shields as best she could, trusting that her partner would do the best she could with them at the helm.

Then far too soon, they were breaking through the grey of the clouds into a snow storm, the visibility almost nil, and Janeway bit off a short curse that did manage to be heard amid the rumblings and screams of stressed metal.

"We're going down!"

Seven braced herself, wishing desperately that she could do the same for her partner, and wondering absurdly what the vessel looked like from below, screaming through the sky like a falling star. Frantically, Janeway attempted to maintain a level heading, looking around for someplace to land, or at least, to crash with as minimal further damage as possible. The temperature rose dramatically as the friction from the atmosphere heated the hull of the vessel, and Seven found it difficult to breath in the choking heat.

The ship bounced once, a bang that made the Borg's teeth crash together, then it must have hit a downslope of some sort, skidding through drifts of snow that billowed about as it became nothing more than an uncontrollable toboggan along an ice field. Seven's detached, logical mind allowed for the fact that perhaps it was that angle of descent which was currently keeping them intact, translating their momentum into a helpless skid across the ice and snow. Had they hit a flat spot, or worse, an incline, they simply would have disintegrated, exploding in a fireball of metal, circuitry and organic tissue.

Then, there was something black and large looming up in front of them, and with a final jolt that reverberated to her very molecules, Seven's head slammed into the bulkhead next to her and darkness descended, total and complete.

Captain Janeway groaned, her eyes fluttering as both consciousness and discomfort returned. She hurt in more places than she thought was humanly possible, but that very pain brought with it a sort of triumph. If she ached, she was alive. At least that was the theory she was working on at the moment. Although not a proponent of any particular belief in life beyond death, nonetheless, she had a firm desire that any such sort of existence would be devoid of mortal frailties such as pain.

She was crumpled over the helm, her face pressed against the cold, inactive touch screen, as a sort of haze filled the air around her. She tried to move, gasping at the sharp agony that lanced from her ribcage. Probably cracked, she noted dazedly, if not broken entirely. No doubt, there were internal injuries as well. She turned her head gingerly, seeing a white cloud issue from her lips. It was exceptionally cold and her breath crystallized in the air, creating a frosty cloud. Through the fore viewport, she could see the boulder which had brought them up short, the nose of the Delta Flyer folded around it, disturbed clots of snow and ice breaking up the otherwise stark, white wall of a steady, wind-whipped snowstorm.

Obviously, all the systems had completely failed, and it was imperative that she get a few of them operable again before she died of exposure. She didn't think the vessel had managed to come down as close to the equator as she had initially planned, but obviously, they weren't in the northern regions or they would have already frozen solid.

That brought the plight of her partner into sharp immediacy, and she struggled to turn around, to see what had happened to Seven. The Borg was still strapped to her chair, slumped in her restraints, blood oozing sluggishly from a slash along the side of her head, a crimson stream caking her face all the way down to her black sweater. Janeway's breath came in sobs as she dug a medkit out from the closest compartment and pried herself out of her chair. Her left arm pressed tight to her side, she stumbled over to the Borg.

"Annika," she said weakly, activating a medical tricorder, running a probe over the young woman. The readings were not particularly good, nor did Seven respond to her name, but it certainly wasn't as bad as it could have been. Janeway was keenly aware that one or both of them could have, and probably should have, been killed in this crash. Why had she insisted on going through the wave front? Why didn't she listen to Seven when the Borg had warned her not to? Was her pride so damned important to her that she would let it affect her better judgment? Was her beloved partner going to die from such arrogance?

As she went over the variety of injuries her partner had, she found that she was talking to Seven, not really paying attention to what she was saying.

"I expect you to come through this," she commanded. "You can't fight with me for two weeks and then just up and die on me without giving me the last word. That's completely unacceptable."

She got out the bone knitter and went over all the fractures her partner had managed to acquire, then did the same for herself, the immediate relief from the cracked ribs almost enough to make her cry. The dermal regenerator closed the deep cut on Seven's head along with the one that Janeway had suffered on her leg. The captain knew that they had been fortunate not to have bled to death in the aftermath, the cold having aided somewhat with the clotting. The rest of the scrapes and bruises she left, knowing that the ship needed to be tended if the couple intended to keep on surviving. Any minor contusions would have to heal themselves with time. It did pain her greatly that she could do nothing about Seven's concussion or the internal bleeding beyond administering a hypospray of broad spectrum antibiotics, hoping that the young woman's nanoprobes would take care of the worst of it. She didn't try to move her, leaving the Borg strapped into the chair while she wrapped a couple of Starfleet-issued thermal-reflective blankets around her, the thin, silver material keeping Seven's body heat from leeching away into the surrounding air which was rapidly chilling as the temperature outside made its presence felt.

Janeway checked Seven's board, cursing as she saw it was completely dead. She knew that for them to be losing heat so rapidly, there had to be a hull breach somewhere. When she couldn't find it inside, she knew it was probably on the outer hull where she couldn't see it which meant going out into what looked like a major blizzard. Fortunately, the atmosphere of the planet was breathable, and assuming no viral or bacteriological element existed which would require a more detailed analysis, they would be able to replenish their air supply.

Not that any bacteria existed out there, she thought as she glanced through the fore viewport, seeing the snow peppering the transparency, propelled by a harsh wind that could be heard moaning about the thick hull. Any self respecting virus would promptly shrivel up and die in such horrid conditions. She took another look at her partner, her pale narrow features smeared with blood, and felt her heart twinge painfully in her chest. Swiftly, she leaned down and brushed her lips over Seven's forehead.

"Stay with me, darling," she ordered.

She picked her way back to the aft compartment, stepping over loose parts and equipment which had broken free during the crash, and avoiding the dangling wires which had burst from the ceiling. In a locker, she found the necessary cold weather gear, and pulled on the heavy padded jacket over her uniform. The hood of the coat was lined with artificial fur which was threaded liberally with thin heating strands meant to warm the air before it reached the wearer's face. After fastening it securely, she drew on the tough, yet flexible gloves, then picked up a tool kit before entering the air lock. She had to cycle the controls manually, gritting her teeth against the strain on her already stressed muscles as she grasped the stubborn handle.

The wind cut through her like a knife as she stepped out onto the planet's surface, pelting her with small snowflakes that stung as they impacted her skin. The lined hood kept her face from freezing, but it could not melt the flakes before they hit, the wind propelling them with such force that it was like being constantly peppered with sand. She gasped and drew out her tricorder, making a circuit of the tiny vessel which looked far worse from the outside.

Both nacelles, along with most of the underside of the vessel, had been ripped from the ship and were undoubtedly left somewhere far behind in the white obscurity. Even as Janeway watched, the deep ruts created by the Delta Flyer, where it had plowed its way to a stop, were being obscured by fresh snow. She supposed they were fortunate the nacelles hadn't exploded when they were torn free, though it would have been a very quick death in the blast of searing radioactive heat.

Discovering a tear in the hull along the starboard side, she used a laser from the tool kit to patch it. It would not hold up to space flight, of course, nor even any kind of long distant atmospheric flight, but it would keep the interior insulation secure while they were on the ground.

The next task was to find some sort of power. Somewhere through all that grey cloud and blinding snow was the planet's sun, and Starfleet vessels were designed to utilize that energy. Indeed, as many before her had found out, and as many undoubtedly would after her, sometimes it was all survivors of a crash had to draw upon.

It required her to climb up onto the roof of the Delta Flyer, however, and that was no easy task in this weather. Cursing, she slipped and slid, trying to find purchase on the handholds, and finally ended up using the boulder at the front to boost herself. She crawled unsteadily over the roof, brushing away the snow which had buried the top, aware that if she fell off, at least her landing would be relatively cushioned by the drifts starting to pile up around the vessel. Once she finished clearing the snow, she repaired one of the transfer units with a spanner, and with hands now shaking from the cold, activated the solar absorption panels.

It was with relief that she saw the line of lights indicating full activation, as a small deflector field automatically activated when the solar grid was engaged, keeping the snow from settling on the energy absorbing panels. However, she knew she would probably have to get up here again the next day to chip away any ice that formed from the melting snow around the edges. A check with the tricorder revealed that the energy, as minimal as it was, was already trickling through to the storage batteries within the emergency reserves and bringing the ship's power back on line. The temperature had dropped even further as she worked, the light growing duller as night approached, and she was shivering as she tried the ventral hatch which was jammed shut. Obviously she was not going to be able to enter or exit the ship through the roof as she had hoped. Cursing, she slid down the front slope of the ship and struggled through the drifts to the aft part of the vessel, cycling through the airlock a second time into the aft compartment where she dropped the tool kit on the deck. Although the snow did not melt at all, at least it and she were now out of the cruelly biting wind.

It was dark inside, the vessel still lacking enough energy to spare for interior lighting and the weak, fretful sputters from the emergency lighting were worse than useless, casting odd shadows where there shouldn't be any. Tripping more than once over debris as she made her way forward, the captain realized that she had never before been on a ship which had experienced such a complete and catastrophic systems failure. She wondered if Tom Paris's construction had a design flaw, then reminded herself that the tough little ship had managed to remain intact long enough to get them down alive. Considering the alternative, she should be grateful that lack of power was currently the worst she had to deal with. She dug out some candles and a lighter from the emergency stores in a forward compartment and lit two of the fat little cylinders. Not only would they grant some light, they would also provide some much needed warmth while she worked on improving their situation.

She quickly checked on Seven, examining her intently in the dim light. The Borg had not worsened, but there was no sign that she had regained consciousness while the captain had been gone, either. Janeway tenderly kissed her spouse on the forehead again, as much to comfort herself than because she thought Seven could feel it, then went to work on the ops panel. It took a lot of rerouting of circuitry, but finally she was able to get some heat issuing from the vents, along with activating the distress beacon. In a vacuum, getting rid of heat was a much larger problem for space ships than keeping the interior warm. Air conditioning was actually much easier to provide to the shuttle's interior. Janeway shot another look out the viewport and grimaced. This whole damned planet is an air conditioner, she thought sourly.

She stopped shivering as the interior temperature gradually rose, and finally she was able to shed the bulky jacket. Another check on Seven showed she was warming up as well ... too well. The Borg was starting to run a fever and Janeway administered another hypospray, trying not to let her concern overwhelm her.

Her instincts demanded that she keep moving, so she cleaned up the shuttle's interior as best she could, storing away the equipment that had broken loose and piling the items which were broken in the corner, intending to look them over later in the hopes of salvaging what she could. She then ran a inventory on their supplies, taking stock of what tools, equipment and food they had. She knew that without enough energy to power the replicators beyond the lowest level recycling function, the two women were limited to the shuttle's stock of field rations and the unappealing mission bars. The shuttle held the standard supply ... enough to last a year for two people, though it was expected that anyone stranded that long would eventually supplement the supplies with natural foodstuffs and gradually wean off the rations altogether.

Janeway felt a little better once she had finished her check, but it was without enthusiasm that she popped a field ration, not feeling especially hungry. The packet heated itself as the seal was broken, though the captain was unaware that these self-contained meals were very similar to what had been known as 'TV dinners' in the latter part of the 20th and early part of the 21st century. Far more nutritionally sound, however.

Desolately, she picked at the Salisbury steak and the reconstituted potatoes, but knew she had to eat. It was still not particularly warm inside the ship yet, and with such harsh conditions outside, it was highly unlikely that it would become very comfortable. The two Voyager crewmembers would not freeze as long as the solar panels were operative, but staying warm took energy, and it was clear that the most they could hope for was simply to stay alive until Voyager found them ... if they did.

Janeway forced herself to finish the meal, then checked Seven again, leaning against the console beside the Borg as she peered anxiously into the still features. She would have preferred for Seven to be prone, specifically in one of the bunks in the aft cargo compartment, but Janeway wasn't strong enough to carry her back there with any kind of gentleness, and if she tried dragging her or something equally inelegant, she might only make things worse. Seven's breathing was steady, and the fever seemed to have abated somewhat, so Janeway decided to leave the young woman strapped in the chair.

She discovered an away mission heating unit in the supplies and created a makeshift kitchen on the metal shelf lining the starboard side of the shuttle. She stepped outside briefly, long enough to fill a container with snow, then melted and heated the water until it was warm. She carried it and some clean cloths over to where her partner sagged in the chair, leaning against the ops console as she looked at her. Wetting one of the cloths, she used it to gently clean the blood from the Seven's face and neck, her ministrations more a caress of comfort than having any medicinal value.

"Darling, I don't know if you can hear me," she whispered, "But I'm so sorry about the fights we've been having. I realize how much it hurt you when we had to take the baby back to her people ... but that was where she belonged, just as you belong with us. I held her too, and I know what it felt like, but Annika, she had to be returned. It wasn't our place to keep her. I just want you to know how sorry I am that we've disagreed so harshly about this. I never meant to hurt you with this decision. That was never my intent. I was trying to do what was best for everyone."

She stopped, her chest hurting. This wasn't anything that she hadn't said before, and Seven had refused to accept it. Even if the Borg wasn't unconscious, it was unlikely that she would accept it now. Distressed, Janeway retrieved one of the blankets and wrapped it around herself, leaning up against the bulkhead. She would have been more comfortable in a bunk, of course, but she didn't want to be that far away from Seven. Instead, she watched her partner's bruised face, feeling helpless and not a little frightened.

After awhile, she found herself nodding off, unable to remain upright, and rather than fall down, she moved over to the engineering station on the opposite side of the shuttle, curling up in the chair which she angled to face Seven. Somehow, she managed to doze off, hearing the constant wind moan around the ship and the quiet tick of snow pellets hitting the viewports. When she woke, the candles had burned themselves out and it was pitch black in the shuttle, if a little warmer. Obviously, channeling all the power to produce heat rather than light had been a good idea. She thought about going to find more candles, wondering what had woke her.

Then she heard it, outside, the soft, muffled sound of something moving through the snow.

Something large. Very large.

Her heart in her throat, she felt around beside her, finding the engineering console by virtue of banging her hand into it. She bit her lip to hold back her curse, freezing as everything went dead still. Even the wind seemed to have died, and she was conscious of her breathing, of the respiration of her partner ... and of something else snorting heavily outside. She listened as whatever it was moved again, and there a sudden knock as if it had run into the side of the shuttle. From across the darkness, Seven made a sound, an unconscious whimper of protest and Janeway's eyes hurt as she peered fruitlessly into the blackness. The only illumination came from the weak reflection of the snow through the transparencies, then even that disappeared as something big and dark blocked out the viewport.

Janeway swallowed back her startled scream and hoped with everything she had that Seven would not stir again, would not cry out. If Janeway could figure out a way to get across to her without making any noise, or better yet, get to the phaser rifles, she would, but right now, it was in everyone's best interests if everyone just remained right where they were. Particularly that big ominous shadow peering in from outside.

The minutes passed with agonizing slowness, then abruptly, the shadow was gone. The captain didn't know how long she remained awake, the wind resuming its howl around the shuttle, almost as if whatever had been out there had frightened it into stillness as thoroughly as Janeway had been. More likely, however, the chances were that the creature had just been out during a lull in the storm, and had retreated when it started up again. Somewhere along the line, Janeway fell asleep again, too exhausted to hold it off, even with the possible presence of a predator prowling around their shuttle. When she opened her eyes, it was daylight, and she wondered if she had somehow dreamed the entire thing.

She painfully uncoiled from the chair and moved over to where Seven remained unconscious. Janeway debated as to whether or not she should try to administer a stimulant, but the diagnostic program in the medical tricorder did not recommend it at this point, and she wasn't about to start experimenting with dosages on her partner. Instead, she pulled on her jacket again and went outside.

The wind remained strong and bitter, whipping up loose granules of snow, but there wasn't a cloud in the sky which was a frozen bowl of azure arching over the stark landscape. The sun reflected harshly off the sculpted drifts, and Janeway blinked painfully in the glare, her tears chill on her cheeks. She wiped them away clumsily, and proceeded to struggle up to the roof of the shuttle. After chipping away the ice which had built up around the panels, she took a moment to stand upright, looking around now that she had some clear visibility. The Delta Flyer had skidded to a stop in a valley of sorts, bordered by granite formations which jutted up through the ice and snow like the broken teeth of some gigantic monster of myth, austere, yet beautiful in their rugged majesty.

From this vantage point, she could see marks in the snow, made by something other than the shuttle, and her blood ran cold as she realized how large the prints were. She kicked away the last of the ice from the roof and slid down the slope of the fore part of the Delta Flyer, brought up short by the boulder. She dropped to the ground, then went inside, shrugging out of her jacket which she hung up, the snow dripping off it to puddle on the deck. It occurred to her that if this was going to be a daily excursion, she needed to set up something which would take care of the excess water pooling in the air lock.

Wearily, she checked on Seven again, depressed at the lack of change, then forced herself to take out another ration pack. There would be no skipping of meals, she told herself sternly as she pulled the tab, placing the bowl on the table and watching the steam rise from the beef stew. She couldn't afford it, and what she might try to get away with on Voyager was not something she cared to try on an away mission.

Particularly on this away mission where it appeared she and her partner were in a struggle for their very lives with a frozen and hostile environment.

B'Elanna Torres woke in the early hours before morning watch, not knowing what it was that had disturbed her. Lying beside her, her breathing steady, her lover of a few months, Lt. Ro Laren, remained asleep. The Klingon had the unmistakable feeling that something was wrong, but she couldn't determine what, and her engineer's ears listened keenly to the hum of the warp drive beneath all the rest of the subtle sounds of an operating starship. Moments passed as she tried to determine if what had awakened her was mechanical in origin, but everything sounded 'right' and she was sure that she would have been contacted if anything had happened to the ship.

Just to be sure, however, she rolled away from the warm comfort of her lover and fumbled for her communicator in the low illumination, clicking on it.

"Torres to engineering," she whispered.

"Engineering," came the response. "Nicoletti here. B'Elanna? Why are you whispering?"

"Just give me your status," the chief engineer muttered.

"Everything's fine," Nicoletti responded in a puzzled tone. "All ship's systems are operating at peak performance."

"Fine," Torres said. "Torres out."

"Lanna?"

Torres sighed and rolled over, wrapping her arm across the lanky Bajoran. "Sorry, bangwI', I didn't mean to wake you up," she said, snuggling close as she nestled her head on Ro's shoulder.

"What's up?"

Torres shook her head, frowning. "Nothing, I guess," she said. "I just ... I have this feeling." She blushed. "It doesn't make sense, I know."

"Don't underestimate your instincts," Ro said softly, pulling the Klingon closer to her with her arm. "Is it bad?"

B'Elanna hesitated, trying to pin down her feelings. "I don't know," she said finally, frustration edging her tone. "I only know that I woke up feeling like something is wrong, but I can't tell you what."

Ro considered it, then brushed her lips over B'Elanna's head ridges. "One thing about bad news and starships," she noted, "if there is any, we'll find out about it soon enough."

Exhaling audibly, B'Elanna pursed her lips ruefully. "That's true," she agreed.

The Klingon purred quietly as she felt Ro languidly run her hand over her back, stroking her spine firmly, fingertips seeking out the muscles at the base where they prodded gently.

"You want something?" she asked, voice teasing.

Ro nipped lightly at B'Elanna's forehead. "Seems a shame to waste an opportunity," she said. "We are both awake after all."

"There is that," the Klingon allowed readily. She eased up until she was more on top of the Bajoran, looking down into the finely etched face of her lover. Dark of hair and eyes, a crinkled ridge at the bridge of her nose, Ro Laren was a most attractive woman, particularly to the Klingon who was constantly aware of the fire the burned beneath those composed features. "I love you, bangwI'."

"Hmm, that's good," Ro said in that controlled, faintly amused tone of hers. "Because I love you, too, Lanna."

Torres smiled, revealing slightly pointed teeth, then dipped her head, capturing the Bajoran's lips in a sizzling kiss. Ro returned it passionately, tossing back the blanket so that they had both freedom of movement and would remain cooler in their physical activity. B'Elanna liked her quarters kept a degree or so warmer than what Ro was normally used to, and the two had finally compromised, finding an adjustable blanket which adapted to the heat of the body it was against, keeping the couple cool or warm as required. But when they made love, the blanket became useless as both women tended to warm up far faster than it could adjust to. Already, there was a faint sheen of perspiration over the golden skin of the Bajoran, and Torres felt her own body respond, olive skin becoming slick in the night.

They rolled over so that Ro was on top, pressing down on the Klingon, kissing some more, then rolled back, still kissing. Torres loved this wanton, wallowing immersion in each other, an exchange that never made her feel smothered or trapped as previous lovers had. Ro was willowy yet incredibly strong, taut as a wire with skin as soft as velvet, and the Klingon always delighted in the contrasts in the beloved body. Finally, the pair settled in the center of the bed, Torres on top for the moment, but only because she was slightly more insistent about going first. She eased down the Bajoran's body until she reached Ro's breasts, firm swells that responded so wonderfully to Torres, the sharp little tips stiffening promptly beneath her lips, the ridges that radiated from the top of the aureoles just as sensitive. Torres rasped her tongue over the nipple, then over the ridge before moving over to the other one, liking how Ro moaned blissfully from her oral caresses.

B'Elanna felt the thin thatch of dark hair tickling her navel, and as she moved down, Ro spread her legs, welcoming the Klingon's stocky body between them. Smiling as she kissed over the Bajoran's flat stomach, B'Elanna briefly nuzzled in the wiry patch, inhaling the woman's scent deeply, captivated by its power and heady promise. She placed her hands on the inside of Ro's thighs, parting her legs further, looking down at the f'lar ridges waiting for her, the moisture oozing freely from the clefts to either side to cover them, the opening below that from which even more wetness glistened. Abruptly she plunged into that delicious heat, burying her face into it, making the Bajoran cry out in delight.

"Prophets, Lanna," she swore. "Yes ... oh ... yes..."

Her legs came up over the Klingon's shoulders, her heels thumping into the small of B'Elanna's back which inflamed the Klingon beyond belief. Feeling the responsive muscles at the base of her spine spasm with pleasure, she moaned into the tender flesh, licking and sucking lustily, sliding her tongue into the opening as she nudged her nose over the f'lar ridges, her head bobbing rhythmically, bringing Ro quickly to a peak. The Bajoran's thighs closed hard about B'Elanna's head, and the Klingon felt buried, gasping which was a mistake because she promptly inhaled some of the slick moisture. Gamely she kept with it until Ro was completely through her climax, then surfaced, coughing and blowing as she attempted to clear her air passages. Since this was a regular occurrence, however, Ro paid it no mind, reaching out to hook her hands beneath B'Elanna's arms and hauling her up so she could kiss her so hard that the Klingon saw stars. Possessively, the Bajoran's arms and legs wrapped firmly around B'Elanna and the engineer thought that possibly, she had died and gone to heaven.

"That was wonderful," Ro muttered happily.

"Glad you enjoyed it," B'Elanna said, still slightly overwhelmed though she tried hard to hide it.

"Oh, I did," the Bajoran said, rolling them over again, pinning B'Elanna, kissing her hotly. "Now, it's my turn."

B'Elanna growled, testing the grip on her wrists, knowing she could break it, but choosing not to. Her head went back as Ro nibbled and suckled at her throat, and she groaned blissfully, feeling the sweet mouth travel over the swell of her breast, closing over her nipple which the Bajoran flicked rapidly, her tongue dancing over it and sending tingles all though the Klingon. Arching slightly, she pressed more of it into Ro's mouth, her head lolling back and forth on the pillow, and now that her hands had been released, she raked her fingers through the short, dark hair, holding the woman's head to her. Ro's hand closed over her other breast, squeezing it firmly, then releasing it so that her fingertips could tease her nipple, flicking it with a nail and making it swell with pleasure.

"bangwI', Kahless, I love you," B'Elanna breathed, lost in the sensation. She bend her knees, parting her legs as Ro lifted up slightly, dropping her hand from B'Elanna's breast, stroking lavishly over her stomach and down to where moisture flowed freely. The Klingon jerked and moaned, Ro's fingers swirling over her dual clitori, rubbing back and forth between them, before plunging two fingers inside her.

B'Elanna yelped happily and thrust her hips up to meet the Bajoran's hand, internal muscles gripping and squeezing around the impaling fingers. She uttered a few, sharp sounds, brief grunts, then she was climaxing, shuddering beneath the other woman, then arching a final, ultimate time, feeling the pleasure impact all the way to her toes.

Ro collapsed on her, breathing heavily. It was not a simple task to satisfy a Klingon woman, and usually took a lot of energy. Not everyone was capable of it and B'Elanna, her arms wrapped firmly around her lover, was well satisfied by the effort.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Peachy," Ro said. She laughed, perspiration trickling down her temple, and B'Elanna realized that it had actually become quite hot in the room, the atmosphere steamy, heavy with sex and musk from the couple's passion. Both women were panting, sated by the physical interaction. "I should know better than to use that position, however. It always takes so much out of me."

"It's the penetration," B'Elanna told her. "It's a lot easier when we're lying on our sides."

"Maybe," Ro said, rolling over to lie on her back as they both cooled off. The Bajoran regarded the ceiling thoughtfully. "You like the penetration, don't you?" she asked casually.

B'Elanna swallowed, wondering if it was worth her effort to go over to the replicator for some ice water. "I do," she said. She paused. "Not that I miss being with a man or anything."

Ro shook her head. "I wasn't suggesting that," she said. "However, I did come across some devices that might allow us to ... ah, get the job done a little easier."

"You mean ... an accessory?" B'Elanna asked, ears perking up. This was a subject that she had always wanted to bring up with the Bajoran but had never quite been able to figure out how ... without possibly giving the impression that Ro was lacking in some way. That was absolutely the last thing she wanted to imply. She licked her lips, preparing to pursue the conversation. "The entertainment replicator has a whole menu of various items that can enhance an experience."

"That's where I came across them," Ro admitted, not adding why she had been in the files in the first place. B'Elanna decided that perhaps her lover liked penetration on occasion, as well, and would enjoy some variety to their lovemaking. "Unfortunately, the one that seems to be the best constructed and most versatile also costs the most rations."

"Let me guess," the Klingon smirked, "it's called the Wonder Wand 9000™."

Ro frowned. "As a matter of fact, yes," she said. "How did you know?"

Not about to explain that Seven of Nine had once shown her an actual example of the device, B'Elanna smiled and thought quickly. "I've been doing a little research myself," she said.

Ro did not respond right away, and when she did finally speak, her voice was tentative. "Lanna, I don't want you to think that I feel like I'm missing out on anything," she said carefully. "I love you and I want to be with you forever...."

"I know," B'Elanna said quickly, reaching over to pat Ro on her leg. "I don't want you to be male, Laren. I just miss the ... additional fun certain appendages can provide."

"Exactly," Ro said, seeming relieved. "And if we can get the same basic effect from a toy..."

"We're not missing out on anything at all," B'Elanna agreed.

"Best of both worlds," Ro noted.

"Which leaves us with one problem," B'Elanna muttered.

"Where are we going to get 375 replicator rations?" Ro finished.

The two women fell silent, thinking furiously.

"Maybe we could ask for a special dispensation," B'Elanna offered finally. "Like a medical requirement."

Ro uttered a bark of laughter. "I'm sure we could get the Doctor to sign off on that one," she said.

Laughing as well, B'Elanna rolled over, resting her head on Ro's chest. "What about a request through engineering? she suggested, running her fingertips lightly over the Bajoran's stomach. "List it under ... uh, tools."

"Special spanners," Ro noted dryly.

"Personal probes."

"Somnetic Inducer."

"Huh?"

"After you use it, you feel like going to sleep," Ro explained.

"No, that was my last two lovers, and it was usually before, not after."

Ro snorted, B'Elanna roared, and it wasn't long before the two woman were absolutely weak, the two laughing until they cried.

"I guess we'll just have to save our rations," B'Elanna said, once they had trailed off, the pair cuddling up together in the dim illumination of pre-morning watch.

"Maybe I can ask for a raise," Ro said, kissing her lover on the forehead ridges. "I am a command candidate now. Surely that's worth something besides additional headaches."

"We can swap holodeck time," the Klingon suggested. "I'm not much for those things and neither are you. I bet Tom would be glad to take our hours off our hands."

Ro nodded. "That's a thought," she allowed. "And I think I can trade some lessons in advanced weapons training to some of the guys in security even though Voyager doesn't have any of those ship mounted Type-10 phasers they use on the heavy cruisers. Davis is always bugging me to give him tips on the tracking simulator. Maybe he'll swap some rations for it."

B'Elanna was about to suggest that she could also swap some leave time, but the lights came up to signify morning watch and the computer blandly intoned that it was "0600 hours" so she kissed Ro ruefully and rolled out of bed. The pair quickly got ready for duty, taking turns in B'Elanna's ensuite because, unfortunately, the sonic shower just wasn't big enough for two. B'Elanna made a mental note to ask for double quarters soon. As it turned out, one got a slight ration allotment increase when one moved into a larger cabin, and she was sure that they were at the stage where Ro would now agree to it.

Of course, she'd better make sure to clear that with the Bajoran first. She wasn't about to make a move like that without being sure it would work for both of them. She had made enough errors like that in this relationship, as had the other woman.

The pair kissed goodbye at the door, then headed off for their shifts, Ro to join Chakotay on the bridge and B'Elanna to engineering. The Klingon had only been there five minutes before she heard the first of the lower deck scuttlebutt.

The Delta Flyer was overdue and no one knew where the captain and Seven were.

Seven of Nine woke up feeling as if she had been randomly thrown about in a shuttle which had subsequently crash-landed on an ice field. Then she remembered that was exactly what had happened and she stifled a groan. Opening her eyes was an effort, the young woman wincing at the pain it caused, and she glanced around gingerly, her view limited by the fact her head was bent onto her chest and resting to the side. She was pinned, or secured somehow, with blankets surrounding her. Discovering that fact was important to her in some way, and she thought about it for a few minutes, trying to pin down why that would make her feel better.

Finally, she realized that if someone had wrapped blankets around her, it meant that her partner was all right ... at least, all right enough to tend to the Borg. Seven lifted her head with great care, feeling the ache throb along her temples.

Janeway sat at the helm, the console panel opened so that she could dig into its interior for some odd reason. She looks so tired, Seven thought, noting the dark shadows under the captain's eyes. Indeed, the Borg suspected that it was even possible that Janeway hadn't been eating properly. There was an empty ration pack on the shelf next to Janeway, however, so perhaps that was an inaccurate assessment, but it would not have surprised Seven at all to discover the packet was not from a recent meal.

"Kathryn?"

At least, that's what Seven tried to say. What came out was a noise that didn't even sound Human, but it was enough for Janeway to turn her head quickly, an incredible joy lighting her face. Seven realized that she had worried her partner considerably if the reaction was that strong.

"Annika?" Janeway said, moving quickly over to her. Her eyes, more grey than blue, searched her face anxiously. "It's about time you woke up, crewman," she said softly. "You've been derelict in your duty long enough."

This was new, Seven decided. She was used to tears, even used to outraged anger, but an attempt at a joke was unfamiliar. She had either not scared her partner at all ... or had scared her into a whole new level of reaction.

Seven swallowed, finding it difficult to do without saliva. Janeway seemed to sense her need and quickly retrieved a bottle with a straw, placing the tip carefully between Seven's abraded lips.

"Slowly," she instructed.

Seven complied, sipping at the cool water that went down her throat like a balm. She drank her fill, which wasn't much, and drew back.

"Enough," she rasped. She took a breath, wincing as it hurt ... everything hurt. "What ... is our status?"

"Well, we crashed," Janeway said, drawing her fingertips lightly over Seven's brow.

"I remember," Seven muttered. "We struck a boulder."

"You do?" Janeway said, cupping the Borg's cheek, studying her intently. "I suppose that's a good sign. In any event, we're running on the solar power the roof panels can give us.  They're providing heat, but are far too limited to do much else. All we have for replicators is the recycle feature, so what we're wearing is it, while our food is coming from ration packs. We can't replicate parts to repair the various systems, and frankly, even if we could, we lost both nacelles. The Delta Flyer is not getting off this rock under its own power."

As she talked, she drew back the blankets and worked on the restraints holding Seven in the chair, freeing her. Seven noted the yellowish and fading bruises on her partner's face and reached up with trembling fingertips, not quite touching the captain's cheekbone.

"Why did you not repair these?" she asked.

Janeway quirked an eyebrow. "Darling, we have no way to recharge the medical devices," she said. "I'd rather save them for serious injuries than mild contusions which can heal themselves."

"Of course," Seven said fretfully. "Why did I not think of that?"

"You're probably still muddled a bit," Janeway said, with concern. "You had a concussion ... this is the first time you've been conscious since the crash. Do you think you can walk? I want to move you aft, so you can lie down on a bunk."

"I believe I can," Seven said, still feeling a bit qualmish. "However, I do not wish to remain on a bunk. They are only large enough for one person."

Janeway smiled gently. "Yes, but unfortunately, in order to sleep together, we'd have to put the sleeping pads on the floor," she said. "The solar panels store power all through the daylight hours, but the heat tapers off through the night. Sometimes it's practically nonexistent in the hours before sunrise, especially after days like this when the cloud cover is particularly thick. Putting a sleeping pad down on those metal deck plates is just asking to freeze to death."

Seven frowned. Her thoughts were somewhat disjointed, but her intellect insisted on solving this problem before she moved an inch.

"There are away mission habitats on this shuttle, are there not?" she countered.

"Of course," Janeway remarked, obviously not seeing where this was going. "The standard issue is three doubles."

"Each habitat comes with expandable mattresses," Seven pointed out. "Activate them and stack them on top of one another until they are of a suitable height to be away from the chilling effect of the deck."

"Damn," Janeway muttered, staring at her in astonishment. "Why didn't I think of that?"

Seven suspected that it was because Janeway rarely put her own comfort first, whereas, for her, the captain's comfort was a priority. As long as Seven didn't require a bed, Janeway did not think of providing a proper one for herself.

"In fact, I'd prefer it," Janeway said, thinking furiously. "We could put a bed like that out here in the cockpit and close off the aft compartment altogether, leaving it unheated and channeling that power to here." She looked at Seven, studying her closely. "I need you to eat something," she added. "I'll find a broth or something."

The thought of food was completely unappealing, but Seven nodded. "Very well," she said weakly, knowing she had to ingest nutrition. Her cranial implant was sending signals that indicated that her nanoprobes had been working at full capacity and required some immediate outside energy source. She felt nauseated as Janeway put a bowl of broth on the dark console in front of her, but she forced herself to pick up the spoon, her hand trembling.

Janeway's eyes were grey as she watched this. "Do you want me to do that?" she asked quietly.

Since most of the soup sloshed out of the spoon before Seven even got it away from the bowl, the Borg decided that was a logical suggestion. She handed the spoon to Janeway who gently took it out of her hand and dipped it into the soup as Seven leaned back in the chair.

"How long?" she asked, after her first mouthful which had taken a determined effort to swallow. She held her breath, hoping it wouldn't come right back up again.

Janeway seemed to sense her need to pause, and stirred the soup idly as she answered the young woman's question.

"We crashed three days ago," she admitted.

Seven considered that. "You must have been concerned about me," she said, eyeing her partner curiously.

"Words can't even express it," Janeway admitted, offering another spoonful which Seven discovered went down a bit easier.

"You have not been sleeping," Seven noted.

Janeway grimaced, obviously not wanting to acknowledge it. "I caught naps now and again." She paused, transferring more soup to Seven. "I wanted to be near you, particularly at night."

Seven thought there was a little more to that than Janeway was letting on, picking up on a certain shadow that crossed the bluish grey eyes.

"Why?" she demanded, after a third spoonful.

"Couldn't it be because I love you?" Janeway said dryly. Seven merely looked at her and the captain sighed. "There's something that comes by at night every so often to check us out. I've never been able to get a good look at it, and to be perfectly honest, I try to stay as still as possible. We have no power to put up even the most limited of repulse fields and we have no weapons stronger than the phaser rifles." She used a cloth to dab at Seven's chin. "I would rather save them as a last resort. Whatever comes by is very large, but so far, it hasn't tried to get in. Without knowing the proper stun setting, I might just make it angry, and I'd rather not kill anything if I don't have to. It's not my nature."

Seven dipped her head briefly in acknowledgment of her partner's reverence for life. "I know," she said. She took a breath. "I feel better," she added. "I think I can feed myself now."

"All right," Janeway said, laying the spoon down on the console. "While you finish your soup, I'll get out the habitat mattresses." She hesitated, then placed her fingers under Seven's chin and lifted her face, leaning over to kiss her with immeasurable tenderness. "You scared me, love," she whispered when she finally drew back.

"I rather thought I had," Seven allowed.

Janeway held her gaze for a few moments, then kissed her again and made her way aft to the cargo compartment. Seven picked up her spoon and dipped it into the broth which was rapidly cooling, eating steadily if without much appetite. Shivering, she realized how cold it was in the shuttle, and she wondered if anything could be done to increase the heat supply. She considered it carefully, gazing through the viewport where solid flakes of precipitation hit the transparency with a subtle, steady hiss. She looked back down at her bowl, mildly surprised to discover it was empty, and carefully put the spoon into it before easing the chair around so she could watch her partner.

Janeway had returned from the aft compartment with three rectangular packages, each approximately twice the size of one of the captain's 'bodice rippers'. Janeway placed one of them on the deck and pressed the activation tab. The package began to unfold, enlarging as the expanding foam was released inside, firming and shaping the mattress until it had reached its full size. It was smaller than the queen-sized bed the couple shared in their quarters on Voyager, but it was far wider than the sleeping pads on the fold-down bunks in the rear compartment.

The captain repeated the process with the other two, stacking one on top of the other until the 'bed' was only a little lower than their berth on the ship. Janeway covered it with the heat reflective blankets, then rolled a few more up to act as pillows. By the time she was done, it actually looked inviting.

"Come on," Janeway said, coming over to Seven and putting her arm around her. "Let's get you over there."

Gingerly, Seven got to her feet, using the console for support as much as her partner, staggering the few steps required to make it to the bed. By the time she got there, she was shaking, and a cold sweat had broken out all over her. It was a clear indication that her nanoprobes had just about exhausted their energy output capability for the time being, especially since they could not even regulate her perspiration. Her head spun and she wavered as she collapsed on the edge of the bed.

"I don't think you have pneumonia," Janeway said, concern darkening her eyes, "but you're obviously weak as a kitten."

"My internal reserves have been drained," Seven noted, aware that she was breathing heavily. "It will take some time before they will be replenished."

"Well, time seems to be something we have plenty of," Janeway said. "There's a -35º chill factor out there thanks to the wind, and sticking close to the shuttle is our only option."

Seven shivered. "There's been no contact with Voyager?"

"No," Janeway said, and somehow there was a wealth of meaning behind that word that Seven was not prepared to pursue at the moment. The captain sighed and sat down next to her partner. "Darling, I'm going to take your clothes off so I can recycle them for you."

Seven smiled faintly. "Any excuse to undress me," she murmured. "You are incorrigible."

Janeway made a small sound of amusement. "You must be feeling better," she said. "If you're making jokes."

"Did I imply it was a joke?"

"Just be still," Janeway said, carefully easing the vest off Seven's shoulders. "Let me do the work." She frowned as she looked at Seven's long sleeved sweater. "I'm going to have to pull this over your head.

"I understand," Seven remarked, already tensing in preparation. By the time it, and the undershirt had been removed, she was dizzy and more than glad to lie down as Janeway finished removing her trousers, undergarments and boots.

She wondered how long it would take before she could stand up without help, and what this meant for both women's future survival.

Janeway quickly threw two of the blankets over her partner and carried Seven's clothes over to the replicator. The boots and vest were set neatly aside, while the remainder of her clothing was run through the recycle pattern, which dematerialized them, breaking them down to the component molecules and rematerializing them without the dried in blood and dirt staining them. They were even folded neatly, and Janeway stacked them on the shelf until Seven was ready to wear them again. In the meantime, Seven would remain warmer wrapped up in those special issue blankets than in her clothes.

The Borg was watching the captain through half closed eyes as she worked, and Janeway could not help but feel heartened by the gaze, glad that Seven had not lost consciousness again. Once the captain had finished, she moved over to the bed, sitting on the edge of it as she looked down at her partner. Seven was still pale, and her hair straggled around her features which were marred by fading bruises and cuts. Dark circles stained beneath her eyes and the skin around the metallic implants seemed drawn and tight.

Janeway thought she was utterly beautiful.

"Hey," she said softly, drawing her hand down the cheek. "I don't want to try to wrestle you into the sonic shower, but I do have some water that I keep warm on the camp stove. Would you like a sponge bath? It might make you feel better."

Seven swallowed and nodded. "Yes," she said quietly. "I would."

Janeway filled a basin with the water from the large container kept hot on the heating unit which remained active all the time, supplying an additional form of warmth to the cockpit. Fortunately, like the habitats, they had three, and with any luck, the unit would last for some time. Its energy cell actually used less power when left on at a steady level than when it was turned on and off, or when the temperature setting was altered. Carrying the basin over to the bed, Janeway wet a cloth and began to bathe her partner, drawing the warm sponge over the long limbs and lanky torso, making sure that she cleaned every millimeter of the woman.

There was nothing remotely sexual or arousing about this for either of them, but Janeway still felt a great deal of caring and loving tenderness in doing it, and Seven seemed to sense that, remaining very quiet as Janeway washed away the rest of the blood and sweat which had covered the Borg. The pale eyes seemed to glow as they followed the captain intently.

"I do not understand," Seven said weakly, when the captain had finally completed her task. "Why is it that I have superior physical prowess, yet I am the one most injured in the crash?"

Janeway shrugged. "I'm smaller," she noted. "Maybe that makes me more flexible when we're getting bounced around like that." She leaned over and kissed Seven gently. "I know this is frustrating for you, darling, but you have to let yourself heal. In the meantime, let me take care of you, all right?"

"Very well," Seven said, dissatisfied.

Janeway smiled and touched her chin with her fingertips. "If you really get bored, I'll bring over some padds for you to look at. We can't tap into the main computer, but the padds still have enough information on them that perhaps we can come up with a way to create a deflector field of some kind."

"Was that what you were doing when I woke up?" Seven asked curiously.

Janeway shot a rueful glance at the helm which had been opened, the interior remaining exposed to the cool air. "Yes," she admitted. "I hoped that I could come up with something that would repulse our nightly visitor. Not enough to make it angry, just enough to let it realize we're rather unpalatable."

"It would never believe that," Seven noted softly. "Not once it had a taste of you."

Janeway shot her a grin. "Where is this sense of humor coming from?" she asked. "Usually, I'm the one trying to keep our spirits up with bad jokes."

"They are bad?" Seven queried with disappointment.

"No, they're wonderful," Janeway told her, bending down to kiss her again. The Borg could not help but notice how loving she was being ... a distinct change from the week prior to the crash.

Seven was regarding her closely when she drew away. "Kathryn?"

"Yes, Annika," the captain said.

"I have been very angry with you."

Janeway nodded. "I know," she said softly.

Seven's eyes shifted. "You hurt me," she said. "It was as if my opinion did not matter."

Janeway felt a lump form in her throat. "Oh, it mattered," she said. She paused, trying to find words that would work. Since this was not the first time they had this discussion, she knew it was still probably beyond her ability. "Annika, I love you. With all my heart, I love you. And I want us to have children." She paused. "If things had been different, I would have loved to help raise that Borg baby with you, but I am the captain, and you are the astrometrics officer, and between us, we barely have time to be together, let alone raise a child on Voyager so long as we remain in the Delta Quadrant. It wouldn't be fair to her, and she had blood relatives who were more than willing to raise her. It would have been wrong for us to keep her." She took a breath. "We disagreed, and in the end, I had to make the decision as captain. I know that's what you find unfair ... that my decision was the one that seemed to matter. But darling, this is tearing me up inside. Don't ever believe that what you think and feel doesn't matter to me."

Seven turned her head, obviously not wanting to hear this any more now than the first time they had argued about it. Janeway felt the same anger rise in her chest, the frustration that her partner was simply refusing to listen to her.

"Annika, suppose we had kept her," she said, clutching desperately for anything that would penetrate the young woman's fury and disappointment. "Who was supposed to look after her when we're in the middle of a crisis? Who would be looking after her now while we're lost on this planet? Would that be fair to her?"

"But we will always have this," Seven said angrily, her voice cracking from her weakness. "Even in the Alpha Quadrant, when you take command of another vessel ... if this is to be your stance, then we can never have children."

"But it will be different in the Alpha Quadrant," Janeway responded hotly. "I'll be able to call for help when I find myself in a situation too large for one ship. There'll be starbases and Federation planets to take on new crew and the knowledge that any ship I choose to command in that instance is specifically designed for families ... not some damned Scout ship that should never have been out for longer than a year! Our children deserve better than that!"

She bit back the rest of her words and turned away, knowing her anger was getting the better of her. This was not the time and it sure as hell wasn't the place. "I need to check the roof," she said shortly and left the cockpit, yanking on the bulky jacket furiously, slamming though the airlock and outside where the wind almost knocked her over with its power. She staggered, the arctic chill damping her anger as if an avalanche had buried it.

If she had needed a reminder how anger made one incautious, then this was a quick and sharp boot to her rear. The current situation was simply not one where she could afford to be careless or imprudent in her actions. Thinking clearly once more, she brushed the snow away from her face and checked the roof, just so the trip outside wasn't totally wasted, then returned to the airlock. It seemed to take forever to cycle, and she was shivering when she stumbled inside. In the cockpit, Seven was sitting upright in the bed, her eyes wide with concern, looking as pale and gaunt as Janeway had ever seen her.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

"No," Janeway said, standing close to the heating unit, slowly thawing out. She shot a look at her partner. "I'm sorry I got angry," she said in a low voice. "I shouldn't have stormed out of here ... particularly when there's already a storm out there. Nor should I have left the shuttle without a phaser. It was foolish, but then it seems foolish decisions are all I've been making lately ... at least in your eyes."

Seven was silent for a moment. "You are not foolish, Kathryn," she said finally, in a tired voice. "The decision you made regarding the infant is simply not one we can agree upon. Perhaps it is best that we accept that it has been made and move past it." She raised her pale eyes to meet the captain's. "I do not agree with it, I will never agree with it, but I will no longer pursue it. It serves no purpose."

Janeway started to respond, stopped and bowed her head. "All right," she said with difficulty. "I guess I knew there would always come a day when there would be something that you and I would not be able to agree on ... I just wish it hadn't been this." She took a breath. "Annika, I don't want you to resent me."

"I do not," Seven said wearily. "I am angered by your decision, but I know I must let that anger go so that it does not unduly influence the rest of our lives." Weakly, she lay back down on the bed and closed her eyes.

Janeway instinctively moved over to her, putting her hand on her forehead. "Oh, god," she said regretfully. "I'm sorry, Annika. I shouldn't have argued with you."

Seven sighed. "I initiated it," she reminded her.

"Yes, but it always takes two to fight," Janeway muttered fretfully, noting that Seven's temperature was rising again. She got out the medical tricorder and checked the readings. "Your fever's back. Darling, I know that it's hard, but please try to stay as quiet as possible until you're feeling better."

"I will comply," Seven whispered, completely obedient to the demand which bothered Janeway far more than the tricorder readings.

The young woman lay on her side, her eyes closed, and Janeway felt concern permeate every molecule of her. The tricorder recommended another application of broad spectrum antibiotics and Janeway quickly found the hypospray, which she injected into Seven's neck with a soft hiss. The Borg barely flinched, and Janeway drew the covers up around her partner's shoulders, bending down to kiss her temple.

"Try to get some sleep, love," she whispered. "I promise, I'll be right here."

"You will not leave the ship again?" Seven murmured.

"Not today," Janeway said regretfully. She realized that Seven had been worried when she had stormed out, and why wouldn't she be? After all, Janeway had just finished telling her all about the big dark creature who lurked about the shuttle at night. Honestly, sometimes she just didn't think before she acted. One would think that as a Starfleet captain, she would have learned better than that by now.

"Acceptable," Seven whispered and then was silent, her breathing smoothing out as Janeway realized that she had fallen asleep.

The captain brushed her fingers over the woman's brow, then moved back to the helm where she tried to complete the task she had started earlier in that day. It was a futile endeavor, and finally, Janeway just shoved everything back and closed it up. There would be no repulsion field this day, she decided grouchily and rubbed her forehead tiredly. A glance aft took in her partner, who was still asleep, and suddenly the view of the bed was far too inviting to resist, particularly as she saw the light grow duller outside, heralding the oncoming night.

She uncoiled from the chair at the front of the cockpit and went aft, digging out some ration packs from the compartment. Seven stirred at the movement, the pale eyes opening, looking around in muddled confusion as Janeway returned to the cockpit.

"Kathryn?"

"I'm right here, darling," Janeway said quietly. "Do you think you could eat something?"

Painfully, Seven wrapped a blanket around her body and rose to a sitting position, leaning back against the hull as Janeway brought over more broth. It was beef this time rather than the chicken she had offered the Borg earlier, just for variety's sake. Sitting next to her on the bed, Janeway ate her stew and occasionally helped Seven with her own meal, though it seemed that the young woman was feeling a little stronger. At least she was able to manipulate the spoon without too many problems. The illumination in the shuttle was quite low when they finished, and Janeway lit a candle to provide light.

"These are primitive conditions," Seven noted, easing back down on the bed.

Janeway smiled faintly. "Yes, but not quite as primitive as they were on 'Safe Haven' when we had to transport down with nothing but our survival packs."

Seven quirked an eyebrow. "Yes," she said. She eyed Janeway closely. "Will you come to bed, Kathryn?"

"After I dare the cold of the aft head," Janeway noted. "Though, I think instead of stripping down for a sonic shower back there, I'll give myself a bit of a sponge bath as well. I never feel clean with the sonic application, anyway, and it'll save a little power which will mean a little more heat through the night." She was aware of Seven's expression and she tilted her head. "What?"

"You have not wanted to sleep with me recently," Seven noted. "I was afraid..."

"That my ego would continue to rule my actions?" Janeway said dryly. "Annika, there's nothing like a crash landing to reorganize one's priorities." She paused, a sudden uncertainty filling her. "Unless you would prefer not to sleep with me?"

"No," Seven said, immediately, reaching out to grasp Janeway's wrist gently. "I wish you to come to bed. That is why I asked."

Janeway smiled slightly, relieved. "Give me a few moments," she said.

She took as little time as possible in the aft head, performing the necessary biological tasks that she had to do, and glad that she had decided against the sonic shower. Since she had sealed off the aft compartment, it was damned cold back here even as it was correspondingly warmer in the cockpit. It was fortunate, however, that the facilities operated on an independent power source and did not really utilize water in its function but rather, molecular dissolution to remove waste. Even without heat, nothing would freeze ... unless it was her buttocks to the ceramic seat, she realized. She quickly finished and decided that channeling some heat to this tiny room was a necessity, even if the cargo compartment between it and the cockpit remained unheated. She envied Seven and her implants which took care of all these biological inconveniences.

She quickly dashed back to the cockpit and made the necessary adjustments to channel some heat into the head so that if she did require the shower, she could take one without freezing. Then she took off her clothes and used a basin of water to wash, glad that for the moment, the temperature was fairly comfortable in the cockpit. She was aware of Seven watching her with appreciative eyes as she scrubbed herself down, and she smiled faintly at the partner.

When she finally blew out the candle and crawled onto the mattress next to the young woman, snuggling under the blankets which were already cozy from Seven's body heat, she groaned aloud from the sheer, unadulterated pleasure of it.

"God, I think this is the first time I've been warm since we crashed," she muttered, wrapping her arms around the Borg who accepted the embrace happily, if weakly.

Seven nestled her head on the captain's shoulder, resting her hand lightly on Janeway's chest as the captain brushed her lips over her partner's forehead.

"I'm sorry we've had such stress between us lately," she whispered.

"I believe that we are both equally at fault," Seven conceded softly. "It is something that we cannot resolve in terms of agreement, but perhaps, now that it is over, we can put it behind us." She sighed softly and settled down against the captain, dropping off to sleep once more.

Janeway, despite her exhaustion, did not surrender immediately, her thoughts too busy to sleep. She realized that this negotiated truce between her and Seven might be the absolute most the couple could hope for regarding the issue. How could she have known how much of an impact it would make on their lives when Voyager came across that Borg cube in the depths of space? The huge ship had been severely damaged, most of the drones dead from an unknown pathogen, leaving only five children, released prematurely from their maturation chambers, to run the vessel. They had captured Chakotay, Harry, Tom and Neelix, and it had been up to Janeway and Seven to rescue them from the youngsters. Borg were generally predictable, but these immature drones were not, and it had taken all of Seven's developing humanity, along with her knowledge of the Collective, to solve the problem. After the death of their leader, the four remaining children, along with an infant that Seven had rescued from a malfunctioning maturation chamber, had come on board the ship, finally accepting the necessity of leaving the Collective. Janeway had been determined that she would find the children's homes and return them to the safety of their own people.

Unfortunately, it hadn't turned out to be that simple.

She had never seen her partner as angry as she had been when the captain had told her that they had found the people of the youngest child ... far angrier than the first situation with Icheb, who had been designed as a biological weapon by his people to fight the Borg ... and even the knowledge that the infant had loving relatives, who were more than willing to accept responsibility for her, had not salved the young woman's ire at the captain. Indeed, Seven had grown very attached to the baby girl in the short time she had been on Voyager, and perhaps Janeway had underestimated that attachment. Certainly, she had underestimated how much Seven had been actively including the child in her future plans regarding herself and the captain.

As a result, the trip to the child's home planet had been an experience of complete acrimony from her spouse, and Janeway was keenly aware that the only reason Seven had even accompanied the captain in returning the child in the first place, was to take advantage of any opportunity to negate the exchange of custody. If there had been a flaw of any kind in the baby's relatives or the situation she was going into, Seven would have demanded that the agreement be overturned, and Janeway wasn't sure that she could have prevented it. After all, the young woman's instincts about Icheb and the hidden motivations of his people had been entirely correct a a few weeks earlier.

But there had been nothing wrong with the couple who had taken the child, and Seven had been icily distant on the return trip, even openly hostile at times. Then they had run into this wave front and found themselves in a fight for their lives.

Janeway sighed, staring into the darkness. Voyager had gained crewmembers at a remarkable pace this past year and most of them seemed to be children. What that would mean in the long term was something she hadn't quite figured out yet. Nor was she sure what was going to happen if they ran across more relatives of the other Borg children. Only Icheb's fate had truly been decided, the young male choosing to remain on Voyager for the rest of their journey back to the Alpha Quadrant. The captain didn't ever want to have to go through this again with Seven, and she realized that perhaps she was the one truly at fault here. She had suggested that her spouse would be the best choice to become the children's mentor and guide, to help them adapt after being severed from the Collective. She had thought it would please the young woman and somehow make up for the couple not being able to have children of their own for the time being. Had she really been so short-sighted as to think that Seven would not take a deeply personal interest in them? That she would not develop a strongly protective maternal bond toward them?

How big a fool are you, Kathryn? she chastised herself harshly.

Yet that didn't change her belief that the children were better off with their own people wherever possible, rather than being dragged back to the Federation with Voyager. Ironically, it was that same belief that had caused her to sever a young Human woman those short years ago, even as she was ashamed to think that if Annika had been from some other species, perhaps one that she had not encountered prior to that fateful meeting, she might not have taken such a personal interest in 'rescuing' her from the Collective. Seven of Nine would have been 'just another drone'.

She closed her eyes, trying to drag her mind away from such futile speculation, and found herself wondering how long it would be before Voyager started looking for them. They had been in this frozen hell for three days now, and she wasn't even sure if the initial distress beacon was penetrating those sullen clouds to reach the ears of her ship.

With that distressing thought to finish her day, Captain Janeway fell asleep in the arms of her spouse. Ro stared at Chakotay blankly.

"I'm sorry, sir, could you repeat that," she asked faintly.

"I want you to take over the role of first officer for the duration of this crisis," the tall, broad-shouldered commander said, leaning back in the chair behind the desk. He rubbed the back of his thumb over his tattoo, a nervous gesture that Ro doubted he even realized he had. "With the disappearance of the captain and Seven, we need to implement a clear chain of command. Normally, it would be Tuvok, but he asked to be released from that role, so I'm choosing you to act in that capacity."

Ro took a breath, looking around the ready room in an effort to grant her time to think about it. The decor was so uniquely Janeway's that she and Chakotay were glaringly out of place here, and both of them were keenly aware of it. Yet, so long as Chakotay was acting captain, he had to take discussions like this into the ready room. He had no choice, and Ro supposed, she didn't either. It was part of the responsibility she had accepted when she agreed to this whole career move. She didn't have to feel ready for it, she decided, she just had to act as if she was.

"Of course, Commander," she said, straightening.

"I want you to coordinate the search with Tuvok and the ship," he said. "I wish we still had the Delta Flyer ... its range is so much greater than the average shuttle ... but we'll just have to make do. I want you to schedule the best pilots on the ship to work round the clock."

"Does that include me?" she asked.

"No," he said. "The ship will need you to cover the helm, which will free up Tom to aid in the search."

"Understood," she said. "Is there any hint about what might have happened?"

"We can't find any distress beacon, and the Mutrani say that the captain and Seven left their world days ago," he said. "Long range sensors do detect traces of a wave front which passed through their plotted course, but it's logical to think they would have tried to avoid it."

"Not if they were in a hurry to return," Ro noted. She hesitated, feeling slightly embarrassed. She was not fond of the informational tidbits that her lover tended to pass onto her, but sometimes they could be useful. "I think she and Seven were having a few ... uh, disagreements about returning the child."

Chakotay regarded her steadily. "So Kathryn might want to get back to the ship as soon as possible," he said. He nodded thoughtfully. "I had thought there was a little strain there, but they're such private people, I didn't ask and she didn't volunteer." He eyed her. "You sure?"

"B'Elanna," she said shortly.

"Ah, yes," he said dryly. "She would know if anyone would." He frowned. "There were magnetic strings detected in the wave."

Ro inhaled sharply. She had the memory of encountering one on the USS Enterprise, and the subsequent damage the Galaxy-class ship sustained had been horrific. She could only imagine how such an anomaly would have affected the Delta Flyer. "How large?"

"Minor strands," he said flatly, "but more than large enough to take out most of the shuttle's systems. It's possible that the Flyer's sensors wouldn't be able to detect them through the radiation of the wave front before entering it."

"If they were hit, they'd probably try for the nearest system with habitable planets," she said, "Rather than head for us and possibly lose life support in space."

"My thoughts exactly," he replied. "There are three between here and the Mutrani homeworld. We'd better get started. That's still a lot of space to cover, and the wave front has left such a radiation trail behind it that any distress beacon or ion trails will be masked completely unless we pass right by them."

Ro nodded abruptly. "Right away," she said.

She left the ready room and glanced over at Tuvok, who was still monitoring the tactical station, before making her way over to the first officer's chair where she felt quite self-conscious as she sat down in it, moving the console around and bringing up the schedule of the crew. She tagged the really good pilots, like Paris and Ensign Culhean, as being on active duty with the shuttles for the foreseeable future, then brought up other crewmembers to cover the various sections which were going to face a burden from those officers being shifted.

This was one of the more important parts of being a first officer, the ability to manage personnel resources and channel them into the proper avenues. She wasn't sure she liked it, since dealing with large groups of people had never been one of her strong suits, but she set her teeth and did the job that was required. Afterward, when Chakotay came out to take the bridge, she exchanged nods with him and moved toward the turbolift, accompanied by the security chief who was in charge of the search teams.

"I've made Paris, Culhean and White available as pilots," she said as the turbolift carried them down to ship's stores. "I think three shuttles, checking each system at a time with Voyager as backup, will be quicker than a single shuttle checking a system on its own."

"Logical," Tuvok said approvingly, his hands linked formally behind his back.

"May I ask you a question, sir?" she asked.

Tuvok quirked an eyebrow. "Proceed," he said.

"I am curious why you did not take the role of first officer during this crisis," she said quietly. "Have you ever considered that the captain's choice in Chakotay all those years ago was ... illogical? At the time, I remember hearing rumors to that effect, giving me the impression that you did not agree with her choice. But if we can't find the captain and Seven, he will be captain and you will be his first officer. Will that be a problem?"

"You are taking the long view, which is to be commended, but is also somewhat premature," Tuvok pointed out as he tilted his head, looking vaguely amused though, if pressed, he would deny he changed expression at all. "While the stories you heard at the time were undoubtedly exaggerated and inaccurate, I did question the captain's decision briefly." he asked. He paused, considering it. "My objection at that time, however, did not originate with any wish of mine to be first officer, rather than Chakotay. I was concerned he could not overcome his Maquis leanings to be the sort of first officer she required." He raised his head. "I was incorrect in my assessment," he said easily, without hesitation. "Nor would I have any objection to becoming his first officer if it is necessary." He turned his head, eyeing her with intent scrutiny. "That is not why I requested that I be released from having to play the role at this time. I merely wish to supervise the search myself. No one knows the captain as well as I do, with the exception of Seven, and I would stand a better chance of finding her by actively searching in a shuttle than by attempting to supervise the search from Voyager."

"You're not trying to tell me you're going to use intuition to find the captain and Seven, Tuvok," Ro asked dryly.

"There is no need to be insulting, Lieutenant," he replied calmly.

"Yes, sir," she said promptly. "Have you chosen your teams?"

"I have," he said. "I've contacted them already, and the first alpha group will be in the hanger deck at 1100 hours."

He handed her a padd and she scanned the names, mildly surprised when she saw B'Elanna's name. However, she realized that of all the people on the ship, the engineer and Tom were the ones who would best know how the Delta Flyer would act under various conditions.

After making sure that ship stores had sent everything needed to fully outfit the shuttles and teams with the necessary equipment, Ro accompanied Tuvok to the hangar deck, not only because it was her duty, but because she wanted the chance to say goodbye to B'Elanna.

She raised her eyebrow when she discovered all of the Borg children, along with Naomi Wildman, in the hangar deck, apparently insistent upon going with the search and rescue teams.

"Impossible," she said firmly, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at them.

"I have designed a new sensor array which will track down Seven's unique implant signature," said the oldest Borg, a Brunali male who was about fourteen, still in the gawky stage between boyhood and the onset of true manliness. Ro could see in his earnest face all sorts of eventual problems ahead for Seven ... problems that the Borg was undoubtedly, completely oblivious of at the moment. "If you could just wait until I finish constructing it..."

"We can't," she said shortly. She forced herself to soften her stance, seeing the distress in all their fresh little faces. "But do what you can here on Voyager. Such a device may prove useful if our first sweep doesn't track them down. However, I'm certainly not going to authorize you to go along with any of the teams."

Sek stepped forward. "Lt. Ro is correct," she said calmly. "I realize it's difficult for you to stand by here on Voyager, but it is your duty. The rescue teams have a job to do." She placed her hand on the boy's shoulder. "As soon as we find her, I'll make sure Seven knows how worried you were for her."

Tuvok apparently had enough of this. "Form up," he said, his voice carrying somehow throughout the hangar deck though he didn't raise it at all. "Ensign White, you will pilot the shuttle containing Lt. Torres and myself. Lt. Paris, you will be in command of team two. Lt. Davis and Neelix will accompany you. Ensign Culhean will pilot shuttle three which will include Counselor Sek and Ensign Ashmore. We will search each planet systematically for signs of a landing or crash site while Voyager searches for ion trails or any hint of wreckage in space. Unfortunately, the wave front which ran through this area will have obscured any warp engine traces so it is likely that it will be left up to the shuttles to discover the Delta Flyer's ultimate fate. We will fly for twelve hours, then return to Voyager where we will be replaced by the beta team commanded by Lt. Kim."

He favored them all with an impassive look that Ro knew did not, in the slightest way, convey his true sense of concern.

"Captain Janeway and Seven of Nine will do all they can to survive until we rescue them," he said. "It behooves us to make sure that wait is not unduly long."

The various team members nodded and made for the shuttles, the Edison, the R. Scott and the G.W. Carver. B'Elanna lingered behind for a moment, moving closer to Ro. The Bajoran made sure the area was clear, the Borg children having been herded out of the hangar by Sek before she went to her ship, before focusing on the Klingon.

"Don't take too long to find them," she said quietly.

"We won't," B'Elanna promised. She glanced around, then closed the rest of the distance between them, reaching up to put her hand against Ro's cheek. "Don't let being first officer go to your head."

"Too late," Ro said, deliberately misunderstanding. "I already have a planet-sized headache."

B'Elanna grinned, then leaned forward for a kiss. Ro hesitated, then provided it, lingering over the sweet lips. "Be careful," she murmured. "I don't want to lose you."

"You won't," B'Elanna replied.

They kissed again, then B'Elanna grabbed her tool kit and sprinted for the Edison. Ro watched her leave, then moved quickly for the exit after checking to see that all the rest of the personnel were clear. She could go to the hangar control area to watch the shuttles depart, but decided not to. There were too many tasks awaiting her as acting first officer and she also needed to take the helm. It would not be easy to find a distress beacon in the ionic soup the wave front had made of this area of space.

Seven of Nine wasn't sure what it was that had awakened her, just that she had a sense of dread permeating her as she opened her eyes. It was still very dark and her cranial implant compensated, providing her left eye with a greenish tinged night vision which she used to sweep her immediate surroundings. She was aware of the stiffness of the body beside her, the hesitant breathing of her partner, and realized Janeway was awake as well, staring toward the viewports at the front of the Delta Flyer.

Carefully, Seven eased herself onto her elbow so she could look over Janeway, raising an eyebrow as she saw something peering back at her through the transparencies, though she was uncertain if it could see her as well as she could see it. Dispassionately, she made an assessment of the creature, noting the various biological characteristics that were visible to her. For long, breathless moments, it remained there, then abruptly it was gone, and Seven was suitably impressed with its quickness.

Beside her, Janeway relaxed marginally, resuming a more natural rhythm of breathing, and Seven realized that the captain had been just the slightest bit afraid. She wrapped her arms around her and pulled her back against her body, spooning against her warmly.

"Did you see it?" Janeway whispered.

"Yes," Seven replied in an equally low tone. "It is approximately four meters in height, humanoid in appearance, with long white hair covering most of its body. It has two eyes, set forward in the skull, with a snout that revealed pronounced canines, indicating a diet that is partially, if not wholly, carnivorous. Its front limbs appear to be manipulative rather than weight bearing, and terminate in long claws which are approximately 50 millimeters in length. The reflexes are remarkable in their swiftness, and it appeared to be moving totally on its hind legs over the snow."

"God, it's the Abominable Snowman," Janeway muttered, sounding less than pleased.

"Kathryn?"

Janeway shook her head. "An Earth myth, darling," she said. She shivered and Seven hugged her closer.

"Are you cold?" she asked, concerned. Belatedly, she realized that she could see her breath in the air, crystallizing slightly, indicating that the temperature had dropped significantly within the shuttle.

"A little," Janeway admitted. "That seems to be our choice in weather, Annika. It's either clear and bitter, bitter cold, or its warmer but snowing so hard you can barely see."

Seven consider it. "The snow is growing deeper around us, isn't it?" she asked quietly. "Even in the short time we've been here."

Janeway was silent for a moment, then nodded. "You can't even see our crash line any longer," she admitted. "I've been trying to clear the fresh snow away from around the shuttle, but it seems to drift right back in again the next snowfall. I haven't managed to figure out what season it is; whether we can hold out for something better or if conditions are going to steadily get worse. We didn't come down near the equator, and I honestly don't think we could get to it on foot. We're simply not equipped to survive any sort of long walk in weather like this, but if we stay here for much longer, we're going to end up buried and even the power from the solar panels will be gone."

She paused, swallowing hard. "I don't know if Voyager can pick up the initial distress beacon we dropped in space," she added soberly, "Or if the signal we're sending now is strong enough to get past the next planet in the system. That wave front was bound to leave ionic disruption in its wake, which interferes with communications, not to mention how it will mask any ion trail the Delta Flyer left." She took a few deep breaths, unable to keep the distress from coloring her tone. "I don't know where we should channel power, Annika. It will do us no good to enhance the energy output to the distress beacon if it leaves us without heat and we freeze to death long before help arrives. But by the same token, keeping warm is only going to last so long, and if we can't attract help before we're buried by the snowfall, we'll die. It just might take longer."

Seven inhaled slowly, wincing a little at the soreness in her chest and sides as she did, considering the captain's words. For all intents and purposes, it seemed that the couple was truly in trouble. However, she was feeling better as time passed, and surely her vaunted intellect would be able to come up with some sort of solution to help them ... otherwise, what good was it?

She pulled the compact form of her partner back against her, curling around her so that as much of her body was touching Janeway as possible, sharing their body heat beneath the blankets that they drew up to cover as much as their faces as possible.

"What is it you have always told me?" she asked softly. "As long as there is life, there is hope?"

"Something like that," Janeway said, not sounding particularly convinced about it at the moment.

"Believe it, Kathryn," Seven whispered.

Janeway didn't respond, but she did seem to relax slightly. Seven nuzzled the captain's neck, stroking her fingers lightly over Janeway's chest, realizing how much she had missed this intimacy with her partner. She had always hated it when she and Kathryn disagreed, and this recent conflict had been particularly bad. However, she was both relieved and gratified that if they couldn't completely resolve it, her partner was willing, at least, to put it aside and move on. It was just unfortunate that it required circumstances such as these to allow them to finally come to terms with each other over it. She drew her hand down the slope of her partner's breast, circling the velvet soft nipple with her fingertips.

Janeway made a soft sound, half contentment, half dismay as she reached back and patted the Borg on the hip. "Darling, you can't possibly tell me you're strong enough for this," she muttered. "Not yet."

Seven inhaled deeply, pressing closer, then began to cough as her bruised lungs protested. She had to roll away, holding her ribs, and Janeway rolled over with her, putting her hand on Seven's back, rubbing it lightly as Seven slowly regained control. The Borg took a few cautious breaths, feeling weak. If she did not exert herself beyond a certain point, it seemed that her body remained reasonably accessible to her. But when she crossed that line, the response was immediate and very unpleasant.

"You are correct," she said with dismay. "I am not."

Slowly she turned towards Kathryn and they fit themselves together once more, striving to regain the heat they lost in Seven's paroxysm of coughing, wrapping the blankets warmly around them.

"I do appreciate the thought, however, my darling," Janeway said, snuggling into the Borg's arms where she sighed softly. "Of all the people to be stranded with in this frozen hell, I'm certainly glad it's with you."

Seven kissed her ear tenderly. "I have fantasized about this often," she whispered.

"You have?" Janeway was clearly surprised.

"Not this, specifically," Seven elaborated, "but of us getting away from our duties and responsibilities, of just being together for several days in a row. You and I alone, far away from Voyager and all the demands we have on us." She paused. "However, this was not exactly what I had in mind."

"No, I don't suppose it was," Janeway said. Seven heard her swallow. "Why haven't you told me this before?" the captain asked in a softer voice.

"To what end?" Seven responded gently. "It was not something that could be accommodated. I knew that, and I did not wish you to feel bad." She squeezed lightly. "I do not wish you to feel bad now. I merely bring it up in reference to the saying that you have often mentioned to me; 'be careful what you wish for'. I now completely understand the concept of where such a saying would come from."

"I guess you would," the captain said slowly. She lifted her head slightly, tenderly brushing her lips over the hollow in Seven's throat. "However, I still want you to tell me these things. Annika, I love you, but if I don't know what you want, then I can't give it to you. Perhaps you're right and we won't be able to manage such a vacation alone together, but you have to at least give me the opportunity to try."

"But you will be unhappy if you can't manage it," Seven pointed out. "You will feel guilty. I do not want that."

"Perhaps, but sometimes, you just have to trust me," Janeway said. She paused and nudged her gently. "You certainly have no problem telling me what you don't want me to do. Just make sure you tell me what you do want me to do, as well."

"Very well, Kathryn," Seven said evenly. "I promise to tell you from now on."

She decided that this line of conversation had the potential to slide into something it shouldn't, and that it would be best if she just didn't say anything further. This new hesitation she now had with her partner was not anything she particularly liked, but perhaps it was better than just blurting out her feelings which were still a bit tender ... especially with regards to what she did and did not want, and what Janeway would and would not do to accommodate that. One day, hopefully, they'd both truly be over it rather than merely saying they should be.

Janeway seemed to sense the sudden tension in the Borg, however, and her arms tightened as she pressed closer, rubbing Seven's back in mute apology. For what, Seven wasn't sure, but she supposed that it would be something that would occur frequently between them for the foreseeable future. Words would take on hidden meaning and so would gestures. It was just something she would have to accept and adapt to for the next little while.

She tucked Kathryn under her chin and held her as close as possible, feeling the woman gradually relax and ease into sleep once more. Seven let her mind wander to her charges on Voyager, worrying fretfully about the adolescents. Perhaps the captain was right, she thought bleakly. Perhaps she was not capable of looking after them as a parent would. It was very possible that so long as Voyager was in the situation it was in, the most she could be for them was a mentor or guide, not a person who could take full responsibility for their upbringing. She wondered if the children were regenerating now, gathered together in the special room within the arboretum where their alcoves were secluded, and who, if anyone, had tucked them in?

There had originally been four alcoves when Seven had first joined Voyager, and gradually, they had been shut down entirely when the young woman lost her abdominal implant. Once, in a explosion of fury, she had destroyed most of the Borg equipment, and it had taken a lot of work for Seven and B'Elanna to rebuild the four alcoves, utilizing parts from the children's damaged cube. She supposed that it was just unfortunate they hadn't also been able to salvage the cube's transwarp coil, but it had been damaged beyond repair.

What would happen to the children when they returned to the Alpha Quadrant? Or if, indeed, she and Janeway were not rescued? She knew that the youngest, Mezoti, had unofficially been adopted by Ensign Wildman and Neelix, the girl spending a lot of time with Naomi who had finally found a full-time playmate. Meanwhile, the twins, Azan and Rebi, had been taken under the wing of Commander Tuvok who was taking a personal interest in their education, while Icheb was developing a close friendship with Chakotay. So perhaps it was not all negative. They would have a future without her, with people who cared for them and would assist in their development.

That knowledge hurt her in a way that she had never experienced before, even as on another level, she was comforted by it.

She closed her eyes and tried to go to sleep. It was a measure of her physical weakness and exhaustion that darkness descended on her almost immediately. When she woke in the bright light of the next morning, Kathryn was gone and Seven blinked, anxiousness filling her as she sat up uncertainly. Then she heard thumps on the roof above her and realized that was where the captain had to be. There was a pause, then a much louder thump, and Seven raised an eyebrow as she saw Janeway skid down the front of the ship over the transparencies in what the Borg decided was an uncontrolled slide, rebounding off the boulder and landing somewhat inelegantly on her back in a rather deep snow drift.

Intrigued, Seven peered through the window as Janeway thrashed her way out of the white stuff, her mouth moving in what Seven suspected was a litany of curses. She was aware that her otherwise elegant spouse could swear the paint off an ore freighter when she wished, and it appeared that, at the moment, the captain was so inclined. There was a part of the Borg that longed to be out there, romping in the snow with her partner, something which Seven had never really experienced outside a holodeck before. However, her lungs ached at the thought of that cold which glittered in the frozen landscape.

She lay back down and listened as she heard the footsteps move around the shuttle, the conditions so cold that Janeway's boots squeaked in the snow, then she heard the manual cycling of the airlock in the aft compartment. There were thuds as Janeway stomped her feet, undoubtedly trying to shake the snow from them. When she finally entered the cockpit, she was accompanied with a blast of cold air, and Seven realized her partner was shivering, her teeth chattering.

The captain quickly replaced the phaser rifle she was carrying in its compartment, then stripped off her clothes, draping her trousers over a chair to dry before diving under the covers with the Borg. Stifling an urge to retreat, Seven instead made the greatest sacrifice a spouse could, letting Janeway entwine her cold feet, legs and arms in hers, allowing the captain to press that chilled form full length against the young woman as the Borg gamely used her own body heat to try to warm her partner up. Janeway's face was red, and her cheeks were wet from tears from the purely physical reaction from coming in from such harsh conditions. Her lips were dry as well, beginning to chap.

"Kathryn, you cannot continue to do this task unless we can find a way to better protect you from the elements," Seven said, holding her partner closely.

"I know," Janeway gasped, snuggling close. "Oh, god, darling, thank you for this. It can't possibly be pleasant for you."

Since it was rather like embracing a block of ice, Seven could not entirely disagree, but it did please her to know that she was able to stop the terrible shivering her partner was undergoing much quicker than if Janeway had been forced to warm up on her own.

"What is our status?" Seven asked.

"The panels are still holding up, but we had another meter of snow come down last night. Already, the drifts around the cleared area are higher than my head," Janeway responded unhappily.

"Perhaps we could utilize the phasers to melt some of it," Seven noted. "Or even disperse it entirely."

"That leaves the problem of resulting water and ice if we melt the snow," Janeway noted, finally producing some warmth of her own within the Borg's embrace. "And disintegrating the snow on a regular basis would burn out our phasers before long. We may need our weapons for protection, but it's something to keep in mind." She sighed, shaking her head. "Honestly, darling, this just seems to get harder and harder."

Seven did not respond beyond pulling her closer, but the captain's words disturbed her greatly as she turned her keen mind to solving all the problems facing them.

Janeway stared at the lower part of the compartment in helpless fury, feeling sick inside. Somehow, a conduit had ruptured, undoubtedly from moisture which had gotten inside the bulkhead before the captain had repaired the outer hull. The resulting contraction and expansion of the temperature variation around the piping made the metal brittle and it cracked, allowing the fluid to seep through into the compartment containing the rations on the starboard side of the vessel. That left only the rations remaining in the compartment on the port side ... rations from which the couple had already been drawing their meals.

"Half our food supply has been ruined," she said weakly. "Instead of a year, we only have six months at best."

Seven quirked her eyebrow. The young woman was fully dressed in her away mission outfit, able to get out of bed for longer and longer periods of time each day as the week passed. Currently, she was at the engineering console, attempting to find a way to reconfigure what remained of the engines to provide energy, enough to power the replicators for additional parts and to increase the output of the distress beacon. Such an attempt would be beyond Janeway, as skilled an engineer as she was, but apparently it was not beyond Seven's technical knowledge or ambition.

"Kathryn, it is irrelevant," she said calmly, using a microfilament capacitor to realign some circuitry. "It is unlikely, in any event, we shall been able to continue to power the Delta Flyer for more than a few months. The wind continues to pile drifts around the shuttle while we receive new snow every second day. Eventually, we will be buried entirely, despite our best efforts."

"Dammit, Annika, I don't want to hear that defeatist attitude from you," Janeway snapped, glaring at her.

"It is not defeatist, Kathryn," Seven said in that rational tone. "It is logical." She paused, softening her expression as she looked up at her. "Kathryn, it is merely another set back, nothing more."

Janeway stared at her, her mouth moving, but unable to utter a sound, then she turned away, feeling a sob surge up from her chest. There was a moment of surprised silence from behind her, then warm arms surrounded her, holding her tightly to keep her from flying apart entirely. With another crewmember, the captain could have maintained her command face, kept any other subordinate from knowing how close to the edge she was, but Seven was no mere crewmember, and the one person she could not hide from, even when she wanted to.

"Talk to me, Kathryn," Seven demanded gently, her tone so warm and loving that Janeway ached from the sheer comfort of it. "Tell me what is truly wrong here."

"I don't want to die, Annika," Janeway said finally, her voice shaky, on the verge of breaking down completely. "Not when we're so close to being home. Not when Voyager can finally see the end of her journey. The ship needs us, the crew needs us. It's .... just such a stupid way to die, freezing or starving to death on a god forsaken planet in the middle of nowhere. Yet, no matter how hard we try, it seems so futile."

"It is not futile, Kathryn," Seven promised her. "I am sorry, I did not realize how much this was affecting you. My words did not help either. You were right, they did sound defeatist." She urged her around and Janeway turned, burying her face in the warm front of her spouse. "Voyager will find us."

"What if they don't?" the captain husked, tears wetting her face even as she was ashamed of her loss of control. It had just been so many days of struggle, with one setback after another as the snow rose around them and the ice built up on the roof. The loss of half their food supply had been the final straw for the older woman. "It could take months for Voyager to do a thorough search if the original distress beacon is unable to penetrate the ionic interference. We don't have enough food, we're losing power, there's some kind of predator stalking us at night, we're going to freeze to death...."

"Shh," Seven urged softly, tightening her embrace to cut off the litany of obstacles facing the couple. "Kathryn, there are only three star systems between the Mutrani and where we were to rendezvous with Voyager. It will not take months for the ship to search them all ... weeks, possibly a month or so, but not six months. Yet, even if it does, I shall go out and hunt down one of those snow creatures which so disturbs you at night. I will prepare you a big steak dinner, and use the skin to make you a fur coat to keep you warm in the daytime." She tightened her hug. "I, of course, shall keep you warm at night."

Despite herself, Janeway managed to laugh through her tears. "You would, too, wouldn't you?" she said ruefully, feeling her chest hurt from the feelings her partner inspired with her strong words.

Seven kissed her forehead gently. "Kathryn, there is food," she pointed out. "Either by hunting down the creature, as I mentioned, or whatever it eats. Our shelter is tight against the weather; we simply have to find a way to stay warm within it as well as keep a way clear to the outside." She paused. "Humans have survived for centuries in harsher conditions than this on Earth. We will find a way on whatever this planet is called." She reached down and cupped the captain's face with her hand, brushing away her tears with her thumb. "We will not die," she concluded with amazing firmness.

Janeway exhaled slowly, bending her head against Seven's chest. For a moment, she let her partner hold and comfort her, wanting to believe that what she was saying was the absolute truth, needing the hope it implied. How many times in the past few weeks had she needed to be hugged, needed to be told it would be all right if only she could just believe? Except it hadn't been there because the only person who could provide it to the captain was absolutely furious with her. This was like coming home, finding a safe haven in the worst storm, and she tightened the arms she had wrapped around Seven's waist, feeding off the strength of their bond which had been missing for far too long.

She swallowed hard. "Guess I lost it there for a minute," she admitted shakily, embarrassed.

Seven rubbed her back. "It is a rare occurrence," she assured her quietly. "Do not concern yourself at being 'Human' every so often, Kathryn. Particularly with me."

Janeway took a deep breath. "Starfleet captains aren't supposed to be Human," she said.

"Indeed?" Seven said, puzzled. "Yet so many of the most famous starship captains have been. Was there an exception made in your respective cases by Starfleet Command?"

"That's not what I meant," Janeway said, sighing.

Seven smiled faintly. "I knew what you meant, Kathryn," she told her, hugging the smaller woman close. "Nor do I believe your original statement either. Any such rule is of your own devising, not implemented by any organization. Therefore, it is up to you to decide where and when such a rule does and does not apply." She drew back, looking down into the captain's face with ice blue eyes which warmed perceptibly as she regarded her. "Kathryn, it is your Humanness that I love most, not your command ability ... though that is an attractive feature, as well."

"Then I guess I'd better stop complaining, hadn't I?" Janeway said, smiling wryly.

"Or perhaps," Seven murmured as she lightly drew her nose along the captain's, nuzzling her, "I should give you something to consider other than our current situation."

Janeway felt the corner of her mouth turn up, hearing beneath the words, the inflection which implied just what the Borg truly had in mind. "I don't think you're healed enough for that," she muttered regretfully. "In fact, you're leaning all your weight against the console just to be able to stand upright with me."

"What I have in mind does not require either of us to remain standing," Seven whispered, brushing her lips over the captain's, a tender promise of more to come. "Kathryn, I have missed you so much. We have not been together often since we encountered the Borg cube, and in the final two weeks prior to the crash, not at all. I know that is partially my doing..."

"Shh," Janeway said, silencing her with a gentle kiss. "I've missed you, too, my darling." She tightened her embrace. "However, I don't think you're ready for any kind of strenuous physical activity yet."

"It does not have to be strenuous," Seven insisted, making the captain smile as she nuzzled her cheek. "We can take our time ... indeed, as you have said, time is something that we have a great deal of." Janeway felt the Borg slide her hands down to her buttocks which she squeezed through the trousers, pulling the captain's pelvis against her own tightly. "It is currently the warmest time of the day within the shuttle ... we would not become unduly cold by being undressed."

Janeway groaned, feeling her resistance crumble as Seven kissed her neck, making her head go back. She swallowed hard, feeling the familiar desire rise within her, thick and strong. "You're absolutely incorrigible, you know," she muttered.

Seven made a sound of amusement. "Does that mean you agree?" she whispered into the captain's hair.

"It means that I'll go to bed with you," Janeway allowed. "But if you aren't up to it, you have to promise me you won't try to push yourself. If you have any trouble, then we'll stop immediately." She drew back, finding the young woman's gaze. "Holding you can be quite wonderful by itself."

"I promise, Kathryn," Seven said, her pale eyes glowing. "If I have difficulty, I will stop."

Janeway held her gaze for a moment, judging her sincerity, then kissed her again, her lips parting to allow Seven to explore her mouth, absorbed by the woman's sweetness. They moved over to the bed, the Borg leaning somewhat heavily on Janeway though she tried to pretend she wasn't, and Janeway smiled as she eased her down onto the mattress.

"How do you talk me into these things?" she muttered, helping Seven off with her vest.

Seven nipped playfully at her earlobe. "I cannot make you do anything you do not want to do," she responded. "I am fully aware of that, Kathryn."

"Oh, you are?" Janeway responded, tugging at the sweater, pulling it over the Borg's head and tossing it on the nearby chair. "Well, I know for a fact that you are not nearly as innocent as you sometimes pretend to be about certain social situations ... particularly after a year of being married."

Seven smiled as she reclined against the mattress, waiting patiently as Janeway removed the Borg's boots, trousers and undergarments, but she did not respond to the captain's sally, and the older woman grinned as she paused to kiss her.

"Not going to touch that one, huh?" she asked.

"It would be best if I did not," Seven told her, cupping her face in her hands. She kissed her again. "Get undressed, Kathryn. I am cold without you."

"Then get under the blankets," Janeway told her with mock exasperation, but she made sure the young woman was covered by two of the silvery sheets before drawing back to remove her own clothes. Seven embraced her immediately as soon as she joined her, and the captain uttered a husky sound of amusement, putting her hands on the woman's slender, yet strong, shoulders. "Easy," she warned. "Don't force yourself into stopping before we even get started."

"I have missed you," Seven repeated firmly, but her touch immediately gentled and she settled against Janeway's body, the couple finding a warm spot in the center of the bed to curl up together, the blankets wrapping around them to keep their body heat where they required it. However, the young woman had been too aggressive in her initial approach, and though she fought it, Seven finally had to cough, muffling her spasm into the mattress as she curled up, wrapping her arms around her ribs. She looked so distressed when she finished that Janeway immediately drew her into her arms, nuzzling her gently.

"It's all right, darling," Janeway muttered, running her hands slowly over her partner's silky back. "Do you remember that planet where we were stranded with Ro and B'Elanna? When you and I made love in the aft compartment?"

"I do," Seven whispered unhappily, her head bent, her eyes closed in frustration. Obviously, she was adhering to her promise to stop if her health became a factor.

"Remember how gentle and slow it was?" Janeway persisted, pulling her closer. "Just you and I lying side by side, looking into each other's eyes while you touched me. Do you remember how special it was?"

Slowly it sank in and Seven opened her eyes, an expression of relief crossing her face as she realized the captain still wished to make love. "I do," she said. "I promise I will not move, Kathryn."

Janeway chuckled. "As long as you promise," she said dryly. She brushed her lips over Seven's, kissing her briefly. "Relax, darling," she urged quietly. "Let me love you..." She kissed her again, sweetly. "Concentrate on our lips..." Again, she brushed her mouth over the Borg's, inhaling her warm breath. "On being here with me..."

Seven settled against her and Janeway ran her hand down the lanky blonde's side, over her hip to her thigh. Moving languidly, as if they had all the time in the world, which indeed, they did, she grasped it gently and drew it up onto her hip, then quietly slid her hand up and down the outside of it, continuing to kiss her spouse with slow, sweet, tender kisses. She made a soft sound of pleasure as Seven carefully put her hand between their bodies, stroking the slope of the captain's breast, caressing it with the slightest of effort, and Janeway did the same, moving her own fingertips lightly over the Borg's rosy nipples.

"Sometimes," Seven whispered between the loving kisses. "This way is better."

"It is," Janeway agreed, capturing Seven's bottom lip between her own, prodding it gently with the tip of her tongue, then reluctantly releasing it. "Making love isn't just the physical aspect, darling. So much of it is in the mind." She reached up and kissed along Seven's brow. "Doing it lazily like this involves far more intellect than the raw stimulation of nerve endings."

"This is still ... stimulating my nerve endings," Seven pointed out, inhaling slowly as Janeway rolled the young woman's nipple playfully between her thumb and forefinger, then moved over to the other to do the same.

"Yes," the captain pointed out, "but you have to concentrate so much harder because you're not allowed to react naturally ... you're thinking about what I'm doing to you rather than what you're going to do to me. That increases the sensation, as opposed to just feeling it mindlessly and responding to it on a purely physical level."

Seven made a small sound of agreement, a faint smile crossing her lips as she closed her eyes. "I wonder..." she began.

"Yes, darling?"

"Has there ever been a study made of such things?" Seven asked. "The role the mind plays in lovemaking?"

"I'm sure there have been several," Janeway told her, chuckling slightly. "Why? Are you volunteering to participate in such a study?"

"Only if you were to be the scientist in charge of research."

"Hmm, that's a job I would willingly give up my command for."

Seven smiled again, her head resting on the pillow next to Janeway, and the captain regarded her closely, delighting in how she was responding to her caresses. The Borg was not moving at all now, merely basking in her partner's touch, her right hand resting lightly on Janeway's waist, the palm warm against the captain's skin. Janeway licked Seven's nose delicately, tracing along the elegant line of it, then kissed her lips once more, careful to keep the touch light and tender. The Borg's respiration deepened perceptibly as Janeway drew her hand down over Seven's abdomen, tracing a gentle circle around her belly button, but Seven restrained her reaction, preventing another onset of coughing by not inhaling too deeply. Janeway kissed her again as her fingertips combed luxuriously through the thin triangle of blonde hair, running her nails lightly over the soft skin beneath the strands of wiry hair.

There was a slight gasp as Janeway's fingertip reached the top of the crease and she paused, waiting for Seven to calm again, her body having tensed in anticipation. "Shh, darling," she murmured. "Gently, now."

"This is ... very intense," Seven whispered in response.

"I know," Janeway said with a smile, remembering how it was when Seven had done it to her during that away mission months earlier. "It's like every touch is magnified because you're concentrating so hard."

Seven swallowed and moved her knee higher on Janeway's hip, opening herself up a little more. Janeway waited until the Borg had fully relaxed again before slowly, very carefully, slipping her fingers along the swollen crease, parting it so that her fingertip could gently brush over the top of the sensitive ridge which was quite firm beneath her touch.

"God, you're so wet," Janeway whispered huskily, feeling the silky moisture bathe her fingers.

Seven didn't answer, merely whimpered slightly and pushed her face into the hollow of Janeway's neck, as if seeking comfort. Janeway smiled and kissed along the top of her partner's shoulder, her fingertip slowly and gently moving back and forth over the Borg's center of pleasure, being so very delicate in her touch. After several minutes of this, Seven made another sound, a moan, and she jerked slightly, quivering as the sensation finally overwhelmed her.

"Oh, Kathryn," she whispered.

"I'm right here, darling," Janeway responded, hugging her tightly with her other arm. She drew back and found her partner's lips, kissing her deeply, continuing to fondle her, and the spasm this time was more powerful, shaking the young woman as she groaned into the captain's mouth. The captain guided her through it, keeping it gentle and controlled, helping Seven find her release without aggravating her bruised lungs.

Finally, Janeway drew away her hand and pulled the young woman's body to hers in a warm embrace, holding her close as Seven gradually relaxed against her once more.

"That was ... wonderful," the Borg murmured, head cradled on the captain's shoulder.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," Janeway said with a smile, kissing her ear.

Seven swallowed again and lifted her head, her eyes very blue at the moment as she regarded her partner. "What about you, Kathryn?"

"I'm fine, darling," the captain responded quickly, though in fact, there was an intense ache between her legs and her nipples were hard and tingling. Making love to her partner had been profoundly stimulating and the need for release was strong within her.

Seven stared at her. "I do not believe you," she said pointedly. She moved closer. "What can I do?"

Janeway judged the expression in her spouse's eyes and realized that Seven would not let go of this unless something was done to satisfy her partner. In truth, the captain was not entirely adverse to it, but she certainly didn't want anything that might exacerbate Seven's weakness.

"Let me take care of it, darling," she suggested.

Seven smiled. "I would enjoy watching that," she said. "But most of it would be hidden beneath the blankets where I could not see." She paused, nuzzling Janeway's ear. "I want to do something," she insisted.

"Oh, god," Janeway murmured, her resistance crumbling once more. Honestly, when it came to her partner, she had no willpower whatsoever ... particularly in bed. "Maybe if I do all the work," she allowed weakly.

"Of course," Seven agreed immediately, and kissed her so passionately, the captain thought she'd pass out. "Seven," Janeway insisted, once the Borg had finally released her lips, "don't become too aggressive here."

"I will not, Kathryn," Seven promised, kissing along the captain's jaw. Her hand trailed lightly over Janeway's stomach, stroking her sensually. "I will be very passive."

"This is not being passive," the captain reminded her, capturing the hand in her grasp, bringing it up to kiss the palm. "Let's not forget how weak you still are."

"But I want to make love to you," Seven persisted.

"You can," Janeway offered, groaning a little as Seven's other hand brushed over her nipples. "Just let me make it easy for you." She rolled away from the Borg, over onto her stomach as she brought her right knee up under her and peered over her shoulder at her spouse. "Let's try one of your infamous 'wake up' calls."

"Yes," Seven said approvingly, once she understood. She pressed her body against the captain's back, realizing that in this position, neither of them were required to move unduly nor did she have to worry about being too heavy for her partner's comfort. Most of the Borg's weight rested on her side, while her hand was completely free to move without resistance. "This requires little expenditure of energy on my part." She ran her fingers languidly over her partner's side and hip, nuzzling the nap of the captain's neck.

"Probably why you like waking me up so often in this way," Janeway noted dryly. "However, I don't want you to try to take care of everything. Just let me look after my end."

Seven was silent for a moment. "Was that a pun, Kathryn?" she asked finally.

Janeway chuckled. "It wasn't meant to be," she said.

"Then I forgive you," Seven said indulgently as she began to kiss and nibble her partner's back and shoulders, letting her hand stray where it would, not moving too quickly or energetically. Eventually, she slipped her fingers into the juncture of Janeway's legs from behind, raising an eyebrow when she discovered how extremely lubricated her spouse was, her hand stroking lavishly through the copious moisture. Realizing that her partner had become very aroused from making love to her and indeed, was further aroused now by these light, almost teasing caresses, Seven wondered if she could provide the fulfillment her partner so obviously required. She forced herself to relax when she felt the tickle in her chest that usually preceded a bout of coughing, waiting until it subsided.

"Are you all right?" Janeway whispered, her respiration far more labored than the Borg's was at the moment.

"Yes," Seven responded and carefully moved her fingers in her partner's heat, rubbing the erect little nodule in a circular motion. Janeway responded immediately with a moan of appreciation, and she curled up a little more, granting further access. A few moments later, Seven was surprised when other fingers joined her, the captain reaching down to touch herself.

"Go inside me," Janeway commanded, her voice husky.

Seven swallowed, lubricating her throat and keeping the cough at bay as she obeyed, finding Janeway's opening and carefully pushing two fingers inside, closing her eyes from the familiar sensation of the clinging walls yielding to her penetration. She loved this intimacy with her partner, of the trust it implied in being allowed and even encouraged to do it.

"Deeper," Janeway breathed urgently. "As far as you can."

Seven thrust into her as far as her fingers could reach, rotating slowly. For whatever reason, Janeway always seemed ... roomier ... from this angle, and she wondered if she should add a third finger. Carefully, she edged it inside and Janeway shuddered, obviously appreciating the additional presence within her. A part of Seven regretted not having the couple's accessory along, knowing that sometimes her spouse just flat out liked to be ravished ... though in Seven's current condition, she couldn't possibly provide the necessary energy to wield it properly. However, the sense she was getting from her partner now was that Janeway needed a more aggressive approach to achieve satisfaction, perhaps because everything had to be so controlled for Seven's sake. Or perhaps it was because it had been so long since the couple had made love. The Borg was sorry that this need for a more restrained lovemaking was not granting Janeway everything she required. The soft sounds the captain were uttering sounded more of frustration than of pleasure at the moment .

She pressed her body against Janeway's back, her nipples sliding in the perspiration that not even the chill temperatures could prevent her partner from producing.

"When we return to Voyager," Seven muttered provocatively as she pressed her fingers deeply inside her spouse, "the first thing I shall do will be to retrieve the wonder wand and make love to you in this position. Would you enjoy that, Kathryn?"

"Oh, god, yes," Janeway groaned, her shoulder blade flexing beneath Seven's lips as she fondled herself, and the Borg was aware that the captain's self-stimulation was far more forceful than Seven would ever try when touching her. It was almost feverish, yet not seeming to help her achieve her goal. Seven considered the matter thoughtfully before seizing on a solution. Perhaps she could not offer all the physical effort Janeway required, the young woman decided, but certainly she could provide an additional stimulation for her partner.

"In fact, I have been considering that the wand may be our solution to the alcove problem. Let me tell you how I intend to make love to you there," Seven added erotically as she began to move her fingers in and out of her partner, slowly, but very deeply, making the thrusts as deliberate as possible. She was pleased to note that Janeway had relaxed a little, no longer so frantic now that she was listening to the Borg weave her verbal web. "I will position you so that you are facing the regeneration panel, completely nude, with your legs spread as wide as they can as you hold tightly onto the braces with your hands. I will kneel at your feet, my mouth on your wetness, tasting you with my lips and tongue, consuming you utterly. You will taste so good, Kathryn, as you always do, and you will feel me licking your clitoris as firmly as you are touching it now. When you are trembling as you do when you are close to climax, I will position myself behind you and place the head of the wand against your intimate flesh. Rubbing it there, I will tease you with the promise of what I shall do, then I will seek out the opening of your body with the tip of it. In one quick motion, I shall enter you fully, unlike how I normally enter you." She dared to give a particularly forceful thrust with her hand, and smiled faintly as she heard Janeway groan again, her breath coming in a sob now.

Her forearm flexing powerfully, she dropped her tone to a deep, demanding trill, caressing her partner with the timbre of her words as much as with her hand. "Buried completely inside you, you will brace yourself against the alcove, holding on as tight as you can," she whispered. "My hands will be on your breasts, covering them as I tease your nipples, and you will feel the entire length of the wonder wand slowly withdraw, each millimeter taking an eternity to remove. When I have drawn back as far as I can, without losing contact, I will wait, judging when the moment is absolutely perfect..." She paused, breathing heavily in her partner's ear, hearing Janeway's own gasps and moans indicate her avid response to this scenario, the captain listening intently to every word as Seven's hand moved in and out of her steadily.

"Then, I shall fuck you until you scream, Kathryn," she said, utilizing a rare obscenity with the most deliberate intent, pleased at its effect when the channel around her fingers abruptly spasmed, fluttering around her driving fingers as Janeway shuddered, crying out in her pleasure.

Finally, the captain curled up, shivering, and Seven covered her as best she could, withdrawing gently and wrapping the smaller woman up in her arms. Her chest felt clearer than it had in days, and the Borg decided that making love was very good for the lungs. She wondered if she should mention that to the Doctor the next time she saw him. Surely he would be interested in such an effective treatment.

"Oh, darling," Janeway whispered, swallowing hard and licking her lips as she remained on her stomach, trying to regain her composure. Obviously her mouth had become quite dry from breathing through it. "Sometimes ... you just astonish me."

"Is that acceptable?" Seven asked.

"Oh, very acceptable, love," Janeway said. She sighed and rolled over, snuggling into Seven's embrace. "You always know my needs so well .... even when I don't immediately recognize them myself."

"We have been married for more than a year," Seven reminded her, kissing her temple.

Janeway nuzzled into the soft skin of her spouse's chest. "I can't get over how well you used the profanity," she noted approvingly. "I know you aren't entirely comfortable with the lack of precision of certain types of words."

"I find certain words far more efficient when they are used sparingly," Seven remarked, then was acutely aware of the captain raising her head to study her closely.

"Meaning that I use them too much?" Janeway asked lightly, after a moment.

Seven hesitated, looking into the blue-grey eyes, then nodded slowly. "On occasion," she admitted honestly, "I feel that your use of such words ... detracts from our experience."

"Why didn't you tell me?" the captain asked, her eyes intent.

"I am telling you, now," Seven pointed out. "Kathryn, I am not saying that I never like how you utilize such words to enhance our lovemaking.  Indeed, they can be very stimulating. However, at other times, I am distracted by them, and there are also times when I actually feel ... lessened by them, as if they were..." She trailed off uncertainly.

"Not worthy of you?" Janeway finished quietly. "Or of us?" She sighed softly. "I never meant to make you feel that way, love. Maybe I go a little overboard, sometimes." She patted Seven on the stomach gently. "I promise to watch my language a bit more when we make love. I certainly don't want to ever give you the impression that being with you is anything other than a very special and precious encounter for me, because it is ... every time."

"Thank you," Seven said, honestly grateful.

"However, when you use the wonder wand," Janeway added, with a wry grin, "all bets are off."

Seven smiled. "Acceptable," she said. "Utilizing our accessory makes for a different sort of encounter."

"It certainly does," Janeway agreed. "It's just too bad we'll never be able to use it in the Borg alcoves."

Seven blinked. "Why not?" she asked blankly.

Janeway chuckled. "The alcoves aren't exactly available for such use anymore, Seven of Mine," she reminded her. "In fact, I think our days of exploring alternative places to make love on the ship are pretty much over. It was risky enough to keep the crew from seeing us, but having a group of very inquisitive children on board, poking their noses into everything, means that we'll have to limit our loving to our bedroom or at most, behind the sealed doors of the holodeck. I can assure you, I'm certainly not going to put myself in a position where Icheb or Mezoti or the twins can discover us in a delicate moment of passion."

Seven exhaled slowly. "I had not considered that possibility," she admitted. "You are correct, it would not be acceptable to risk having the children see us." She paused, frowning. "Why is that, Kathryn? Being intimate with you is so wonderful, and I do not ever want to feel ashamed of loving you, yet the thought of having anyone else see us, particularly anyone as young as the children, is absolutely appalling to me."

"Making love is a very personal sharing between adults, darling," Janeway said softly. "It requires a huge amount of vulnerability that simply should not be witnessed by others. Children, in particular, rely on us as adults to protect and guide them, and it is a vulnerability that they're simply not ready to accept and understand." She drew back so she could look into her partner's eyes. "I know that on one level, it may not make complete sense, darling. Two people who love each other deeply and express it physically should never be ashamed of that. Yet, at the same time, we want to keep our young from knowing about it ... perhaps because we don't want them to grow up too fast. It's part of being a sexually responsible adult, I guess. Children are not ready to be responsible for all that goes with lovemaking, so why force a knowledge on them they don't need to know?"

"But children should be educated, Kathryn," Seven noted.

"Yes," Janeway agreed. "When it's time, and when they are in a position to understand what they are being taught." She paused, a small smile edged her lips as she tucked herself up under the young woman's chin.. "Discovering a couple in the heat of passion in a Borg alcove, while utilizing an accessory, is not necessarily the proper way to teach anyone about sexual expression."

"No," Seven said ruefully. "It is not." She ran her fingertips idly over the captain's bicep, staring out at the darkening illumination as night fell outside. The wind had picked up slightly, howling about the shuttle, and she knew by now that it portended another storm. She glanced down at where her partner was resting her head on her chest. The blue-grey eyes were distant, slightly troubled, and the Borg tightened her embrace. "We will be all right, Kathryn," she said softly.

"I know, darling," Janeway said, sounding not convinced exactly, but obviously trying hard for Seven's sake. Then she smiled and lifted her head, looking down into Seven's face. "Thank you for distracting me so wonderfully."

Seven quirked an eyebrow. "Every day I become stronger," she said. "I will be able to 'distract' you often."

Janeway searched her partner's face intently. "A few weeks," she said, not quite a question, but certainly not a statement of fact either.

"Voyager will find us by then," Seven said with assurance. "Even if this is the last system they check, they will not leave this sector of space until they have determined our fate." She raised an eyebrow. "Would you, if it was anyone else in the crew who was lost?"

Janeway inhaled slowly. "No, I wouldn't," she allowed.

"Then, do not expect any less from your crew," Seven told her seriously.

The corner of the captain's mouth turned up in a crooked smile. "I won't," she said.

Seven smiled and reached up, drawing her fingers along her partner's cheek, then placed the fingertips beneath her chin and drew her face down so that she could touch her lips to hers. "I love you," she whispered when they parted after the long, loving kiss. "Even when it is very difficult between us, I still love you with all that I am."

"I love you, too," Janeway said, kissing her again. She rested her forehead against Seven's, closing her eyes. "I don't like it when we fight, darling. It's absolute misery, as a matter of fact."

"It is," Seven agreed. She paused. "I cannot help being angry about yo-- the decision made over the infant, Kathryn. I try not to be. I try very hard to understand it ... but in the end, I cannot. I still feel we would have been the better parents for her."

"I know, darling," Janeway said sorrowfully. "But I feel that she is much better off where she is. There's no way to resolve that unless one of us changes her mind, and that would require that we change who we are and how we think as individuals." She stroked Seven's chest lightly with her fingertips. "It's not so simple as to us merely agreeing to disagree. There's a great deal of emotional involvement here on your part ... and on mine."

Seven nodded. "I know we have not been able to discuss this rationally before now," she said. She took a breath. "I have said many hurtful things to you during this time. Worse, I knew they would be extremely hurtful to you, which is exactly why I said them." She swallowed, tears stinging her eyes. "I am sorry."

"I know," Janeway said. Her face was soft and vulnerable. "I said a few things I shouldn't have said either. I'm not going to say I didn't mean to hurt you because, as you've already pointed out, we said them in order to be hurtful. But I am sorry I gave into my anger and tried to hurt you that way. Just know that no matter how badly my words were able to make you feel, the memory of how your face looked as I said them will always rip me up inside ... long after we've resolved this initial disagreement in our own minds."

Seven nodded. "I understand," she said softly. "This is the power we have over each other, to be able to hurt each other so badly with just words."

Janeway lowered her eyes. "You possess my heart, darling," she admitted quietly. "I gave it to you freely and it is yours to treat as you would. I will never regret giving it to you, no matter what you do with it."

"And you have mine," Seven agreed, pulling Janeway closer, feeling the captain nestle her head on her shoulder. She closed her eyes, resting her cheek against her partner's soft hair, swallowing hard. "I promise to take better care of your heart in the future, Kathryn."

"I will take better care of yours, too, my love," Janeway whispered.

Seven hugged her tightly, drawing the blankets around them, listening to the wind whistle around the shuttle. At the fore viewports, snow was beginning its familiar ticking sounds as it hit the transparencies, and she brushed her lips over Janeway's forehead.

"Tomorrow, I shall go out and help you move the snow," she said.

"Seven..." Janeway began.

"If I am capable of it," she finished. "Kathryn, I am your partner. We will both need to contribute to survive."

Janeway hesitated, then exhaled audibly. "If you're up for it," she murmured.

"I will be," Seven said with assurance. She paused, absorbed in the warmth of her partner. "Kathryn, I am sorry. It is my fault that we crashed."

Janeway lifted her head again, staring down at her partner in astonishment. "How can it be your fault?" she said, her eyes wide. "I was the one who chose to enter the wave front."

"I detected the anomalous readings in the sensor scans," Seven said.

"And you reported it," Janeway countered. "I made the decision. Crashing was my fault."

"But I failed to give you a clear and concise report," Seven insisted stubbornly. "I allowed my anger to affect my duty and rather than present a logical case as to why you should not enter the wave front, I ... sulked."

"Seven, I am the one who--" Janeway started to reply, then stopped and looked thoughtful as if she realized that Seven was not going to be entirely reasonable about according blame in this ... any more than she was ready to. "All right, let's just say we both let our tempers affect our better judgment," she said finally, sighing. "It got us into some serious trouble and now we're both paying for it."

Seven considered it. "Very well," she allowed. She regarded Janeway evenly. "I will not allow such lack of professionalism to happen again."

"Neither will I." Janeway smiled crookedly. "Certainly the consequences should be more than enough to teach us a powerful lesson," she added dryly.

Seven nodded. "You are correct." She regarded her spouse closely. "Hungry?"

Janeway blushed and grinned ruefully. "After making love in the afternoon? Always," she admitted. "Do you feel up to making dinner tonight? Or shall I have the honors of pulling the heating tabs?" B'Elanna glanced toward the front of the shuttle where Ensign White quietly went about her duties at the helm, not looking around, completely immersed in what she had to do. That allowed the Klingon to surreptitiously shoot a look to her right where Lt. Commander Tuvok worked at the tactical station, running sweep after sweep of sensor scans through the system they were in.

The Klingon had, for the past few months, been avoiding the Vulcan whenever possible. It had not been entirely easy, particularly on a ship the size of Voyager, but she had managed it quite nicely, limiting their interaction to staff meetings and the rare shared bridge duty shifts. She supposed that perhaps he had subtly assisted her by not actively seeking the engineer out, either, even though she had been, prior to the incident, taking anger management courses with him. It was almost as if they both understood that the incident, or rather, the woman involved in it, was not something to discuss until B'Elanna had resolved it in her mind.

"Tuvok," the Klingon offered tentatively, "do you think we'll be able to find them in time?"

"You know, as well as I, how resourceful both the captain and Seven can be," he pointed out, his dark eyes intent on his board. "If I am forced to speculate on their fate, I would prefer to speculate in terms of their survival, rather than their demise."

"Does that make you an optimist?" B'Elanna said dryly. "In Vulcan terms?"

"No," Tuvok responded shortly. "It does not."

B'Elanna stifled her grin and ran another sweep, seeking out any trace of an ion trail, or even antimatter, which would have been left behind, even had the Delta Flyer been destroyed. That thought swept the momentary humor from her mind, and she wondered what would happen if they didn't find the captain and Seven. Or worse, found their remains. Originally quite hostile to the young woman, B'Elanna had gradually warmed up to her, particularly after Seven had begun her relationship with the captain. The two women, Klingon and Borg, had developed a close friendship, and even to a certain extent, a little attraction on B'Elanna's part toward the cool, blonde Seven, though of course, the engineer would never approach another woman's mate ... particularly the captain's mate. Eventually, B'Elanna developed her own relationship with Ro Laren, and her attraction to Seven waned, but never the friendship. To lose the woman, to no longer have Seven as a part of her life, was something that B'Elanna simply did not want to contemplate. But as the days went by and the crew searched each potential landing site, the hope grew dimmer. The shuttles had been searching around the clock for a week and were only now beginning a sweep through the second system. Even the new device Icheb had developed to detect Seven's Borg signature that Tuvok had finally brought on board the past two days, hadn't made so much as a peep.

B'Elanna decided that she needed to think about something else, but unfortunately, that brought her back to the Vulcan sitting across from her. A few months earlier, he had experienced a physiological condition known as Pon farr, 'the time of mating' which every Vulcan went through every seven years in order to insure the continuation of the species. As a bonded male, with his wife thousands of light-years away in the Federation, Tuvok was unable to fulfill this biological directive. He had managed to stave it off for more than a year through meditation and drugs, but eventually it overwhelmed his best efforts, and he prepared to do the honorable thing of dying quietly in the privacy of his quarters. Lt. Ro Laren, however, was not prepared to allow that to happen, and she offered herself to him as a surrogate. B'Elanna had been wild when Ro had told her, and it had almost ended their relatively new relationship.

Somehow, they had come to terms with it ... or rather, B'Elanna finally did, accepting that Ro had done what she had to do and would again if required. The Bajoran was a fiercely independent woman, as was B'Elanna, and eventually the Klingon had understood that it was a matter of honor for Ro.

Yet, a part of her remained ... leery. Ro had the greatest respect for the Vulcan; he had been her friend and mentor for years, and the Bajoran was probably the only woman who Tuvok would have allowed to help him. B'Elanna knew that she should respect that, but she still felt ... threatened by it.

"You wish to ask me something, Lieutenant?" Tuvok said.

B'Elanna blinked and realized she had allowed her thoughts to wander, flushing faintly. She shot another glance at White, the ensign completely involved in her piloting, and considered it quickly, realizing this was her chance ... indeed, it might be her only chance ... to speak with Tuvok about this. To somehow ... what? Find out if he was in love with Ro? Ask him if he intended to pursue the Bajoran? Did he want to duel to the death for her hand? It sounded stupid even as she thought about it. Even if he did harbor personal feelings for Ro, he would never act on them, considering them to be completely illogical. Not to mention the fact that he was completely in love with his wife to whom he was bonded, for Kahless's sake.

The important question was whom did Ro love? B'Elanna stared at the controls of her engineering station. Who wore her earring of commitment?

She glanced at the Vulcan.

"No, sir," she said, her neck and shoulder muscles relaxing for the first time since she had started this search with the security chief. "Nothing at all."

Tuvok glanced at her, his dark eyes studying her intently. Then he dipped his head, as if realizing she had reached some sort of decision about him. "Have the scans detected any debris on the third moon?"

"None," she said. She paused, glancing up at the readouts above her head, then a little of her frustration boiled over. "I think we're going about this the wrong way."

Tuvok looked at her, and even Ensign White briefly turned in her chair at the exclamation to glance back at the Klingon.

"If you have a suggestion," Tuvok noted mildly, "then I am willing to entertain it, Lieutenant."

B'Elanna hesitated, then began pulling up star charts on her board. "We have to think like the captain and Seven, try to figure out what they would do after they hit that wave front," she said.

"We determined where they would most likely have intersected the wave front," Tuvok pointed out. "And postulated that these two systems would be the most logical destination for them to have attempted to reach if they were damaged."

"But maybe we didn't have the intersection point correct," B'Elanna said, thinking furiously. "We're not taking into account that Janeway wanted to return to Voyager quickly."

"Lieutenant?" Tuvok was staring at her. "Why would you believe she was interested in such a hasty return? Indeed, it is more logical to assume that she would have taken the opportunity to spend all the time alone with her spouse that she could."

"Not if she and Seven were annoyed with each other," B'Elanna said, slamming her hand down on the console. "God, I can't believe I didn't think of this before."

Actually, she knew why she hadn't thought of it. She had been so conscious of being in a small shuttle with the security chief, whom she had perceived as her rival, she had not been utilizing her intuition. Though truth be told, the very nature of working with Vulcans tended to inhibit using one's intuition at the best of times, everyone knowing that they considered it illogical. But that had never before prevented B'Elanna from insisting upon being listened to ... she shouldn't have been so self-conscious about it now. In fact, if it turned out that her own self-absorption had prevented her from coming up with a way to find the captain and Seven sooner, and they weren't in time....

Resolutely, she forced it from her mind and began inputting data.

"Look," she said, bringing up the equations, all the possible course plotting that had gone into designing the search plan. "We determined that the Delta Flyer was approximately here when it encountered the wave front, right?"

"That is correct," Tuvok said, standing up to cross the shuttle and look over the Klingon's shoulder at the section of space outlined on the chart.

"We speculated that they would have entered the front approximately here," she continued, pointing at an area on the screen. "Or that they would have attempted to avoid the wave and plotted this course." She traced another line which was in green. "In both cases, the nearest system would have been the one we just finished searching, or at last resort, the system we're about to search."

"Your point, Lieutenant?" Tuvok said shortly.

B'Elanna inhaled slowly. The Vulcan had not dismissed anything yet, which indicated he was listening. "We're assuming that she maintained a velocity of warp factor five, the average cruising speed of the Flyer, which doesn't put any undue stress on the engines. But what if the captain was really in a hurry to return to Voyager, to the extent that she took the risk of stressing the engines by running at warp eight?" She looked up at Tuvok and he frowned faintly, so faintly that it would be undetectable in a Human. For a Vulcan, it was telling indeed.

"Why do you speculate that she would be engaging in such behavior?" he asked.

B'Elanna shot a look at White who took the hint and returned her attention to the helm, then looked seriously at Tuvok. "Because Seven was really angry with the captain about returning the child to her people," she explained quietly, confidentially. "I think Seven had it in her mind that she was going to raise that baby herself, with the captain. When Janeway made the trip, I know Seven only went along with the intention of somehow preventing the exchange of custody. Now we know they left the baby with the Mutrani, so Seven would have been really distressed by it ... to the point where she would be pretty unpleasant to be around."

"How do you know this?" he asked, though she noted that he had still not dismissed it out of hand.

"Seven is my friend," she said simply. "And sometimes a friend sees more than a spouse does."

He lifted an eyebrow. "Very well," he said evenly. "Continue your speculation."

She nodded and continued to input information into her board, altering the star chart. "All right, so the captain is trapped on the Delta Flyer with a severely agitated and volatile Borg," she said, plotting a new course. "She wants to get back to Voyager as soon as she can. She runs the engines at warp eight, anticipating that the Flyer would be rendezvousing with us before they underwent any sort of damage. She might even have plotted a course back to us that she might not have otherwise plotted ... say, skirting this gas cloud here because it's shorter if a little more risky."

Tuvok hesitated, then nodded. "The captain is known for taking a calculated risk now and again," he admitted. He paused. "Sometimes even, a somewhat ... reckless risk. However, it would be illogical to risk the Delta Flyer simply because she was ... angry. She is much more controlled and rational than that."

"Not when it comes to Seven," B'Elanna reminded him pointedly.

He thought about that. "Continue," he invited.

"Assuming she was pushing the engines, that would have put the Flyer here when they first picked up indications of a wave front, and if she didn't hesitate much about the intensity of it, gambling that the Delta Flyer could withstand the turbulence, they would have hit it about here," she concluded triumphantly, pointing at the new intersection area.

"Seven would have raised questions about any possible threats to the vessel that could be detected in the wave front," Tuvok reminded. "They would have tried to reverse course and run ahead of it back toward the Mutrani homeworld."

"But they're angry with each other, so they're probably not communicating the way they normally do," B'Elanna persisted, elaborating on her scenario. "Nor are the Flyer's sensors up to detecting magnetic strands of that size in all that ionic radiation." She shook her head. "No, Captain Janeway would have tried to plow right through it."

Tuvok was silent, obviously considering her arguments. B'Elanna dared to add to it.

"If I'm right, then that's why we didn't find anything in the last system, and why we probably won't find anything in this system," she said. "They would have tried to make the third system, which we won't be searching for another week or possibly even two. I say we search it now." She brought up the third system on the screen above her. "There's only one habitable planet in that system with an oxygen/nitrogen atmosphere, and it's in a glacial period. Assuming they made it there and they're alive, another week or so could be critical."

"Your speculation as to the captain and Seven's state of mind could be entirely incorrect," Tuvok noted.

"Yes," B'Elanna agreed. "But our original search plan was based on the speculation that this was a perfectly normal away mission for them. However, in that case, we should have found some trace of them in the last system. In truth, the system that we're about to search is actually the least likely."

"However, it has two M-class planets with moderate ... one might even say, comfortable ... climactic and environmentally sound conditions, whereas the last system had geologically unstable planets," Tuvok argued.

B'Elanna eyed him closely. He wasn't being contrary, she decided. He wanted to be convinced, but she would have to be logical about it.

"If the Delta Flyer was disabled by magnetic strands, as we are projecting, their life support would have been compromised and the comfort of the nearest habitable planet would have been irrelevant, Tuvok," she said. "They should have been in the last system. They weren't. I'm betting they were already long past here before they hit the wave front ... much closer to Voyager than our initial guess had them, and on a totally different track."

He inhaled slowly, then moved purposely to the front of the shuttle. "Open a channel to Voyager," he said.

B'Elanna breathed a sign of relief as he told Chakotay that he wished to alter the search pattern, heading for system with the glacial M-class planet rather than where they had been originally intending to search.

And hoped to Kahless her guess was right. The sky was the most brilliant blue that Seven had ever seen. Somehow she had never noticed it while in the shelter of the shuttle, but out here, in the air so cold and clean it was like inhaling daggers, the sky was more blue than she thought blue could be. She was amazed, gazing up at it in fascination, fully aware of the science of refraction and light, but never really appreciating it until now.

"It's the color of your eyes," Janeway said.

Startled, Seven glanced over at the captain who was on the top of the shuttle, taking a break from her daily task of chipping away the ice buildup on the roof solar panels. She was kneeling, her arm resting across her leg, the spanner dangling casually from her gloved hand. Lying on the roof beside her, the phaser rifle that they had used to clear away some of the snow around them, reflected the sunlight brightly, its silver finish glittering like a mirror and making the Borg blink.

"My eyes?"

"Your eyes," Janeway assured her, offering her a warm smile. "Nothing is as beautiful or as blue, but that sky comes reasonably close."

Seven smiled shyly back, pleased at both the compliment and the more playful attitude her partner was exhibiting. Obviously, making love the day before had done wonders for both the women's moods, just as the Borg had anticipated.

As Janeway went back to chipping the ice, the young woman looked down and kicked at the snow beneath her feet. The bulky jacket she was wearing made her feel clumsy, and the padded gloves made it difficult to manipulate objects which undoubtedly was the source of the litany of curses which floated through the still air. Unlike most days on this harsh world, the wind was not blowing and that made it seem warmer than it was. It had still taken a great deal of convincing to allow Seven to come outside, but in the end, Janeway had relented. Seven suspected it was the "please, Kathryn" that had worked so well for her on previous occasions and continued to work well, now.

Like profanity, she just had to remember to use its power sparingly.

A memory of an activity Naomi Wildman had once explained to her surfaced in her mind and she knelt. The snow was not particularly the best for what Seven wished to do, but she persevered and eventually she had made a snowball. She straightened and looked around, wondering what she should do with it now.

It had already left her hand before she had completed the thought, the impulse being as strong as any she had ever felt before, and she watched aghast as it thudded heavily into the side of Janeway's hood. The captain, already kneeling, was knocked over onto her side, and she shrieked in outrage before rolling immediately to her feet and glaring at Seven who was still somewhat confounded by her own actions.

"Oh, you think that's funny, do you?" Janeway exclaimed and launched herself from the roof.

Seven, who had not known what to think at all, let alone be amused by it, was astonished as Janeway flew through the air like an ungainly bird and landed in the soft drift beside her, rolling down to tackle the Borg and toppling her into the pile of snow. Startled, uttering an involuntary yelp of delight, Seven rolled over and over with the captain, both getting far too much cold stuff into their hoods and down their necks but not enough to keep them from wrestling playfully. When they finally paused for breath, Janeway was on top, looking down at her partner with a grin. Her eyes were a bright blue and her face was rosy in the chill air.

"Are you all right?" she asked, a trace of concern crossing her face.

"I am fine," Seven remarked and heaved the captain off her, rolling over to pin her in the drift. Her face only inches away from her, she took the opportunity to kiss her partner, then when that went rather well, kissed her again.

"I'll say you're more than fine," Janeway grinned, when they finally parted. "But how do your lungs feel?"

"Better," Seven told her. "Much better. I believe that with the food and the rest, my nanoprobes are operating at peak capacity now and have healed the last of my injuries." She gently brushed her lips over the section of the captain's cheekbone where a bruise had faded completely, but had been spectacular at its height. "How do you feel?"

"Like I can conquer the universe," Janeway murmured. "So long as you love me."

"I always will," Seven promised. She covered the captain's mouth with her own, the kiss suddenly becoming more intense, sensual. "Have you finished on the roof? Let us return to the shuttle."

Janeway rubbed the tip of her cold nose against her partner's. "What did you have in mind?" she asked playfully.

Seven, about to respond with something provocative, abruptly stopped, her head raising as her enhanced hearing detected something she had not expected to hear in the daytime ... paws moving across the snow pack.

"Something is coming," she said in alarm, scrambling to her feet. To her horror, she realized that Janeway had left the phaser rifle on the roof of the shuttle ... not that it would have done them much good. They had drained almost all of the power pack to remove the snow around the shuttle, and all they did have for defense was the spanner, which Janeway had been using to chip away at the ice. The snow had muffled the sound of the approaching creature until it was very close, and Seven knew they didn't have the time needed to reach the sanctuary of the shuttle's airlock, though the captain was already moving toward it.

Then it appeared on the high point of the drift above them, and they had no time at all.

The captain whirled, mouth working in the cold air but no sound coming out as she looked at the beast. She scrabbled for the spanner in her pocket, pulling it out defensively, but it seemed ludicrously tiny when compared to what they were facing. The animal was four footed, not traveling upright on hind legs as the creatures which had been appearing at night did, nor was it the slightest bit humanoid in appearance. Indeed, Seven's eidetic mind immediately categorized it as feline in nature, with long teeth that curved down on either side of the jaw, its eyes red and glowing with the fire of a predator. It was about three times the size of Jake, the couple's Irish Setter, and had powerful muscles rippling beneath a coat of pure white. Its paws were gigantic, not only to allow it to travel over the crust of the snow, but also to hold the razor sharp claws it displayed. Obviously, it had been drawn by the women's yelps and shrieks as they played, interpreting it to mean prey in trouble.

Seven didn't hesitate, placing herself between Janeway and the creature which had tensed, muscles coiled, before springing on the Borg. It was amazingly heavy, knocking Seven easily to the ground, and she felt the wicked claws rip at her abdomen as her left hand grabbed the nearest fang in order to hold the mouth away from her. She had an instant to hope that Janeway was using the opportunity to get to the safety of the shuttle. That hope was dashed immediately as, to her horror, the captain leaped upon the creature's back, smashing at its head with the spanner.

Seven would never forget the look on her wife's face for as long as she lived, the expression of unbridled rage and primeval instinct that went beyond any sort of intellect or reason. The spanner was a mere toy, the 24th century equivalent to a screwdriver or a wrench, but Janeway used it with as much determination as the creature was using its teeth and claws, driving it point first into the feline's eye, directly into it's brain. It was an act of sheer desperation, a move that held no particular skill or foresight, but rather pure, unsullied luck in its execution. For all of that, however, it was immediately successful.

The creature shuddered once, and died, collapsing on the Borg who was still holding its head away from her throat.

There was a pause, as if the entire planet had stopped rotating, and Seven realized it had only taken seconds from the time the creature appeared until it had met its final fate at the hands of a terrified and fiercely protective Starfleet captain. She took a breath, astonished to find herself still alive, then finally recognized that her partner was screaming at her, tugging ineffectually at the corpse pinning Seven to the ground. It occurred to the Borg that for someone for whom 'killing' was not in her nature, Janeway was remarkably efficient at it when she had to be.

Seven wormed her left hand under the chest of the creature and heaved, managing to lift it enough to wiggle out. As soon as she did, she was pounced on again, this time by her spouse who was pushing and tugging at her, not giving her a chance to respond with anything beyond the understanding of Janeway's determined need to get to shelter. Seven managed to stumble into the shuttle's airlock, guided there by the captain whose eyes were darting here and there, the whites of them showing significantly.

Inside the chill, aft compartment, Janeway anxiously examined her spouse, and Seven wondered how the captain could even see what she was looking at, so great was the contrast in illumination from the bright glare of sun and snow outside, to this dim, dark interior. It took her a moment to regain her own vision, and she looked down, understanding for the first time that the heavy, padded jacked she was wearing had been the only thing that had saved her. It was in shreds, but it had kept the claws from immediately disemboweling the Borg. The only real wound she had suffered was a long gash down her right leg which seemed to have avoided severing any major arteries. Uncertainly, Seven shed the remains of the coat, putting her weight completely on her left leg as the blood ran freely down the other to pool on the deck next to the water from the melting snow.

"Quickly, get into the cockpit where I can treat that," Janeway demanded flatly.

Astounded, Seven looked at her partner, wondering how she could be so calm and collected, then realized that the captain was operating purely on training and conditioning for this crisis situation. In truth, one look at the stormy grey eyes told the Borg that Janeway was in a sort of shock, not thinking of anything that had just happened, or anything that would happen, just what needed to be done in the immediate now.

Seven limped into the cockpit with Janeway's help and collapsed in the chair at ops, grimacing as the pain in her leg made itself felt. She watched as Janeway sterilized the wound with the dermal regenerator, before healing the flesh, closing the gash entirely. All that was left of the bloody wound was a pink line, which would eventually fade in time. That was when the regenerator began to tremble, and wordlessly, Seven took it from the woman's hand before Janeway could drop it, gathering the captain up in her arms, pulling her onto her lap where she held her tightly.

"It is all right, Kathryn," the Borg whispered. "We are alive."

Janeway didn't weep, but her face was as pale as the snow outside and she was shuddering violently ... so violently that she could barely keep her face pressed against Seven's neck, cowering in the Borg's strong arms which clasped her so securely. Seven didn't try to stop the reaction, merely cradled her partner until she was through the worst of it, whispering words of comfort and assurance, never ceasing in letting Janeway know how much she loved her, how much she needed her, how very brave and fearless her partner had been, how proud she was of her.

"Oh, god," Janeway said finally, in a voice completely unlike her own. "Let's not be doing that again."

"We will not," Seven promised.

"I need to go back out and get the rifle," Janeway said, but she didn't move and Seven didn't let her.

"We will," the Borg promised. "In a moment."

She looked deep into the woman's eyes, then kissed her, pouring everything she was feeling into it, all her love, all her joy that they were alive and together ... all her lingering terror for what might have happened to her and her partner. Janeway wrapped her arms tightly about Seven's neck, kissing her back with equal fervor, both trying to convey in this physical gesture what words simply could not.

Seven's lips felt bruised when they finally parted, and she suspected Janeway's did as well. "Let us retrieve the rifle," she said. "And complete our tasks. I will stand guard."

"All right," Janeway agreed, still a little shaky.

Seven acquired a second phaser rifle from the weapons compartment and carried it as they moved into the aft cargo bay. There, Janeway donned the jacket she had shed in such haste, and dug out another from the locker for Seven. That left one spare garment and the Borg hoped they would not require it. Outside, she waited near the hatch, alertly looking around as Janeway quickly scrambled up onto the roof and retrieved the rifle she had left there earlier. The corpse of the animal which had attacked them lay in the snow, the blood congealing around the silver spike of the spanner as the body rapidly froze. Seven decided that they might need the device, and forced herself to move over to it, prying the tool from the eye socket. It took her a moment to realize the shadows on the snow did not come from the animal or herself, but rather from something behind her. Heart in her throat, she turned, raising the rifle defensively.

"Kathryn." Seven felt dizzy, staring up at the beings towering over her.

Alerted by the tone, Janeway who had been coming around from the front of the shuttle, stopped dead behind Seven, her face paling as she hefted her useless weapon in front of her. Silhouetted against the blue sky and glaringly white snow, four creatures of the type which had been prowling around the shuttle at night, stood looking down at the two women from their impressive stature. They were holding something in their upper limbs, and Seven realized that they were crude spears or walking sticks of some kind, meaning that the women's initial perception of these beings as animals had been incorrect.

However, it did not indicate just how sentient they were, and Seven raised her rifle warningly, her pale eyes darting quickly about the area. One sweep of the phaser beam would take out the quartet she decided dispassionately, figuring the odds of her being able to do it before any of them would be able to raise the possible weapons in their hands and throw any at her or her partner.

Then several more of the beings suddenly appeared from the snow around them, and Seven knew she and her partner had just run out of options. Another, more powerful wave of dizziness rolled over her, and uncertainly, she swayed, turning to face her partner, opening her mouth to cry out. The last thing she saw was Janeway's horrified face as she toppled over, darkness overwhelming her completely. One Week Later

The ready room was a pool of blissful warmth as the captain leaned back on her chair, feeling relief and pleasure in equal measure at being back on her beloved vessel once again. The soft hum of the warp engines filled her ears with its song, and the soft support of the cushion beneath her was a luxury beyond measure.

"They call themselves the Inukshuut," Janeway said, basking in the heat that surrounded her, though Chakotay seemed a bit uncomfortable, unfastening his tunic a little, a thin trickle of sweat appearing at his temple. "And their planet is known as Icinus which, roughly translated, means 'world of white'."

"Appropriate," he said, lifting his ice water and taking a long swallow. Janeway stifled a smile and took pity on the man.

"Computer, lower ambient temperature five degrees," she said. After all, her sense of constantly being cold was purely psychosomatic, and she really didn't need it so warm in the ready room. Picking up her lucky cup, she took a gulp of coffee. It occurred to her that while she could survive such harsh planetary conditions, one more day without a mug of her most predominant vice would have simply killed her.

"In any event," she continued, placing the cup carefully on the desk, "they're not as primitive as they appear, having a fairly advanced sense of astronomy and a long, oral tradition passed down through generations stretching back hundreds of thousands of years. It's a shame really. They evolve a civilization, pull themselves up out of the level of bearskins and knives, as it were, then the planet is plunged back into another ice age. Most planets get tens of thousands of years between such climactic changes ... the Inukshuut only have two or three thousand before having to start all over again."

She sighed. "If this were the Alpha Quadrant, I could take their case to the Federation, where possibly we could try to find a way to help," she said. She paused, shaking her head. "Here in the Delta Quadrant, there's nothing we can do."

Chakotay tilted his head. "To be honest, there might not be anything we could do there, either," he said. "Since they have yet to develop warp drive, the Prime Directive would prevent us from providing any aid."

"I guess you're right," she said, contemplating her computer console which displayed an image of the planet she and her spouse had just been rescued from. "But I don't believe offering aid should be solely dependent on space technology. Their underground villages and the ways they survive on that world are testament to great engineering skill and ability."

"So your report noted," he said. He took another sip of his water. "Why did they finally decide to contact you?"

Janeway rolled her eyes, disgusted at herself. "Honestly, sometimes I outsmart myself. Barouk'na popped by every night there wasn't a storm, just to see how we were doing. We responded by huddling in our ship like rabbits, refusing to come out and say 'hi'. He decided that if we didn't want to be bothered, he certainly wasn't going to bother us. Instead, he took the long view, deciding that eventually we would come to realize he meant no harm, getting us used to his presence before taking the first step of actual 'first contact' communication. But when they discovered a snolion was on the prowl, his tribe decided they had better look us up and give us some warning."

"Sounds like a fairly reasonable sort of approach to life," Chakotay said, grinning faintly. He nodded at the snowy skin stretched out on the bulkhead behind the captain, the perfectly preserved head remaining to show the ferocious curving fangs. "I bet they were impressed with you, oh, Mighty Hunter."

Janeway blushed, embarrassed, yet slightly smug at the same time. "It was nice of them to prepare the hide for me," she admitted. She inhaled slowly. "But I honestly don't know how impressed they were with us. I don't think they could decide if we were incredibly smart for building such a strong little vessel that it could survive a crash in the middle of nowhere, or the stupidest beings in the universe for not knowing how to tap the geothermal energies of a planet to keep warm. After all, our solar power would only work in the dead of summer with the longer days, and once winter came, we would have really been in trouble." She resisted the urge to shiver at the thought of what 'winter' was like if the conditions she and Seven had been surviving had been 'summer'. Ruefully, she glanced over her shoulder at the snarling visage displayed behind her. "They did find it noteworthy that I managed to kill the beast with only a tool. A little primitive by their standards, but worthy of a song." Her face flushed as she remembered the song the tribe's bard had been working on when the two women had been rescued. Hopefully, she would never have cause to hear it.

"How's Seven doing?" he asked. Obviously, he remembered how pale the Borg had been upon the Edison's return to the ship, carried to sickbay on a stretcher by B'Elanna and Tuvok. The Borg had remained in the medical center ever since, only regaining her senses the day after Voyager had beamed up the Delta Flyer wreckage. It had been secured it in the hangar deck where Tom Paris had immediately set to work repairing it ... or rather, rebuilding it since all they had managed to salvage was the upper cockpit and aft compartment, along with the two nacelles which they tracked using the radiation signature, finding them a few hundred kilometers away from the crash site.

"She's certainly not enjoying her illness at all," Janeway said dryly. "She's never been this sick for this long before, but the Doctor says she'll have to remain in sickbay a few more days. It's a shame the snolion's claws had a bacteria on them that the medical tricorder didn't immediately detect. I had no idea why she collapsed so soon after the Inukshuut showed up. I thought the two things were connected, that they had attacked her mentally or used some form of weapon I couldn't detect. I especially thought that was the case when Barouk'na scooped her and her rifle up and started carrying her off."

"It must have given you quite a jolt," he said. The captain guessed that Chakotay had already read all the mission reports; he just wanted to hear the story in her own words. She decided that she didn't really mind the mild interrogation ... it delayed her return to her empty quarters for a few more hours.

"You can't imagine," she said. "There I was, struggling through the snow after him, waving my phaser rifle around, which did absolutely no good since we had drained the power pack removing the snow around the shuttle, yelling at him to stop at the top of my lungs ..."

"Not nicely, either, I'll bet," he laughed.

Janeway hesitated, then smiled faintly. "No," she allowed. "I was not particularly complimentary toward him."

"Did it translate?" he asked.

"Of course," she said. "He thought it was 'cute'." She offered him an aggrieved look. "If Barouk'na's wife hadn't come back and dragged me out of the snow drift, I would have frozen to death. God knows, I would never have caught up to them. Their feet were designed to walk on top of the snow. I went up to my hips every time I took a step." She paused. "Remind me to have snowshoes issued as standard equipment on the Delta Flyer. You just never know."

"No, you don't," he said seriously. "It was a good thing they took her, though, Captain. If they hadn't gotten her to their Healer in the village, and if he hadn't continually fed her fluids containing the serum distilled from that moss of theirs, the Doctor tells me that she might have died."

She felt the words to the very core of her. "I know," she whispered.

Another foolish mistake to feel guilty over. Why hadn't she scanned the wound closer, run a more detailed analysis on it before closing it up with the dermal regenerator? Or more importantly, used a hypospray to inject another broad band spectrum of antiviral agents. The regenerator only healed the flesh; it could do nothing about the bacteria which had already gotten into the Borg's blood stream before the captain sterilized the wound. Of course, it was also logical to assume that Seven's nanoprobes would have been able to take care of any such pathogen, as they had in the past, and they probably would have in this instance as well ... if they hadn't just pressed themselves to the limit to finish healing the young woman's injuries from the crash. Still, Janeway should have ran a full medical scan on her partner after the injury, and being in shock from killing the snolion with her bare hands was not an acceptable excuse to her. She had decided that the real problem was that she had gotten so used to Seven being strong and invincible, of the Borg looking after the captain on away missions, instead of the other way around, that she had let her guard down. This had been a tough lesson for both them in learning just what the limitations of the young woman's nanoprobes really were.

He had the grace to look embarrassed for what he had said, realizing how much the words would have affected the captain, even though it was after the fact. "Sorry," he muttered. "I know it wasn't easy for you."

"It wasn't," she agreed. "But the Inukshuut were very hospitable to Seven and me, and even the sight of Tuvok and B'Elanna materializing in the village square didn't give them much of a pause. They simply pointed them in the direction of the Healer's hut and told them where they could find us."  She shook her head and decided not to mention the padds she had left behind for the tribe to study. If the information contained in them helped the Inukshuut find a way to survive better in their harsh world, so be it.

He also seemed to recognize that he had stayed as long as he should. "Working late?" he asked, uncoiling from his chair.

"I want to catch up on a few reports that I've been letting slide for a few weeks," she said. 'I'll probably remain on duty for a few more hours."

"Okay, I guess I'll call it an evening," he said. "It's been an intense couple of weeks here." He paused and grinned at her. "Sometimes I don't know how you do it, Kathryn."

"Sometimes," she said ruefully, "neither do I."

After he left, she stood up and moved around the desk, ascending to the upper level where she stood, looking out at the stars flying by, distorted by the warp bubble that surrounded her ship. Icinus lay far behind them now, and the deceptively simple people who had helped her and Seven were figures of her past. Now it was time to look ahead to what the future held in store.

But every so often, Captain Janeway ached for the worlds she left behind in the Delta Quadrant, knowing that she would probably never see their like again.

The captain refilled her coffee cup and sipped the dark brew slowly, lingering over the flavor, though it didn't come from her wife, but from the replicator. It was a measure of her deprivation the past two weeks that this actually tasted good to her. Mostly, however, it tasted hot, and that was exactly what she wanted. There was still a chill within her that could not be warmed by the comfortable, even temperature of her ship or even the hottest of drinks. Indeed, it would probably not be assuaged until her partner left sickbay and they were together once more. Perhaps she would make a point of spending some time in sickbay, sitting with Seven for awhile, before she returned to their quarters. It would make her feel less ... alone.

There was a chime at the door and she inhaled slowly, composing her command mask before turning her head.

"Come."

She was mildly surprised to see Ro Laren enter, the slender Bajoran smoothly ascending the stairs to where the captain waited.

"Lieutenant," she greeted, eyeing her curiously.

"Captain," Ro replied courteously. "Is this a bad time?"

Janeway smiled crookedly, considering the tone of the words, able to determine a great deal from what lay behind them. "That depends," she said. "Is this bad news?"

Ro dipped her head, acknowledging the captain's prescience with a faint smile. "You may think so," she allowed dryly.

Janeway quirked her eyebrow. "Have a seat," she said, taking one of her own on the sofa and preparing herself mentally. In truth, she actually enjoyed sparring with the Bajoran. Ro was quick and clever, and afterward, Janeway was never entirely sure she had come out on top of the conversation. That appealed to her in some odd way.

"Can I get you something?"

"No, thank you," Ro responded, and Janeway restrained her smile. One of these days, the lieutenant was going to surprise her and accept. Furthermore, she knew the only reason Ro would do such a thing would undoubtedly be because it would surprise the captain. "I actually wanted to speak with you about the first officer training routine I've been undergoing."

"You aren't getting along with Commander Chakotay?" Janeway suggested.

"Actually, we're getting along fine," Ro remarked. She folded her hands neatly on her lap and regarded her commanding officer keenly. "It's the whole concept of being a first officer with the intention of my becoming a captain." She hesitated, obviously searching for the correct words to say what she had to. "It's not for me," she said finally.

Janeway opened her mouth to immediately protest, but the stark simplicity of the words penetrated, whereas any other type of voice inflection would not. This was not an indication of insecurity on Ro's part about her abilities ... indeed, it was almost as if she was quite certain she could fulfill the role; she just knew it would not be the best thing for her.

"I don't suppose you'd care to elaborate," she offered mildly.

"One of the most important aspects of being a first officer is being able to deal with people," Ro explained. "Of being able to channel the proper officers into the proper areas, of being able to utilize personnel to the best effect."

"Of course," Janeway said. She raised her hand, gesturing in the general direction of the door, indicating the rest of her ship. "Chakotay's report gave every indication that you did a remarkable job during my absence these past two weeks. Especially when it came to finding projects to keep the Borg children occupied so that they didn't worry unduly about Seven."

"I'm not saying I can't do the job, Captain," Ro said reasonably. "I'm saying it's not what I want to do, nor is it where my natural abilities are best suited. I don't like being responsible for other people. I will accept that duty if I have to, but it is a burden that I do not wish to accept. Eventually, that antipathy would cause me to make errors in judgment ... errors that could cost lives." She inhaled deeply and leaned forward, her narrow face intent. "I'm better off as an independent, when I'm working on my own. I'm like a weapon, Captain, not a tool. You point me in a direction and I can get the job done, but use me as a tool to maintain a status quo, and it doesn't work. I'm a catalyst, not a solution."

Janeway gave her the courtesy of leaning forward herself, looking directly in her dark eyes. "I disagree," she said. "I think you have the potential to be a good captain."

"That's insufficient," Ro responded evenly, not backing down. "Starfleet has enough 'good' captains ... or rather, it did before the Dominion war. However, I have served with two 'great' captains which makes me able to appreciate the difference. I know that goal is not one I wish to pursue. What I can be, however, is a great operative. That's where my talents lie, that's where I'm best suited."

"Operative?" Janeway echoed. "As in Starfleet Intelligence?"

"Exactly," Ro said. "I've been thinking about this a lot, Captain. I miss the ... intensity of security and tactical involvement." She shook her head. "I appreciate, that at the moment, you have no use for the sort of officer I want to be. A starship is no place for an independent operative. Nor am I'm refusing to offer any of my talents for your use while I serve you. I'll even continue to fulfill the tasks of a command candidate if that's what you want, but once we return to the Alpha Quadrant, I'm going to try for a posting with Starfleet Intelligence, not pursue any kind of command track. I just thought you should know that now before this goes any further."

Janeway picked up her coffee mug, was disappointed to find it empty, and got up to retrieve another from the replicator, deciding that tea would be a better choice at the last minute.

"I appreciate your honesty, Laren," she said, taking her cup and sipping the fresh brew gingerly. "I certainly don't want you to be pushed into something that you honestly feel unsuited for."

"But you're disappointed," Ro noted dryly.

Janeway grinned faintly as she eyed the officer. "When things don't turn out as I envisioned?" she noted dryly. "Always. Just ask Seven."

That actually generated a laugh out of the stoic Bajoran. Janeway noticed that the woman was far more attractive when she was relaxed like this, and decided that this was the side of her that B'Elanna had first noticed in Ro so many months ago.

"So now I have to figure out where's the best place to put you," the captain continued, returning to the couch. "I really would rather not have you roaming around within the command chain without a specific assignment. Seven has enough problems with that, lacking a rank, but at least she has a role in astrometrics. Yet, I'm still of the opinion that you'd be wasted returning to a specific role in any single department. You have skills that allow you work in engineering and on the bridge, as well as in security."

"Unfortunately, a Scout ship is not really designed for the talents of a ... 'rover'," Ro pointed out.

"Most Scout ships are not," Janeway agreed. "However, Voyager is far from the traditional Intrepid-class vessel. Our situation has forced us to be." She paused, her mind working furiously, and Ro waited patiently for the captain to make a determination of some sort. But finally, Janeway was forced to shake her head. "It's too late for me to make any kind of concrete decision tonight. Let me think on it for a few more days. I'll speak with Chakotay and Tuvok, and possibly we'll be able to find the proper niche for you on the ship."

"Thank you, Captain," Ro said sincerely, and Janeway wondered if the Bajoran had thought she would be perturbed that the Starfleet officer had not blindly followed the path the captain had laid out for her. She hoped she would never be such a stubborn leader that she could not adjust to the individual needs of her crew, and wondered if perhaps there were other crewmembers on her ship that felt out of place on Voyager. Maybe she should direct Seven to the problem. A project like that would keep her occupied during the remainder of her stay in sickbay, and since unhappy people generally tended to be inefficient workers, the Borg would be able to root them out quicker than anyone.

After Ro left, Janeway finished up a few more tasks and logged off duty, heading for sickbay. The medical center was quiet, and she smiled faintly as she saw her partner sitting up in the biobed, peering intently at a padd while three more lay scattered on the blanket. Obviously, she had annoyed the Doctor enough that he had allowed the Borg to do some work. Janeway knew better than anyone how irritating Seven could be when she was trying to make someone else do something.

That put her in mind of their recent conflict over the Borg infant, and her eyes were somber as she pulled up a chair and sat next to the young woman.

"What is wrong, Kathryn?" Seven asked, putting down her padd immediately, as she peered into her partner's face.

The captain sighed and took the young woman's hand in her own, bringing it to her lips where she kissed it gently.

"Nothing, darling," she said. "I'm just missing you."

Seven eyed her. "Perhaps you could persuade the Doctor that I would be better off spending the remainder of my recovery in our quarters," she suggested with such bland innocence that the captain had no choice but to laugh out loud.

"The last time I let you go back to duty a little too quickly, I ended up having to wrestle a snolion off you," Janeway noted, squeezing the hand and looking affectionately at her spouse. "Obviously, I can't be trusted to make the right decision when it comes to how quickly you make a recovery; therefore, I must leave it up to the Doctor's discretion." The expression on the young woman's face indicated that she was about to argue strenuously about her spouse's perception of the experience, but Janeway forestalled it by leaning over and resting her head on her partner's lap. "Why don't you tell me what you've been working on, darling, before I have to go home to our lonely bed," she added softly, in her most entreating tone.

There was a pause, then Janeway felt her partner's hand gently stroke her hair, tucking it behind her ear with a delicate touch, and the captain closed her eyes blissfully under the loving caress. Quietly, Seven began to explain her current research on the slip stream drive, particularly how the new ideas Dr. Leah Brahms had introduced into it were affecting how she was applying certain techniques to the integrity fields.

Janeway listened closely, finally feeling like she was now, truly home.

Epilogue

Seven sat up in the biobed and activated the light above her head. It was the mid-point of gamma watch and she found it difficult to remain asleep. Janeway had sat with her until she was almost falling over in her chair, and at that point, Seven had demanded that her spouse go to bed, which surprisingly enough, the captain obeyed. However, that didn't make it any easier for Seven to rest, now.

She found a padd that wasn't full of slip-stream projections or crew manifest profiles required by the new project the captain had suggested she pursue, and accessed the program the Borg normally used to write her personal letters. She hesitated, staring a moment at the small screen, uncertain about her need to do this, then inhaled slowly. Sek was currently in her office, speaking with a crewmember who worked the beta shift, while the Doctor could be seen through the transparencies of the sickbay CMO's room. Seven began to input data, maintaining a manual feed rather than a verbal one, not wanting either Sek or the Doctor to hear her and leave their tasks to demand she sleep. Or worse, sedate her.

Seven found being ill very inefficient.

She knew that she could wait and speak to Sek about this, but for some reason, she found it easier to put her thoughts about the past month in the form of a letter to her sister-in-law. It just felt more efficient and logical to her. After all, Phoebe knew Kathryn far better than anyone else on the ship did, and she would understand what it was that most upset Seven about some of the captain's actions.

And perhaps when she was finished getting it down in solid form, she really could put it all behind her. Certainly, she wanted to before she and Janeway resumed their lives as a married couple in the Delta Quadrant.

Even without any children of their own.

The End

•  This is the 35th installment in the Just Between Series.

• There are certain Accessory Alerts up for this one.

• This was posted April 14th, 2000.

Just Between Perceptions
G.L. Dartt

The bed was absolutely gigantic.

It was round and three times the size of any bed that Captain Kathryn Janeway of the USS Voyager had ever seen. It rested in a stone grotto next to a burbling fountain, the private garden surrounded by roses and other flowering plants which filled the air with a pleasant, but not overly heavy scent. A profusion of candles lining the rock formations lit the evening with a flickering, romantic illumination, reflecting off the fountain's pool like stars, as a warm, gentle breeze flowed over the captain's naked skin like the whisper of a thousand butterfly wings.

As holoprograms went, Janeway thought it was one of her better efforts, and since the person she had specifically designed it for had espoused the belief that it was quite ... "acceptable" ... the captain decided to be satisfied with it. She smiled and glanced at the woman sprawled over the sheets beside her, her long, lanky, nude body a streak of gold and silver against the midnight blue linen. Seven of Nine, late of the Borg Collective, raised her eyebrow inquiringly, hands linked neatly on her stomach as she waited patiently for Janeway to make up her mind.

Because they were in this artificial reality, the entire catalogue of items listed in the ship's entertainment replicator buffer were available for use. A plethora of those selections were spread out on the bed around the couple as the captain and Seven looked them over, seeking something that would be new and different to add variety to their love life. In fact, it was considered a wise idea to try out any type of 'accessory' in the holodeck before actually replicating a more permanent version. Janeway grinned fondly as she picked up a Wonder Wand 9000™, casting a mischievous look at her partner. Somehow, she doubted that the young woman had done a 'test drive' on the device before she spent 375 rations replicating one for the couple's personal use.

Seven smiled faintly. "It would be inefficient to utilize an item that we can use at any time under normal circumstances," she noted. "It is wasteful of the holodeck time you arranged."

"Agreed," Janeway said. "Besides, we've pretty much determined it's no good for you. I want something that you can enjoy."

Seven looked intrigued but skeptical. "Me?" she said. "Why?"

Janeway offered her a bashful smile. "I'll admit that part of it is just me wanting to know what it would be like to be inside you ... like that ... even if it's only once. I promise, though, I would never do anything to hurt you."

"I know that, Kathryn," Seven responded gravely. "That is not the slightest concern for me." She considered it. "I do admit ... I have been curious to experience what you seem to enjoy so much. If only to discover if I would find it equally as pleasurable."

Janeway patted her on the leg. "Thank you, darling," she said gratefully. "I'm not saying we'll find anything you'll enjoy, but we should take a look at what's available while we have the opportunity. It's not often that I can arrange for four hours of private holodeck time at once."

"Indeed," Seven noted. "What do you suggest?"

"We need something that operates like the wonder wand as far as transmitting sensitivity to the wearer," Janeway said, scientifically going through the selection, "yet is no longer than the length of my right middle finger and no thicker than the width of two of my fingers." She grinned. "I did the measurements personally."

Seven did not smile exactly, but there was a brief indication of pink staining her cheeks and a small upturn to her lips.

"Will it be able to change color?" she asked.

Janeway did not roll her eyes, but she wanted to. "I don't know," she said, then added reluctantly. "If it has that feature however, I promise, you can choose the color."

"Thank you," Seven said with satisfaction. She sat up, looking at the selection Kathryn had been perusing. "What about that one?"

She picked out a short, thin probe, holding up the phallus which was colored a bright neon orange, rather like the traffic cones used in ground-side construction on Human inhabited planets. Janeway winced and checked the padd nearby to find out what the device featured.

"Hmm, it vibrates but there's no sensitivity capability to the wearer," she noted. "And that's the color we'd be stuck with."

"That would not work well for you," Seven agreed, putting it back. She picked out another one, a bright yellow cylinder which wobbled a little as she held it up. "This?"

"A little ... limp ... for our purposes," Janeway said, eyeing it skeptically. "And ... well, frankly, Seven, I would like one that looks like ... what it should, not a banana."

Seven raised an eyebrow. "A Human male penis?" She frowned. "Are you not limiting yourself unnecessarily with aesthetics?"

Janeway blushed faintly. "Aesthetics are very important, darling," she protested. "That's why I am so ... specific ... when it comes to programming the settings of the wand. I want it to look like it ... I mean, it should appear as if..." She trailed off uncertainly, not knowing how to say it.

"As if I had generated it purely on my own?" Seven finished for her dryly. "Or in this case, you?"

Janeway's flush deepened. "Something like that," she mumbled.

"Are we not simply talking about a matter of superficial perception?" the Borg persisted.

Janeway spread her hands out. "Sometimes, how we perceive something dictates how we react to it," she allowed. "I'm not saying it makes logical sense, it's just how it is sometimes."

"Very well," Seven allowed with that remarkably patient tone she assumed whenever she was indulging an incomprehensible whim of her partner. She looked over the selection with more care this time, and finally chose one that seemed to meet Janeway's criteria. "Here. It has the proper size dimensions, it apparently transmits sensitivity to the wearer, and the neutral shade indicates it has a color function."

"It has a chameleon function," Janeway corrected, checking the padd. "It takes on the skin tone of the wearer, but I can't make it neon blue for you, darling."

"Unfortunate," Seven noted reasonably. "However, we only have three hours and twenty-six minutes remaining in our alloted time. We must choose something if we are to do this."

"You're right," Janeway replied. "Computer, delete all the accessories but the..." she hesitated over the name, "...the Mini Marvel 450™. Provide a jar of sexual lubricant as well."

As the rest disappeared, replaced by a small jar, she placed the end of the device against herself, the bands erupting from the base to surround her hips, securing it firmly over her clitoris. She stroked a fingertip along its short length, realizing that the sensitivity was far more than she would have preferred since it immediately increased her heart rate, pleasure shooting through her with a sharp chill. However, that setting was as unalterable as the size. She would just have to control her responses, she decided. Surely, she was capable of doing that.

She was breathing deeply as she leaned back on her elbows, waiting as the narrow little probe slowly lost the greyish, neutral color that was its dormant state, and gradually altered until it matched Janeway's skin tone. It looked so oddly defiant, sprouting proudly in all its modest proportions from the auburn thatch at the juncture of the captain's legs, that Janeway had to bite her lip hard to keep from snickering.

"It is far more inefficient than the wonder wand," Seven noted, a hint of disapproval coloring her tone as they were forced to wait. She was lounging on her side, propped up on her elbow, as she regarded the device with cool antipathy.

Janeway swallowed back her laugh. "I'm sure if it gets the job done, that's all that matters," she said dryly. She looked over at her partner, her expression becoming sensual as she took in the long length of her beautiful blonde Borg. "Come here," she murmured.

Seven hesitated, teasing, and then smiled as she reached out for her, pulling the captain into her arms. Janeway gasped as she felt the probe press against the Borg's naval, and then groaned pleasurably as her partner covered her mouth with her own, the pair rolling lavishly around the gigantic bed. That was a large part of the evening's fun, the captain realized. There was just so much room on this mattress, and she wished that their quarters were big enough to accommodate such a huge piece of furniture.

They finally settled onto their sides in the exact center of the bed, kissing deeply, hands moving over each other languidly, not rushing at all, which Janeway knew would be an error. She wanted to be sure her beloved spouse was completely ready for what they were about to do, and certainly, she understood that there had to be a little hesitancy on Seven's part, particularly after their abortive attempt to utilize the wonder wand on their wedding night. The device's dimensions had turned out to be far too large for the young woman's comfort, actually hurting her slightly before Janeway realized what was happening. Despite Seven's absolute trust in her spouse, the captain knew the young woman would naturally be reluctant to engage in this experience, and Janeway was determined to proceed as slowly as her partner required. If they ended up going over their holodeck time ... well, no one else on the ship could get past the security codes she had placed on the door seal.

Sometimes, one just had to use command privilege.

She brushed her lips over Seven's ear, whispering softly as her fingers stroked the young woman, fondling her with intimate intent, telling her how good this was going to be. Seven moaned in response, either at the words or from the caress, moisture bathing the captain's hand. Carefully taking into account the young woman's respiration, the quivers rippling through her body and the amount of wetness she was generating, Janeway decided it was time. Carefully, she nudged her partner over onto her back, easing on top of her where she continued to kiss and fondle her. Seven's legs spread naturally, opening for the caresses, and taking her time, Janeway slipped her first finger into the young woman, and then gradually added her middle one, further preparing the Borg as she slowly moved them in and out while her thumb brushed over the firm little ridge.

After several glorious moments of this, Janeway had to take a few seconds to find the jar which had been displaced by their motion, finally discovering it near their feet. She opened it and scooped up a generous amount of the silky, gelatinous oil, slathering it over the probe, and then lavishly rubbing it over Seven as well. In doing so, however, the captain discovered that it was considerably harder to control herself than she had initially thought, panting heavily as she positioned herself over the blonde Borg. Resting her weight on her left elbow and knees as she wrapped her wet fingers around the small probe, she placed the little mushroom head at the opening and pressed against Seven. She found the initial entry easy, though Seven gasped and jerked convulsively at the penetration. Janeway stopped with the bulbous tip just inside, waiting breathlessly, though it was incredibly difficult for her to do so. The very thought of the intimate passions awaiting the sensitive probe infused every molecule of the captain with desire, and sent tremors of pleasure all through her, the sensors transmitting every sensation directly to her bundle of nerves. It took all her indomitable willpower not to thrust forward, not to take the plunge and be totally engulfed by that delicious heat.

"Kathryn?" Seven whispered.

"I'm right here, darling," Janeway responded, her voice shaking. "Do you want me to stop?"

A hesitation, then Seven shook her head. "No," she said in a low, uncertain voice. "I can adapt."

Janeway swallowed hard and studied her partner's face as she eased the rest of the way in, ready to stop at the slightest hint of resistance. The sensation of clinging walls was like liquid fire searing through her and she groaned, feeling herself surrounded and loving every millimeter it took to finally reach the entire ... if abbreviated ... length of it.

"God, darling, is this what you feel when you use the wand on me?" she gasped, looking down at her partner with wide eyes. "Oh, heavens, now I understand why men love us so."

Seven swallowed, her voice still uncertain. "It feels so odd, Kathryn," she murmured. "So much larger than I expected."

Concerned, the captain stopped all motion, meeting the pale gaze. "Is it hurting you?" she asked anxiously.

Seven considered it, and must have decided to test it by squeezing because pleasure blasted through Janeway as the channel closed about her, wringing another, involuntary moan of delight from her lips.

"No," Seven replied with cool dissatisfaction. "But it is not particularly pleasant, either. I do not understand why you enjoy this."

"All right," Janeway said, trying to catch her breath. She was disappointed, but not about to do anything to cause her partner discomfort. "Thank you, my darling. I just wanted to feel this once, and now that I know exactly what you feel on your end when you use the wand, I'll enjoy the experience even more. Of course, I absolutely adore the sensation of having you inside me."

"But that is not me," Seven protested. "It is a device."

"Not at the time you're loving me with it," Janeway corrected gently, wondering why she had never explained this before. "When you use it, I completely believe that it's you inside me, Annika, not some artificial device, but truly you, an extension of your body. That's why I've always enjoyed this particular act with all of my lovers, because our joining was a part of them, not something separate. In our case, it's not until afterward that I'm reminded it is only a device, and that's why it feels intrusive at that point."

She began to withdraw, but Seven forestalled the motion, placing her hand on the small Janeway's back, and holding her in place. "Wait," she said, her face thoughtful. "I must consider this."

Janeway blinked and remained where she was, completely immersed in her partner and more than glad to prolong the sensation for as long as Seven would allow it. It really did feel incredible, and the way Seven continued to adjust to the dimensions, the warm pulsations of muscle and flesh around what was essentially an extension of Janeway's own center of pleasure, served to set the captain aflame. She wanted desperately to move, to rub herself back and forth within her partner, but she didn't, remaining completely still except for the occasional tremor that rippled through her body.

"That is sufficient motivation to continue," Seven decided finally. "I will attempt to welcome ... you ... into myself." She reached up and cupped Janeway's face in her hands, kissing her softly. "I love you, Kathryn. Please, stay inside me until we are both satisfied."

"It might take some time," Janeway murmured. "Not that I'm complaining or anything."

Seven nuzzled her gently, slipping her arms around the captain's neck. "You feel wonderful," she whispered, obviously trying hard to make that final leap of faith for her partner. "Hold me, Kathryn, please hold me."

Janeway tightened her embrace and wiggled deeper, but she didn't start the in-and-out motion that her body was demanding. Instead, she forced herself to remain where she was, cradled on top of the lovely length of Seven, cushioned by the luscious breasts and flat stomach, the long legs bracketing her hips, feeling every millimeter of the warm channel squeezing so pleasurably around her. She continued to kiss her partner, soft, tender, devoted kisses, whispering words of love and adoration, carefully steering clear of any profanity as she told Seven again and again how very much she cherished her, how good it felt to share such intimacy with her.

Once again, the captain was presented with proof that great lovemaking originated in the mind and not the body. Seven's breathing gradually increased in rhythm, becoming tiny gasps, and she started to undulate beneath the captain, almost as if she were trying to pull Janeway even deeper inside her, though the captain could clearly feel the blunt head of the probe pressing against the blocked tissue within the Borg. It appeared that Seven had finally accepted the concept of this being Janeway inside her, and with that acknowledgment, she was able to appreciate the experience they were sharing, not necessarily because it was better than anything else they had done before, but because it was just as loving, just as capable of arousing and pleasuring her.

To further that pleasure, the captain lifted up briefly so that she could reach between them and fondle Seven's ridge of pleasure, brushing her fingertips back and forth over it. The yielding sheath around the probe quickly became liquid heat as a result of this stimulation, completely accommodating for Janeway. Eventually the captain eased her full weight back onto the Borg, bracing herself with her arms cradling Seven's shoulders. She began to move, sliding in and out of her partner with slow, lingering, gentle strokes, being extremely careful not to become too energetic, realizing how little length she had to work with to create this experience for her partner.

It took several minutes, but before Janeway realized what was happening, Seven was climaxing around the firm little erection, and it was a powerful orgasm, shaking her entire body. The sheer novelty of the sensation caught the captain completely off guard, and the way the young woman's interior fluttered about the probe left Janeway helpless in her response, unable to resist as she cried out loudly. Instinctively, she thrust her hips forward, burying herself as deeply as she could in her partner, feeling her own explosion impact damply all the way to the top of her head as Seven clung to her, wrapping her long legs around the captain's hips, holding her tight. It took a few moments for Janeway's heart to slow its pounding, her sweat slick skin cooling in the night, both women breathing heavily in the flickering candlelight.

"God," the captain muttered. "Not much wonder men try so hard sometimes ... we feel so incredibly wonderful when that happens."

"I understand now, Kathryn," Seven whispered. She paused, swallowing. "This is not particularly anything I wish to experience on a regular basis ... it took a great deal of imagination to maintain the illusion that it was really you ... but I believe I comprehend your enjoyment of the wonder wand a great deal better now. This was merely another part of you making love to me in a different way."

"I'm glad, darling," Janeway responded, kissing her lovingly. "I adore it when we can share our experiences."

Seven shifted uncomfortably. "However, I also understand why you wish it gone afterward," she muttered. "It does become intrusive once the fantasy has ended."

Janeway chuckled and very gently withdrew, realizing after the fact that she simply could have instructed the computer to delete the accessory while still inside the Borg. However, withdrawing from Seven so slowly had its own pleasure and she wasn't sorry she did it, particularly if this might be the only opportunity for her to experience the sensation. She did a brief visual inspection of both the probe and Seven, making sure there was no trace of blood to indicate she might have damaged any tissue ... Seven had technically been a virgin after all ... before deleting the device entirely.

The Borg's arms enfolding her were like a homecoming and Janeway snuggled into them, hugging her spouse close as they rolled around a bit more on the mattress, simply because it felt so good to do so.

Janeway laughed and kissed her tenderly. "How do you feel?" she asked. "Are you sore?"

Seven raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps a little," she admitted. She eyed Janeway slyly. "Would you 'kiss it and make it better'?"

Startled at the unexpected humor, Janeway laughed.

"I'd like nothing better, love," she murmured and pulled her close. "For the rest of the night if you'd like."

Ensign Culhean stood outside the holodeck, impatiently waiting his turn at holodeck two. The current users had already gone over their time by a good twenty minutes, and there was a security seal to prevent anyone from interrupting, not even with a hail over the comm badges. He frowned with irritation, realizing it was not unusual for people to slide over their allotted time on occasion, but wondering why it always seemed to happen to him? Especially this evening when he had finally gotten his hands on one of the new game programs from the lot Starfleet had sent in a recent communique. He couldn't wait to try it out, shifting impatiently on his feet. He started abruptly as the doors opened to reveal Captain Janeway and Seven of Nine, both women immaculately garbed in their respective uniforms, every hair in place as it always was.

He immediately smoothed out his face, realizing abruptly that the people hogging the holodeck were the captain and her spouse. He guessed he couldn't complain about it, though a part of him really wanted to.

To his surprise however, Janeway came over, an expression of sincere regret on her face.

"I apologize, Ensign," she said, in that imperious, commanding tone. "Seven and I became a little involved with the program we were running and lost complete track of time. Please feel free to utilize my next scheduled holodeck period for yourself. I assure you, I won't be requiring it."

"Uh, thank you, Captain," he said, vastly pleased by her fairness. It was far more than any other crewmember might have offered and since holodeck time was like currency on the ship, one could trade it for favors sometimes. Grabbing the captain's prime spot would be worth a lot to any crewman trying to acquire time for gaming.

He looked after them briefly as the two women walked away, side by side but not touching or even looking at each other, and he wondered what they had been running in the holodeck. Probably some scientific projections, he decided as he went over to the controls to input the parameters of his own program. Or the da Vinci art studio scenario he had heard they liked. He couldn't imagine what else they would run since neither gave any indication they liked to play games or participate in the 'open' programs, such as Sandrine's or Tom Paris's new Irish village program that the rest of the crew enjoyed.

Idly, he decided that while the two officers seemed fairly content as a couple, there was just so little sense of passion whenever one saw them together. He couldn't imagine either of the formidable women unbending enough to have gotten married in the first place, let alone to each other.

Cold fish, he thought as he activated his ski race scenario.

Seven of Nine carefully did not look at her partner as the turbolift ascended, afraid that her gaze would give her away. She was sure they both looked completely ravished, because certainly, that was how she felt as they got off on deck three and proceeded to their quarters. Inside, the couple's Irish Setter, Jake, scooted across the living area to greet them, and Janeway returned his enthusiasm, wrestling briefly with him.

Seven smiled and skirted the pair, going into the ensuite where she shed her outfit and recycled it prior to hanging it in the closet. Both women had showered before leaving the holodeck ... indeed, playing in the shower had caused them to overshoot their allotted time ... and Seven felt weariness seep through her as she went back out into the bedroom. Janeway joined her a short time later on what now seemed like a very tiny mattress, her nude form warm and pleasant as the two women spooned together in the center of the bed, Seven tucked up neatly behind her spouse. The captain's body was a constant source of heat, and after a recent away mission where the pair had been stranded on an ice planet, it was something for which the Borg had acquired a new appreciation. She wrapped herself completely around the other woman, trying to place as much of her flesh against Janeway as she could.

Janeway snuggled back against her happily and entwined her fingers in Seven's, holding their hands close to her heart.

"It's too bad we don't have room for a larger bed," Janeway muttered sleepily. "I liked rolling around with you."

"Agreed," Seven responded quietly as she hugged Janeway closer. "Perhaps when we return to Earth, we can make sure our bedroom is of the dimension to allow for such a big bed."

"Mmm, that would be lovely," the captain muttered. She made a soft sound of contentment in her throat. "I enjoyed myself tonight, love."

Seven smiled. "I did as well, Kathryn," she said. "It is good for us to be by ourselves where no one can bother us." She hesitated. "I know that this evening was designed by you to try to provide us with that time. Thank you."

"You're welcome, love," Janeway responded, reaching back to pat the Borg's hip lightly. "It might not be the type of vacation you want, but maybe it'll hold us until we have the opportunity for a real one."

Seven kissed her ear sweetly. "It was still wonderful," she assured her.

Janeway smiled, then yawned, her drowsiness getting the better of her. "The only hard part is having to get dressed and come home," she said. "Next time, let's get wicked here, all right? That way we can just fall asleep afterward."

"Very well," Seven agreed. There was a pause as the Borg listened to her partner breathe, hearing it slow and become more regular. "Kathryn?"

"Umph," Janeway said, jerking awake. "What?"

"Do you think we should replicate a Mini Marvel 450™?"

Janeway hesitated. "Do you?" she responded finally, her tone edged with surprise.

Seven considered it. "If we used it sparingly," she said, "I would find it a ... most acceptable addition to the variety of ways we have to make love."

She had seen how much her partner had enjoyed being inside her, and since it had turned out to be something that she could also derive a certain amount of pleasure from, perhaps they could somehow spare the rations. Janeway's pleasure was something that greatly enhanced her own, so obviously they would both benefit from acquiring the additional device.

"Good heavens, darling," Janeway said drowsily. "How could we justify using 185 replicator slips for something like that? It's so ... well, tiny."

"I'm sure we could acquire extra rations slips by trading our hours of holodeck time to other members of the crew," Seven pointed out. "After all, we rarely utilize that recreational allotment as anything more than an opportunity to adhere to our cardiovascular requirements."

Another sound in Janeway's throat, one of amusement this time as she translated that. "We certainly got a workout tonight," the captain pointed out.

"Rather than replicating a pool or the beach, we could simply exercise in the gym," the Borg persisted, ignoring the digression.

Janeway raised her head, looking over her shoulder. "Do you really want the accessory, darling?" she asked curiously, sobering a little. "I have no interest in replicating this thing if it will only be for my benefit."

Seven peered into her eyes. "It would not just be for your benefit," she said. "I believe that I would also find it enjoyable, depending on how it is utilized." She paused. "Kathryn, if we do have the slips to spare, and nothing else to spend them on, this seems like a viable item to add to our collection."

Janeway let out a bark of laughter. "God, we do have a collection, don't we?" she said ruefully. "Wands and balls and edible underwear ... if people only knew."

"Shall we aquire the Mini Marvel 450™?" Seven repeated patiently.

"Well, you should probably think about it a little more," Janeway mumbled as she settled back down on the bed. "But you know that whatever you want, I'm happy to do."

Seven did not point out that at one time she had very much wanted to keep a Borg baby ... which Janeway had not been happy to accommodate at all, and in fact, didn't. But Seven knew better than to bring that up. It was a topic that, after much mutual hurt and anger, they had finally agreed to disagree about, and leave it at that. It had not been an easy decision, but it had been a necessary one for them to find their way back to each other after all the misunderstandings and misassumptions that had precipitated it. Instead, she snuggled closer and buried her nose into the nap of Janeway's neck, inhaling the intoxicating scent of her partner.

"I shall start saving my rations," she muttered.

Janeway chuckled. "Okay, I'll try to set aside some of my own."

Seven squeezed her. "Do not lose any more pips," she demanded. "If you can manage that, it will not take long for us to save them."

"I promise," Janeway said, yawning widely again. "May I go to sleep now?"

"Was I stopping you?" Seven inquired blankly.

Janeway didn't respond to that beyond a nudge with her elbow, and the Borg realized that her partner must be tired to let her get away with that one. She smiled and cuddled closer, allowing her own weariness to overcome her as well.

Morning watch seemed to arrive far too quickly, and Seven literally had to force herself to roll away from the delightful sensation of her partner's body. Standing up next to the bed, she stretched languidly, reaching her arms high above her head, her lanky torso extended as far as she could manage it. She blinked and noted that her partner was awake as well, the captain watching her with eyes that burned blue fire.

"Do you know how much I enjoy watching you do that in the morning?" Janeway asked huskily.

Seven quirked an eyebrow. "I can speculate," she responded. "Particularly from your tone of voice. However, we do not have sufficient time."

Janeway smiled ruefully, stretching a bit herself, the blanket falling away to reveal her breasts. "I know," she muttered, peering at Seven invitingly from beneath lowered lashes. "But I don't have to like it."

"Sometime in the future," Seven said, eyeing the display warily, curbing the urge to pounce on those firm little swells, "You and I will take several days for ourselves in a place where no one can reach us."

Janeway tilted her head. "You're still not counting our little 'vacation' on the Icinus?" she asked teasingly.

"I did not consider it a vacation when we crash-land, sustain serious injuries and are constantly forced to battle harsh conditions in order to survive," Seven noted. "Most importantly, we were only able to make love once." She turned and went into the ensuite, adding over her shoulder. "I wish a situation where the landing is gentle, our health is excellent, the climactic conditions moderate and our lovemaking is the rule, rather than the exception."

She heard Janeway laugh and she smiled herself as she started the shower, water gushing from three nozzles, making sure the temperature was at the proper setting: a little cooler than she normally preferred, a little warmer than Janeway normally preferred, but absolutely perfect when they showered together. Janeway patted the young woman's back approvingly as she passed by on her way to retrieve the towels which she hung over the bar on the wall. The pair moved together under the water, both uttering sounds of pleasure as they did so. Their recent period of deprivation was still fresh enough in their minds that they luxuriated under the spray, appreciating an experience which had garnered a whole new appeal since their crash.

Seven used a cloth to lather the captain all over, delighting in how the suds slipped so slickly along the other woman's smooth skin. "Do you remember the sponge baths you gave me on the Delta Flyer?"

Janeway smiled, her eyes closed, content to relax as her partner lavished her with attention. "I do," she remarked in a deep voice. "Every night before you went to sleep, I would wash you all over. I enjoyed taking care of you." Her eyes opened. "I don't mean I enjoyed the fact you were hurt," she added hastily.

Seven brushed her lips over Janeway's. "I knew what you meant," she assured her with a faint smile. "I enjoyed receiving them. I only regret that I was too weak at the time to appreciate them fully."

"You mean, take advantage of where they could have led," the captain corrected.

"Yes," Seven agreed placidly. "That is what I meant."

They shared a conspiratorial grin, then Janeway took the sponge from her.

"Here," the smaller woman said. "I'll do you now."

Seven basked in the attention, but kept a strict rein on her desire, storing it away until after their shifts. Finally, after several additional indulgent minutes, they shut off the water and used large fluffy towels to dry each other off. It was sensual and very playful, but neither let it go too far, aware that both had pressing duties awaiting them. Before long, they were dressed and ready for breakfast.

"Waffles?" Janeway suggested as she went to the replicator, it being her turn to prepare their morning meal.

"Blueberry," Seven requested as she set the table, putting out the necessary plates, utensils, juice, butter and a small bottle of syrup. As Janeway brought over a large platter of waffles, the Borg filled a silver thermos from the coffee maker which had been set to brew automatically the night before, making sure she had enough left over for Kathryn's first cup with breakfast.

"Hmm, the astrophysics department reports that it detected a system in the upcoming sector that your projections hadn't listed during beta shift last night," Janeway noted absently, reading from a padd as she began her breakfast. "Looks like the Borg overlooked that one."

Seven, digging into her stack of waffles, raised her eyebrow. "I will place it on the priority list as soon as I arrive in astrometrics."

"Good idea," the captain replied, sipping her orange juice. "We might need to stop to replenish our supplies." She stopped abruptly and put her glass firmly on the table. Seven eyed her with curiosity.

"What is it, Kathryn?"

"I have a memo from Chakotay, requesting a leave of absence," Janeway said in an astonished tone.

Seven was equally surprised. "For what purpose?" she queried.

"It doesn't say," the captain remarked, her eyes lightening to a bluish-grey of dismay as she looked over at Seven. "Have you heard anything?"

The Borg considered all the recent rumors and stories making the rounds on the lower decks. "Nothing," she determined. She raised an eyebrow. "However, he has had a significant amount of extra duty in recent months. Perhaps he merely wishes a 'break'."

Janeway nodded ruefully. "That's true," she said. Her frown did not go away, however. "Still, it does seem odd. Especially after yesterday when I told him about the official pardon for all the Maquis that Starfleet is sending in the next communiqué. I thought he was thrilled."

"Does one emotion necessarily preclude the other?" Seven asked curiously. "Is it not possible that he is very happy, yet very tired at the same time?"

Janeway considered that as she got up with her mug, filling it from the coffee maker. Seven noticed that the captain grimaced slightly when she discovered that it was the last in the pot, and the Borg tried not to roll her eyes. The coffee's flavor was equal from beginning to end, yet the captain was convinced that the first cup from the pot was the best, and was always vastly disappointed when Seven filled the thermos before she had a chance to refill her mug. The Borg had come to the conclusion that Janeway's perception about it was a complete fallacy, yet her partner still persisted upon believing it.

"I'll admit," Janeway said thoughtfully, leaning against the counter as she sipped the dark liquid, "I have been delegating a great deal more responsibility to him as time has gone by. Maybe I overdid it a bit. Certainly, with the last few missions, he's had to hold down the fort while I go charging off to do whatever. He's also been teaching the Starfleet courses and providing extra attention to training Lt. Ro, not to mention all the personal time he's been spending with Icheb. Maybe he's met someone and wants to spend time with her."

"Or perhaps you could simply ask him why he requested the leave," Seven suggested.

Janeway shot her a brief smile over her mug. "What, and take away the fun of speculating wildly?" she asked. She took another sip of her coffee. "Maybe this system will have something in the way of shore leave and I'll be able to grant his request." She smiled faintly. "And possibly even yours."

Seven merely glanced at her indulgently and began to clear the table. A napkin dropped to the floor, and as she bent over to pick it up, she felt her partner place her hand familiarly on her buttock. She paused, smiling. "Did you require something, Kathryn?" she asked, not moving as the captain stroked the cheek through the Borg's biometric suit.

"Nothing in particular," Janeway muttered, giving the body part in question a final, gentle squeeze. "Just admiring the view."

Seven straightened and shot a glance at her smugly smiling wife before carrying the plates demurely over to the replicator. "It occurs to me that incidents of our lovemaking have increased significantly in the past week since my release from sickbay," she said, depositing the dirty dishes in the recycling unit.

"Are you complaining?" Janeway asked dryly.

"Not at all," Seven remarked, returning to the table where she finished cleaning it off. "I am merely intrigued by it. It seems to me that the last time we were this amorous on a steady basis, the ship increased its crew complement by nine."

Janeway laughed. "I don't think we have to worry about that," she said. "We only have the one B'Rethna left on board, and it's been neutered in any event." She tipped her cup, draining the last of her coffee. "Perhaps we're just catching up on all those nights we missed while you were ill. Or maybe it really is 'spring' this time ... after our 'winter'."

"Perhaps it is," Seven allowed. She turned swiftly and gathered her partner up in her arms, holding her tightly as she looked down into her amused features. "Or perhaps we are merely 'making up' after our conflict. B'Elanna says that 'make up' sex is the most intensive of all."

A brief shadow crossed Janeway's eyes. "Perhaps," she allowed.

Seven's face softened and she kissed her gently. "I did not mean to provoke bad memories of our disagreement, Kathryn," she muttered. "I merely wished to offer an alternative explanation for our amorousness of late."

Janeway relaxed slightly in her arms. "No, you're probably right, darling," she said apologetically. "Maybe a certain part of me is trying to 'make up' for the things I did and said over the weeks leading up to the crash, and certainly, lovemaking is part of the healing process." She paused, looking thoughtful. "But I want you to know, I make love with you because I enjoy it so much ... not because I feel obligated on some level to 'make things right' with you."

"Very well," Seven said quietly. She enjoyed the feeling of her partner in her arms for a few more minutes, then reluctantly let her go. "I love you, Kathryn," she said, looking down into the classic features.

Janeway's face went all soft and vulnerable. "I love you, too, Seven of Mine," she murmured.

They kissed again, and with that to get them through their shifts, they released the embrace in order to begin their day, aware that there were many responsibilities awaiting their attention ... responsibilities that simply could not be ignored as much as they might want to. On the bridge of the USS Voyager, the alpha shift quietly went about its business of maintaining a steady course back to the Alpha Quadrant. At the same time, they wanted to make as many scientific and explorative discoveries as they could on this journey which had already lasted six years and could possibly last another twenty.

At the helm, the sandy-haired Lt. Tom Paris made tiny course corrections, charting the smoothest path for the Intrepid-class vessel, his hands moving lightly over his board. Behind him, the first officer, Commander Chakotay, held the conn, working at something on the small console which sat between the captain's chair and his. To Chakotay's right, Lt. Commander Tuvok covered tactical, the dark-skinned Vulcan keeping a constant monitor on the internal security of the ship, while across the bridge, Lt. Harry Kim maintained his post at ops. To all intents and purposes, it was another peaceful day in the Delta Quadrant.

Which should have been their first clue, Tom Paris thought much, much later. After all, whenever things seemed the most peaceful, that's when the universe had a way of reaching up and biting a person on the ass.

Hard.

It started with an innocuous beep on Harry's board, a small light flashing to attract the young man's attention, and he immediately called up the data required.

"Commander," he said, raising his head to look down towards the command level. "Long range sensors are detecting a ship bearing two-two-mark-seven."

The tall, handsome Chakotay frowned briefly and glanced toward the fore viewscreen. "On screen," he commanded. "Magnify."

Tom looked up at the huge screen that dominated the front part of the bridge, watching as a small dot abruptly expanded. It was a small vessel with flowing lines and a shimmering hull.

The helmsman immediately fell in love.

"Report." Captain Kathryn Janeway came out of the turbolift, obviously alerted to the encounter by her first officer as she made her way to the bridge to start her shift. A compact woman with auburn hair and steady blue-grey eyes, she was a commanding presence, one that energized the bridge atmosphere simply by her entrance. It was an effect that never failed to impress and amaze the young helmsman.

"It is an unknown vessel," Tuvok noted. "Its signature does not conform with any established pattern in our databanks."

"It seems to be unmanned," Harry noted. "No lifesigns at all and no power signature." He raised his dark eyes. "It's a mystery."

Tom glanced back at the captain who had taken a seat. The woman was frowning faintly as she regarded the small ship on the screen, her chin resting lightly on her thumb and forefinger. "Uh, Captain," he offered. "Perhaps we could take a closer look?"

Those blue laser eyes fastened on his, and he thought they became mildly amused.

"You mean, bring it on board?" she asked silkily. "For what purpose?"

"Scientific discovery," he replied promptly. "A 'hands-on' inspection might give us better insight into who built it and why."

The captain exchanged a sardonic look with Chakotay, and the first officer looked away, clearly not wanting to roll his eyes. Obviously, Tom was not fooling either of his commanding officers.

"It seems to me," Janeway pointed out dryly, "that the last time we explored an unmanned alien space craft, it wasn't a very good idea ... specifically for you."

Tom was keenly aware of how the experience with the sentient ship he had christened "Alice" had ended up, but he didn't back down. After all, ships were a passion of his, and this one was a real beauty.

"What are the odds of that happening again?" he offered with a sly grin, knowing Janeway had a bit of a soft spot for him at times ... especially when he offered his most boyish, appealing expression.

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt to take a closer look," Chakotay offered to the captain. "We can put it in a secure section of the hangar deck and make sure force fields are put in place." He quirked a brow. "We are here to explore the unknown," he reminded mildly. "And to be honest, I'm a little curious about it myself."

Janeway shook her head, but she smiled. "Fine," she said. "Lock a tractor beam on it and bring it on board. However, Tuvok, I want you to carry out any security protocols you deem necessary before any crewmember goes on board."

"Yes, Captain," the Vulcan responded without enthusiasm. But since that was his normal mien, Tom did not take it to mean the security chief would be slow in accomplishing the task in any way.

Delighted, the helmsman turned back toward the front, gazing hungrily at the little ship as Voyager went about securing the vessel before finally bringing it on board. The helmsman requested ... and received from an amused captain ... permission to check it out himself as the ship's most skilled pilot. The turbolift couldn't move fast enough for him, and when he finally made it to the hangar deck, he was actually breathing hard from having sprinted the final distance along the corridor. He slowed to a walk, his eyes taking in every millimeter of the shimmering lines of the vessel which glowed golden in the muted lights of the hangar deck. Hesitantly, he reached out and drew his hand along a hull devoid of any scarring or pitting from dust or meteors. It was as if it had just come off the construction line, shined up and absolutely pristine, waiting for a pilot just like him.

"Wonderful," came a familiar voice behind him. "He's in love again."

Tom flushed, turning around to see B'Elanna Torres and Harry looking at him with no little amusement. The Klingon lifted her tool kit.

"The captain sent me down to take a look at this buggy," Voyager's chief engineer said. "You want to help or are you just goine to stare at it all day?"

"You have no appreciation for the finer things in life," he returned, patting the hull beside him. "This is beautiful."

"Oh, it's a beauty," B'Elanna agreed dryly as she began to circle it, obviously looking for a hatch. "But that's the difference between you and me, Tom. You prefer your passions to be inanimate, and I prefer mine to live and breathe." She shot him a grin to take the sting out of her words. "That's why we were doomed from the start."

"Probably," he agreed, trying not to wince. He and the Klingon had shared a tempestuous romantic relationship which had ended before he realized that B'Elanna was worth more than all the holoprograms and ships and other distractions he had indulged in while ignoring her. Now, she chose to go home to the tall, good-looking Lt. Ro Laren, who was also a helm officer when she wasn't performing other tasks in her role as the ship's 'rover'. The couple had just moved into double quarters on deck four this past week, two doors down the corridor from him, ironically enough. Tom, in the meantime, went home most nights to a very empty and lonely bed.

Despite the incredible appearance of his current obsession sitting here in the hangar, there was no question in his mind which helm officer had ended up with the better deal.

"There's the hatch," Harry pointed out. "I guess we ought to let him do the honors, B'Elanna." The young ops officer shot a look at Tom. "Just don't take too long. I have a wife and little boy who don't take it kindly when I'm late for dinner."

"Philistines," Tom grumbled but he quickly moved over to the hatch his friend had indicated. He accepted the device B'Elanna handed him, and placed it on the hull next to the thin outline which indicated the vessel's entry point. The device stuck there, lights flashing as it scanned the interior thoroughly, looking for anything that indicated a threat or something out of the ordinary.

As it did its job, Tom, B'Elanna and Harry hauled out their tricorders and ran their own scans, detecting nothing that implied any danger. The helmsman was quite impatient by the time the first device finished its scans, the lights switching to green, indicating a compatible atmosphere inside, devoid of any bacteriological or mechanical threat. B'Elanna and Harry stood back as Tom programmed the necessary commands into the device in order to activate the vessel's air lock.

There was a muffled thunk, then the hatch slid smoothly back, revealing a darkened interior. Tom almost tripped in his anxiousness to get inside.

His anticipation was amply rewarded.

It even smells new, he thought as he made his way up the aisle to where a chair, perfectly designed for his specifications, sat at a shiny and unmarked helm. He sat down, feeling the leather cushions surround him with almost sinful comfort, and he couldn't resist a sigh, resting his hands on the helm as he leaned back into the soft luxury.

B'Elanna rolled her eyes. "C'mon," she said. "Let's see how the damned thing works."

It took several hours, but eventually the three came to the inescapable conclusion that the 'damned thing' didn't work at all. Harry laughed, looked vaguely disgusted at the waste of time, and headed home for dinner. B'Elanna waited a little longer, perhaps sensing that the helmsman was honestly upset and not wanting to leave him alone with the unfortunate reality.

"I don't understand," Tom said, feeling like he wanted to weep from the sheer frustration, thumping the helm controls and only succeeding in hurting his hand. "What was it even doing out here?"

"Maybe it was a dummy model," B'Elanna suggested. "Fell out of a transport freighter or something." She tossed the last of her tools back into her kit and peered out through the viewport. "I know one thing; it sure as hell didn't get out here on its own."

"But why would anyone build a ship like this ... for show?" Tom asked, bewildered.

"Don't know," B'Elanna said. She stared at him, and her face softened as she patted his shoulder gently. "Don't feel bad, Tom. It still looks pretty ... even if it doesn't do a damned thing."

That didn't make the helmsman feel the slightest bit better. He had been envisioning himself soaring through the heavens in this lovely vessel, and to know it couldn't even move an inch from the deck plates was doing bad things to his psyche. Especially since his beloved Delta Flyer was currently in pieces in another part of the hangar.

"Lieutenants?"

Both officers looked back to see the captain poke her head through the hatch, and they straightened respectfully as she entered, looking around with curious eyes.

"Well," Janeway said dryly, "Harry was correct, it certainly is pretty. Was he equally accurate in assessing its purpose?"

"What purpose?" B'Elanna said, amusement lighting her eyes. "It doesn't have any ... except maybe to look good."

"Captain," Tom said, turning the chair around. It was hard to let go of a dream, particularly one so attractive. "Maybe we're missing something here."

"You're apparently missing everything," Janeway pointed out gently, though her eyes were twinkling. "There's no propulsion system, no form of navigational system nor any kind of ship's computer ... not to mention no indication of why it was built or by whom."

"But maybe its propulsion system is so sophisticated that we can't even recognize it when we see it," Tom argued. "Maybe it uses some form of ... of ... of telepathic energy to power it."

B'Elanna rolled her eyes. "Even if that were the case, it would still need something to move it," she said. "This doesn't." She looked at the captain. "Even assuming that Tom's theory was remotely possible, then why create a helm? Why create control pads that aren't connected to anything? Why not just propel the whole thing with one's mind and put a couch in here to lie on while you do it?" She shook her head. "I'm sorry, captain, there's nothing on this vessel, but stations without any interior fittings. It's as if all this has been put together to provide an illusion, like a prop in a holoprogram or something. The vessel does have a low level dilithium generator that powers a life support system, providing an atmosphere and some interior and exterior lighting, but nothing else." She waved around. "It's possible that it's a vessel in the process of being built and whoever was responsible never finished it ... but I don't know what kind of species would build what we consider the finishing touches first, and then do all the engineering and actual ship construction last."

"It's basically just a shell, then," Janeway said, looking around with a vaguely puzzled expression on her face. "You're right, Lieutenant, I have no idea why anyone would build such a vessel."

Tom exhaled slowly, feeling the last of his dream crumble entirely. "It just doesn't make sense," he said, depressed.

"What about these panels?" Janeway asked, pointing at two squares which were situated high on the bulkhead on either side of the vessel. She was standing close to one which had an unusual design on it, a squiggle that glowed from some interior lighting system.

B'Elanna grinned. "Those actually had us excited for a while," she admitted. "They're drawing power from the generator, but they aren't connected to anything else. They depress, but when we pushed them in, absolutely nothing happened. Frankly, when I traced the circuitry, it just went back and forth between them. I think it's just more decoration."

"Nothing happened when you pressed them?" Janeway asked curiously, pushing the panel which was slightly larger than her hand. There was a muffled click, but that was all, and she looked at the engineer who shrugged. "You're right. Nothing."

"No purpose," B'Elanna said, holding out her hands.

Janeway looked closely at the panels, and Tom wondered what she was trying to see. He was intrigued when Janeway moved over to the other one, almost as if she had discovered something the others hadn't.

"The pattern on that panel is a mirror of the other," Janeway noted. She looked back at her junior officers. "Did you try pressing them at the same time?"

B'Elanna looked vaguely embarrassed. "Actually, I don't think we got to that," she said. "I used the tricorder to run a trace of any energy output while Harry pushed them, but since nothing happened, I guess that didn't occur to me." She shook her head. "Still, captain, my tricorder didn't pick up any indication of a linked activation circuit."

Janeway smiled faintly. "Never hurts to try anyway," she invited and pushed in the panel on her side.

B'Elanna sighed and reached up, pressing on the panel above her head.

Tom wasn't sure what happened next or why, but there was a bright flash of light that temporarily blinded him, and he yelped, covering his eyes with his arm. When he finished blinking, and looked at where the panels had been, there were only blackened squares that still smoked slightly. Horrified, he looked down to see B'Elanna and the captain collapsed on the deck, and he scrambled to the engineer's side, feeling for a pulse. It was there, strong and steady, as was the captain's, but his hand still shook a little as he hit his comm badge.

"Paris to sickbay," he said. "The captain and B'Elanna have been injured. Doctor, I need you in the hangar deck immediately." Seven of Nine rushed into sickbay with Lt. Ro Laren at her heels. Both women had been contacted about the accident in the hangar deck and Seven had beat the Bajoran to the medical center only because astrometrics was a bit closer to deck five than deck ten where Ro had been working with Security's elite beta squad. The Doctor and Sek looked up from the still bodies lying on the biobeds, while Chakotay and Tom Paris hovered nearby, matching expressions of dismay on their faces.

"Explain," Seven snapped harshly, not allowing for any formalities.

"They're both fine physically," the Doctor said, speaking quickly as he moved to intercept the women. Seven realized that spoke volumes in itself and she glared into his concerned features.

"Mentally?" she insisted, picking up on the omission immediately.

"This isn't going to be easy to explain," he said and Seven felt her heart sink.

"Then you'd better get started," Ro Laren said, her tone one of absolute ice.

Seven was vaguely impressed and spared a quick glance over at the tall, willowy woman. Ro's face was set like stone, her dark eyes obsidian jewels of determination and outrage.

"Look at this," Sek said, her calm, rational tones cutting through the rising tension. Almost involuntarily, Seven and Ro moved over to the console where the holographic counselor was standing.

On the viewscreen, there were two sections, the top one designated for Janeway, the lower one designated for B'Elanna. There was a pattern running to the right of the patient's images, the top one in red, the bottom one in yellow. Sek gestured at the top one, Janeway's pattern.

"This is a neurological scan conducted during the captain's last physical," Sek explained evenly. "The lower one is B'Elanna's scan from her last visit to sickbay. These are the normal brainwave patterns of both patients." Sek touched the screen and the readouts altered to allow a second pattern to appear beneath each band of color. "These are the patterns that we are currently reading for each patient."

"They are distorted," Seven said with horror, staring at the distinctly different pattern shown beneath Janeway's normal readings.

"No," Ro said, pointing at the screen. "You've made a mistake. They're reversed here. The captain's pattern has been placed beneath B'Elanna's."

"It's not the computer that has them reversed," the Doctor said quietly.

Shocked, both Seven and Ro stared at him, not comprehending what he was saying at first. Then it sank in and Seven felt herself sway, her nanoprobes stepping up control of her respiration and heart-rate, bringing them back to an even level.

"That's not possible," Ro said flatly.

"Apparently, it is," Commander Chakotay said gravely. "The Doctor has run several scans and they remain the same. Janeway is now exhibiting the brain waves of B'Elanna Torres while Lt. Torres is displaying the neural output of the captain."

Seven forced herself to accept it. After all, obviously everyone in the room believed it and arguing about it would waste time.

"How did this happen?" she demanded.

"There was some kind of device in the ship we brought on board," Tom Paris explained, for some reason unable to meet Seven's eyes. "We were going over it and the captain came by. She and B'Elanna pressed two panels at the same time, there was a flash of light, and they were knocked unconscious."

"It looks like it did more than merely knock them unconscious," Ro snapped. "It looks like it switched their minds."

"That's what we believe happened," the Doctor agreed.

"How do we repair this?" Seven remarked. "Utilize the device again?"

"The device was destroyed in the exchange," Chakotay said. "Leaving only charred circuitry and no clue as to how it did this."

That piece of information was so horrific that Seven and Ro just stared at him in dismayed astonishment.

"In the meantime," Sek broke the stunned silence. "We have them both sedated, but we can't keep them like that. We need to wake them, let them ... adjust to their new reality."

"New reality?" Ro sputtered. "You're telling me that the captain is now in B'Elanna's body and B'Elanna is in the captain's. Furthermore, you're saying there's no way to switch them back?"

"We have our best people on it, Lieutenant," Chakotay said firmly. "But I would point out, our best engineer is lying on the biobed." His voice gentled. "Don't you think both the captain and B'Elanna would want to help find a way to help themselves?"

Seven did not need to consider that concept for long. Of course Janeway would want to be awake and actively participating in trying to solve the problem. "What can we do?" she said somberly.

"We thought that it would be easier if their loved ones were present when they woke," Sek said. "To ease the shock somewhat."

"Of course," Ro said and together, she and the Borg moved to the biobeds.

There was a vaguely embarrassed pause, and Chakotay cleared his throat. That was when Seven realized that she had automatically moved to the side of the woman in the black and red uniform, the four pips at her collar, just as Ro had moved to the side of the stocky, brunette Klingon. The two women exchanged looks, their eyes haunted, and perhaps they were the only ones who truly knew what the other was going through. Silently, they changed places.

Seven swallowed hard and looked down at the proud Klingon forehead ridges, at the face of her friend who, according to the readings and the sensors, was actually her spouse. Despite what the Doctor and the rest had told her, she did not really believe it. She was sure that when the Doctor had finished pressing the hypospray to the woman's neck, B'Elanna would wake up and ask her what she thought she was doing by hovering over her as if she were ill.

The eyelids fluttered and then, slowly opened. The dark brown eyes appeared muddled at first, but finally cleared as they focused on Seven. There was a warmness in them, a sort of possessiveness that only one person should have, and the Borg swallowed hard as she recognized it.

"God, what hit me," Janeway said, and her eyes widened as the unfamiliar voice sounded in her inner ear, suddenly acknowledging the different signals that her body ... the body she was now in ... was sending her. Seven looked into that face a second time, studying it intently, and knew without a doubt that this woman was her spouse, the realization filling her with a unique sort of despair. She had wanted this to be nothing more than a mistake on the Doctor's part, an error by their sensors or the computer ... but the truth was right there where she could see it.

"What's going on here?" The voice was firm, commanding, not at all like the intonation normally used by the engineer. Cautiously, Captain Janeway sat up and Seven reached out to help support her, feeling slightly sick as she watched the woman look uncomprehendingly at her hands, and then down at the gold and black uniform she was wearing. She reached up, touching the flat, provisional officer insignia at her collar before raising her hands to her face, rubbing her fingertips over it, particularly the ridges on the brow.

From the corner of her eye, Seven saw a familiar body with unfamiliar movements do the same in the other biobed.

"There was an incident," Seven explained. "The device in the unknown vessel apparently triggered some kind of mental exchange." She swallowed hard. "It switched your mind into B'Elanna's body and put her into your body."

"God," Janeway said again. She shifted her shoulders, almost as if seeing how everything fit, and then swung her legs over the edge of the bed in preparation of standing. Instinctively, Seven reached out and put her hand on her shoulder.

"Slowly," she instructed firmly.

Janeway shot her a look with those dark eyes, and an eerily familiar crooked grin curved up one corner of her mouth. "I feel ... healthy," she said. "Just different."

"I am sure," Seven said. "However, you will require time to adjust."

Janeway frowned slightly, raising a shaggy brow. "Why didn't you just use the device to switch us back?"

"Apparently, it was destroyed in the exchange."

"Wonderful," Janeway growled, and then looked startled, as did Seven. It had actually been a growl, reverberating from her upper chest and rumbling up from her throat.

"Captain," the auburn haired woman interjected from a few feet away, sitting up on her own biobed, "the next time you want to try something out, choose someone else to assist you."

"It could be worse, Lieutenant," Janeway pointed out dryly. "You and Harry might have pressed them at the same time."

"Kahless," B'Elanna uttered, the oath sounding very odd in that elegant, husky tone. "Megan would have loved that."

"The hell with Megan, what about me?" Ro muttered softly, but not quietly enough. Seven and Janeway looked at her sharply, and then all four women stared at each other, slowly coming to a realization of what this really might mean in the immediate future.

"Chakotay," Janeway said, the imperious tone unmistakable as she leaped off the biobed, moving briskly as if to escape the thoughts this had inspired, taking refuge in her command. Without hesitation, the first officer moved over to her side. "I'm not sure how long this will last, and I'm certain that the crew will be ... unnerved, but if we act as normally as possible, it may calm people down."

"Are you going to remain on duty, Captain?" Tom asked curiously.

Seven shot a glance at him, noting that the question was vaguely impertinent, but recognizing that it was actually quite a pressing problem. Was her spouse going to continue in her role of captain? Or assume the role of the chief engineer, instead? The Borg knew Janeway could do both, but it was unlikely that B'Elanna could perform the role of captain.

Janeway exhaled audibly. "Good point, Lieutenant," she said, her dark eyes appraising him. "However, I'm still captain, and unless my senior officers have a problem following my orders, regardless of what body I happen to be in at the moment, then I think a uniform change is all we need to maintain order."

"Of course, Captain," Chakotay said loyally, but Seven noted that he had a hard time looking at Janeway directly. He kept shifting his attention uneasily back and forth between her and B'Elanna. Seven knew exactly how he felt.

"B'Elanna?" Janeway asked, focusing on her chief of engineering. If she was disturbed at looking into what was essentially her own face, it wasn't apparent to the Borg. Perhaps having encountered other versions of herself on various occasions had made the captain immune, Seven decided.

"Hey," the engineer said, spreading out her hands as she slid off her own examining table. "I want to have another crack at that ship. I don't like being made a fool of, and obviously, we missed something big in the first examination."

"An understatement," Seven said pointedly.

Janeway shot her a look of amusement from the corner of her eye, just as she often did when Seven was being particularly sarcastic, but it only served to make the Borg feel more uncomfortable. Her mind knew that it was actually her spouse regarding her with such familiarity, but Seven's body kept angling toward the engineer, wanting to reach out and touch the compact woman in this time of uncertainty. She had to force herself to think about everything she was doing, making her feel slow and clumsy.

It was not pleasant at all.

"Chakotay, I want you and Tom to return to the bridge. Begin plotting a course to the nearest inhabited, warp-capable planet," Janeway said, straightening her shoulders beneath the band of gold as she snapped her orders. "Surely, someone in this region of space should have a clue as to what or who might have put a ship out here and why. B'Elanna, as soon as we get changed, you and Seven will join Harry Kim on the hangar deck where, hopefully, a closer look at that ship might give us some answers."

"Captain." Chakotay interrupted her spat of orders, sounding vaguely apologetic. Janeway glanced at him, and he raised his eyebrow, his tattoo crinkling. "You've been on duty since 0700," he pointed out. "It's now 2300. Maybe we should all get some dinner and some rest before tackling this tomorrow morning. I don't think the device which caused this is going anywhere, and it will take us a few days to find anyone in this area who might know something. In the meantime, I'll come up with a general memo to send out to the rest of the ship to let everyone know what's going on ... and who's still in command regardless of what she now looks like."

"I concur," the Doctor said firmly. "You've all had a massive shock, and some time to adapt would be useful for everyone."

"That does make sense, Captain," Sek said, adding her view to the argument, her mild tone somehow carrying even more weight than the two men. "It would be best if you and B'Elanna took the time to get used to your new bodies before throwing yourself back into duty. Not just for your sake, but for the sake of the entire crew."

Janeway blinked, obviously startled by this combined opposition to her charge, and Seven felt somewhat disconcerted as well. It was unusual to see Janeway 'being managed' when it was usually the captain managing the situation.

"You're probably correct in saying that we would all benefit from some rest this evening," Janeway admitted grudgingly, after considering it briefly. "However, Chakotay, I do want a combined science and engineering team put on the ship right away to find out what they can." She glanced at the engineer. "In the meantime, we'll need to carry on as we always would. We'll just have to do it in these bodies."

B'Elanna looked vaguely confused before nodding. "Right," she said gamely, her shoulders firming beneath the band of red. She glanced at Ro Laren, a frown furrowing her brow, and then shook her head as if not wanting to think too hard about what was going on. "I guess our bodies will just have to get used to living in new quarters with other people."

Suddenly, she shot a look at Seven, and for some unfathomable reason, blushed so profusely that the fair skin almost seemed to glow. Seven was sure she did not want to know what her friend was thinking at that moment. It would only add to the awkwardness of the moment, and indeed, even unspoken, the atmosphere grew decidedly more terse as they stood there.

Chakotay cleared his throat and gestured with his hand. "Ladies," he said, "Please try to get some rest." He dipped his head as a farewell and headed for the exit, Tom Paris tight on his heels. "We'll see you tomorrow."

Seven was silent as she and her spouse finally left sickbay and headed for their quarters. She found it difficult to look at the other woman for any length of time and kept her eyes resolutely on where she was going, striding purposely for the turbolift.

Jake leapt off the couch as soon as he saw them enter, coming over to greet Seven immediately. However, when it came to the other woman, the pet seemed very confused. He certainly did not act as he normally did with Janeway, but neither did he greet the woman as if she were B'Elanna, whom he knew fairly well. Suspiciously, he sniffed at the hands Janeway held out, every hair on his body stiff, his tail tucked between his hind legs and tight against his stomach, his ears flattened against his head. The captain moved very slowly around him, not wanting to startle him into an unfortunate reaction as he whined uncertainly. Seven had the amazed impression that in some strange way, he recognized his mistress within the body, despite what the scent and his eyes were telling him. Janeway finally knelt beside him, stroking his head gently, and he seemed to relax slightly.

"Hey, boy," she said quietly, in B'Elanna's voice but with Kathryn's inflections. "It's me. You sense that somehow, don't you, even though everything looks and smells wrong. You know it's not B'Elanna in here. You're such a smart pup, aren't you, boy?" Gradually Jake's tail lowered from his belly, then began to wag back and forth, almost as if he could understand what had happened, finally nosing the captain's chest just as he always did with his mistress.

Seven was very impressed with the animal's acceptance ... particularly since she knew it would be far more difficult for her to adjust to this new reality.  In fact, a significant part of her wondered if she would be able to adapt, at all. Janeway glanced up at her partner, hating how disconcerted Seven looked, but realizing there was little she could do about it at the moment. Indeed, it was taking all the internal fortitude she had not to run away screaming in a futile attempt to escape this body that felt so wrong. She supposed it could be worse, however. It could have been Tom Paris with whom she had been switched in the alien spaceship. She closed her eyes briefly as she scratched Jake behind his ears, not even wanting to think about that scenario.

Seven cleared her throat. "Would you like me to prepare something for you to consume?" she asked politely, almost as if to a stranger.

Janeway shook her head. "I'm not that hungry," she said. At that point, she expected Seven to insist, but instead, the Borg simply nodded and moved away from her, over to her workstation where she activated the console and began to input data. Feeling oddly alone, the captain patted Jake a final time and moved over to the replicator. She wanted coffee but knew it would be hard enough to get any sleep this evening without it. Putting any caffeine in her system would make it simply impossible.

However, the herbal tea she selected didn't taste as it should, and she wrinkled her nose after sipping it. She moved over to Seven, peering over her shoulder as she often did, and deliberately tried not to notice when the Borg subconsciously leaned away from her.

"Is there something wrong with this?" she asked, putting the mug down on the desk near Seven's hand. "It tastes awful."

Seven obligingly picked up the mug and sipped the tea, raising an eyebrow. "It tastes as it always has," she reported.

"Must be me, then," Janeway mumbled before realizing that was exactly the case. Her taste buds were no longer those of a Human female but of a Klingon/Human hybrid with their own unique likes and dislikes. She took a breath and carefully moved away from Seven as she realized how uncomfortable her immediate presence was making the Borg. She took a seat at her own workstation, across from the young woman, regarding her keenly.

Seven finally became aware of the scrutiny and lifted her eyes, meeting those of her spouse squarely.

"Are you all right?" Janeway asked gently.

"No," Seven responded honestly. "I am not."

Janeway nodded her head. "I understand, Annika," she said slowly, feeling helpless. "But darling, I can't help you right now. It's taking everything I have to hang on to my own sense of self. If I let myself think about this ... really think about it ... I suspect that I'll probably lose it entirely."

Seven thought about this, then nodded. "I am sorry, Kathryn," she said regretfully. "It is just such a ... difficult adjustment. In contrast to what you are going through, I am required to think about it constantly. Otherwise, I forget and I react to you as I would B'Elanna." She paused and added honestly. "I do not love B'Elanna ... not as I love you ... and it makes me uncomfortable when that body reacts to me as if I should."

"I know," Janeway said. She dropped her eyes. "But I still really need you to hold me right now," she added in a small voice, hating how pitiful she sounded.

Seven's face immediately softened, and she stood up, moving around the workstation where Janeway rose to meet her. The captain felt herself enfolded into those strong arms, the safety and comfort of them surrounding her like a warm summer breeze, lightening her heart and mind. It didn't matter that the limbs weren't quite wrapped around her body in the same fashion, that they were higher around her ribs than they would be if this body were as tall as she normally was, or that Seven remained a little hesitant about her embrace ... it just felt so good to be held. How large a piece of her soul would have been shredded for her to maintain her command ability if Seven had not been here? In these arms, she could release some of the fear, doubt and tension, and just lean on her partner for awhile, knowing without a doubt, that the young woman would hold her up for as long as it took for her to find her footing again.

Janeway finally took a deep, shuddering breath. "Oh, love," she whispered, her face pressed against the Borg's upper chest. "This is a tough one."

"I am right here, Kathryn," Seven murmured, tightening her embrace. The longer she held her, the more comfortable she seemed to be, her body relaxing against Janeway's form. Finally, Janeway felt as if Seven was no longer holding anything back. "I am sorry. I should have been doing this earlier."

"It's an adjustment for both of us, darling," Janeway whispered. She raised her face slightly, unconsciously brushing her nose along the line of Seven's neck as she inhaled.

Has Seven always smelled this good? she wondered idly, breathing deeply. She knew, of course, that her partner had always emanated a pleasant scent, but this was much different, far more intoxicating. She realized suddenly how much keener Klingon senses were compared to Human. Although she was not as close as would normally be required, she could smell the faint musk of the Borg's body from those most intimate of places, and was shocked at how strongly this body reacted to it, her blood singing through her veins with a powerful arousal.

"Kathryn?" Seven's voice was uncertain and Janeway growled, surprising them both.

Seven immediately released the embrace and stepped back a few paces. "Are you all right, Captain?"

Janeway forced herself to breathe slowly, her fists clenched. "Sorry, darling," she managed. "Some of my body's reactions are somewhat more undisciplined than I'm used to."

Seven tilted her head, studying her closely. "Indeed?" She paused. "What were you experiencing?"

"I think it's just my normal attraction to you," Janeway said slowly, as she worked it out for herself. "However, this body is far more aggressive in its appetites. There's hardly any control at all." She carefully released her hands. "Or rather, I'm not used to controlling such powerful and immediate desires."

Seven hesitated. "Perhaps I should not touch you anymore."

Janeway felt her heart sink at that proposal. "For how long?"

"Kathryn?"

Janeway sought after her composure, attempting to recover it. She didn't want to have to say it, but maybe it was better that they talk about it now, rather than later. "What if ... what if B'Elanna and I are never able to switch back?" she asked. "What if this is the body that I'll have for the rest of my life?"

Seven raised her chin, her eyes sparking almost angrily. "I do not believe that," she said sternly. "There is a device that caused this, constructed upon scientific principles. If there are scientific means to switch you, there will be scientific means to restore you." Her pale blue eyes narrowed. "I will find those means."

Janeway was taken aback by the depth of her partner's determination. "Am I so repulsive to you as a Klingon?" she asked lightly.

But Seven did not take it lightly at all. Her face changed in a way that Janeway did not understand, looking away from the captain. "I believe we should regenerate," the Borg said flatly.

Startled, Janeway watched as the young woman turned and disappeared into the bedroom, actually shutting the door behind her. Frowning, she glanced over at Jake who was regarding her with soft brown eyes from his perch on the couch.

"What was that about?" she muttered.

But her pet could not offer her an answer, and she shook her head, suspecting that this was going to be a great deal harder than she had initially anticipated. She gave her partner a few moments of privacy, and then entered the bedroom, noticing that Seven was already in the bed, dressed in a pair of silk pyjamas as she curled up under the covers, pretending to be asleep.

The captain stifled a sigh, then went into the ensuite. There, she stripped down and took a long, appraising look in the mirror at this new form she was wearing. For the first time, she allowed herself to really feel what it was like to be in this body, abruptly mindful of being in her mid-twenties again, of the youth and exceptional strength of this physique. The olive skin seemed to glow with health and vitality, while the slender, yet powerful, muscles rippled lithely as she turned and twisted, looking herself over. The curves were generous, as were the firm breasts which sported fat, brown nipples that stood out proudly. She ran a hand measuringly along her flat, hard stomach and over the lean flank of her hip.

All in all, Janeway thought with dark humor, it was entirely possible that she had ended up with the better half of the exchange.

She was about to go back into the bedroom as she was, but realized that Seven was having a hard enough time with her while in uniform. It wasn't necessary that she make it more difficult by showing up nude. She went into the recently constructed walk-in closet and took a look at what was available for sleep-wear, hoping to find something which could possibly fit this different body. As she studied the clothes hanging from the rack, she noted that although the couple had actually annexed the bedroom of the guest suite next door, it hadn't taken long to fill it up. It finally sank in that she and Seven were not just using this for clothes, but also for the storage of items that they had been accumulating in the time since their marriage; knickknacks and souvenirs from the various places in their travels yet did not, for whatever reason, have room to display them out in their living quarters.

My god, she thought in astonishment, how domesticated is this?

She knew she had always spoken as if this were their home since Seven and she had been married, but now, seeing the various containers of items that the couple couldn't bear to throw out ... even though most would be far more useful as energy in the replicators rather than taking up space here ... really brought to light the fact that she had settled down.

Was it actually to the point where they needed to do some spring cleaning?

She shook her head ruefully and dug out a t-shirt from Seven's side of the closet. It was still too large on this body, but it would be suitable for bed. She took a moment to shower and clean her teeth before pulling on the shirt. She inhaled deeply, noting that somehow, even with replication, Seven's scent lingered on it. The fragrance made Janeway feel warm inside, and she smiled faintly as she recycled her uniform, switching the band of color on the shoulders to red, and requesting four pips be accorded to the collar. Fortunately, as this was an emergency of sorts, she had the discretion of doing this without needing to dip into her personal ration supply. A final word to the computer brought the illumination down to night standard, and she returned to the bedroom.

She crawled onto the mattress next to her partner, knowing from Seven's respiration and the stiffness in her form that she was not yet asleep, yet the Borg did not move. Sadly, the captain settled on her back on the mattress, not attempting to touch the young woman. That would be intrusive, somehow, and she didn't want to compound her partner's uncertainty any more than she had to. She was gratified, however, when eventually Seven rolled over so that she was facing toward the captain. The Borg didn't wrap Janeway up in her arms as she normally did, but she did reach over and entwine her fingers in the captain's, holding her hand tightly beneath the covers.

"I wish I knew what to do," she whispered helplessly.

Janeway swallowed and squeezed the fingers gently. "I know," she said huskily. "It's not easy for any of us." She paused, the darkness settling around them like a shroud. "I love you, Seven of Mine."

Seven tightened her grip. "I love you, Kathryn," she whispered. "No matter what body you inhabit."

Janeway smiled bittersweet into the night, but did not challenge it. Right now, things were too fresh and raw, and trying to pursue the conversation could only lead to places better left untrodden for the moment.

Despite all the events of the day ... or perhaps, because of them ... Janeway actually managed to fall asleep, not waking again until the early hours preceding morning watch. There was a void in the space beside her, and she reached out, running her hands over the sheets which were cool to the touch.

She rolled out of bed quietly and went to the doorway, looking out into the living area. Seven was curled up on the couch, much as she had on many nights during a recent conflict she and her wife had experienced regarding the final fate of a Borg infant. At that time, Seven had been furious with Janeway, and pointedly showed her displeasure by removing herself from the couple's bed, refusing to speak with her as she stayed out on the sofa during the few nights that they had actually found themselves off duty at the same time. Janeway knew that Seven wasn't angry with her now; merely uncomfortable with the situation they were in and attempting not to disturb her with her restlessness, but the captain still felt the distance between them keenly, having to swallow hard against the lump in her throat.

Moving silently, Janeway went into the ensuite and prepared for her duty shift, before she tiptoed out into the living area with a spare blanket that she draped over the slumbering Borg. At the bottom of the couch, curled up around Seven's feet, Jake raised his head curiously, ears perked, and Janeway put her finger to her lips. Somehow, he seemed to understand that meant he was to remain still and did so obediently as she carefully deposited a kiss on the young woman's temple.

She left her quarters and headed for the bridge, determined to get an early start on the day. The bridge crew all did brief double takes when she stepped off the turbolift, and Janeway realized in a concrete way this was not just an adjustment for her and her spouse, but for the entire crew. She nodded briefly at the conn officer supervising the gamma shift.

"I'm just in early to catch up on some reports," she lied. "I'll be in my ready room."

"Aye, Captain," the young ensign said, uncertainty in his tone.

Janeway resisted the urge to sigh and went into the sanctuary of her office. Sitting down at her desk, she logged onto her console, pulling up the departmental reports. As she did, she was aware of the clumsiness of her hands. As long as she didn't think about it, they did what she wanted, but when she concentrated on how different this form was, she crossed herself up, frequently hitting the wrong commands. Fortunately, as she and Seven had discussed earlier, it was easier to ignore something than keep it constantly on one's mind.

She tried to concentrate on the data streaming across her screen and not in the situation she found herself. A check with the historical data banks came up with several instances in the Alpha Quadrant where beings had swapped minds. One of particular note to Janeway, was an incident involving Captain James T. Kirk and a woman known as Janice Lester. Apparently, a device was used in that instance as well, maliciously wielded by Dr. Lester in an attempt to achieve command of the starship. However, the intended purpose of the ancient device, according to popular archaeological opinion at that time, was to provide young, strong, healthy bodies to intellectually superior beings who were dying ... though the speculation did not mention if the possessor of the youthful form was a volunteer or not. Somehow, Janeway suspected not, and she realized that it was this particular civilization's way of achieving immortality. Janeway decided that this determined attempt to cheat death was part of the reason the culture had eventually fallen to decay and ruin, the young sacrificed on the altar of old, worn out beliefs. Of greater interest, according to the log, was that the switch was not permanent unless one of the participants was dead. Otherwise, within days, the transference would reverse itself naturally. The rest of the logs pertaining to that time were rather sketchy, and worst of all, there wasn't much information about the actual device itself. Janeway decided that she would just have to dig a little deeper, and began to cross reference with the scientific and archaeological databases.

Right now, it was the only lead she felt they had. B'Elanna Torres sat in the cockpit of the alien ship and dug her microfilament capacitator deeply into the mock circuitry of the helm. Around her, the rest of the scientific and engineering team worked doggedly, trying to uncover the secrets of this vessel, particularly the hows and whys of its effect on their captain and chief engineer in such a profound ... and inconvenient way. The chief engineer was keenly aware of how hard it was for them to be in her presence, the frequent glances coming her way like acid on her skin as the crewmembers had to forcibly remind themselves over and over that it was their departmental chief working there and not their captain.

B'Elanna knew it was particularly difficult for Seven of Nine, whose body language and senses kept reacting to the engineer as they would Janeway. In fact, a little earlier in the morning when they had been working together within the close quarters of the ship's fore cockpit, the Borg had reached out and stroked the back of B'Elanna's neck lightly with her fingertips as she moved behind her. It was a casual caress, the kind that Seven often provided the captain when the couple worked together outside of the bridge, done so unselfconsciously that the rare crewmember who happened to see it never attached much importance to it because ... well, because the two were married and that's what married people did. B'Elanna suspected that even the couple didn't really consciously acknowledge it themselves; the touch simply being a caress that one gave and the other received as part of being in close proximity to each other while pursuing a shared love of scientific discovery. B'Elanna, however, had no choice but to notice it on this occasion, the sensation both thrilling and shocking her, particularly by the way her new body reacted. She made an involuntary noise and turned her head sharply to look over her shoulder at Seven.

That was when Seven realized what she had done and before B'Elanna could say anything, the Borg stammered a brief apology, retreating quickly to the aft part of the ship which placed a deliberate distance between her and the engineer. B'Elanna would have pursued it, wanting to make it easier for her friend, but she hadn't a clue as to what she should say, so she went back to her work and tried to ignore the whole thing.

However, the engineer wished someone would remember that this wasn't easy for her either. The engineer was constantly aware of being off center, her balance disturbed. This form felt much lighter than her own, almost insubstantial, and it certainly did not have the strength and flexibility that she was used to wielding. Janeway was quite athletic of course, and in fairly good shape, but she still massed less than the Klingon and had a physique which was more wiry than solid. She was also twenty years the engineer's senior, and furthermore, fully Human in her senses and reactions. B'Elanna found that she missed the sheer physical power she had possessed, and it felt as if she had a permanent head cold, unable to smell and taste the air as she normally did. The eyesight was not nearly as keen either, and she discovered she was squinting as she peered into the dark depths of the open console.

The only advantage the young woman could find in adjusting to the whole situation, was the fact that this wasn't the first time she had experienced a similar transference. In Voyager's second year in the Delta Quadrant, she had been captured by Vidiians and 'split' into two halves, one fully Human, the other, a full Klingon. She had considered her other half to be the more primitive, aggressive aspect of herself, and believed that she wouldn't miss it if it were gone. She discovered how wrong that assumption had been, finally able to acknowledge how much she needed her Klingon aspects in order to be a whole being. When the Klingon being had died, B'Elanna had been fortunate that the Doctor was able to reincorporate the DNA bequeathed to her by her mother back into her body, returning her to the hybrid she truly was. But she still remembered how weak she had felt as a Human, how very vulnerable she had been, and even wearing the captain's face and the perception of Janeway's authority, that feeling was very much present now.

She sent another probe deep into the depths of the false helm, the Starfleet devices programmed so that they were scanning at the most minute subatomic level. Nothing else had uncovered any clue as to what was going on with this ship, and scanning every millimeter of the ship seemed their last, best hope. The destroyed circuits in the vessel's ceiling gave no indication as to how the device had managed to switch the minds of the two women, or why anyone would build such a thing. If it was some form of defense, of some kind of security system, it performed in a way that no one had ever heard of ... or would have even imagined.

It literally made no sense, and B'Elanna hated it when things didn't make sense.

"Hey, how are we doing?" Harry asked, sticking his head in the door.

"No luck, dammit," B'Elanna responded, and saw him flinch briefly when he heard the words spoken so casually in the captain's tones as she turned to look at him. Grinning faintly, she reached over and punched him in the arm. "Problems, Harry?"

"Cute, B'Elanna," he said, but she noticed that he moved away from her, as well, going back to join Seven in her scans of the aft compartment.

She stifled her sigh. All she wanted to do was somehow get through this day.

Through the fore viewports, she could see others on the team going over the outer hull with meticulous attention, using every form of scanner and probe Voyager had on board. She could tell by their faces that they weren't having any luck. Then, her eye was caught by a red and black clad form standing near the hangar bay doors, the dark hair and eyes eminently familiar. Lt. Ro was staring at the alien vessel, though B'Elanna wasn't sure if the Bajoran could see her through the reflection of the hangar lights off the polished transparencies of the viewports.

Quickly, B'Elanna slipped out of the vessel and strode briskly toward the woman. She noticed that Ro jerked, almost as if about to leave, and then seemed to pause, a somewhat resigned expression on her face. The engineer remembered how Ro had escorted her to their quarters the night before before hastily making an exit for her second duty shift on the bridge, suggesting that B'Elanna should try to get some rest. The engineer hadn't laid eyes on the officer since, and was not particularly pleased by that, but she supposed that she could understand it to a certain extent.

"Hey," B'Elanna greeted, aware of the way Ro flinched as she heard the husky voice. Unfortunately, there were some things the engineer simply couldn't help at the moment.

"Hi," Ro said. "I ... came down to see how you're doing."

Obviously, though she was having a lot of trouble with this, she was still trying and B'Elanna was warmed by that. After all, while she couldn't forget she had been switched, neither could Ro, who had it literally staring her in the face every moment she was with her live-in lover. It was certainly not the way the two women should be starting off their lives as a bonded couple.

B'Elanna glanced around the hangar, and then drifted over to the relative concealment of the nearby Delta Flyer which was still undergoing extensive reconstruction after a recent crash on an ice planet. Ro obligingly moved with her until they were both shadowed by the damaged vessel, the taller Bajoran looking down into B'Elanna's face. The engineer reached out and touched the woman, wrapping her fingers around her forearm. Ro didn't flinch this time, but she didn't exactly move closer to her either. B'Elanna tried not to be hurt by that.

"I'm sorry," Ro said, almost as if she was reading her lover's mind. Or perhaps she was just able to recognize the various emotions crossing the classic features. "I don't mean to make this harder for you."

B'Elanna sighed. "It's not easy for any of us," she admitted. She moved closer, invading the Bajoran's personal space. To her credit, Ro didn't move away, though the engineer sensed that she really wanted to. B'Elanna smiled somewhat bitterly. "Obviously, you're not attracted to the captain at all."

Ro inhaled slowly. "It's hard to adjust," she admitted. "I know it's you in there, but all my senses are telling me it's the captain I'm standing here with." She paused, then attempted a bit of dry humor. "Having the captain approach me as a lover tends to make me very nervous."

B'Elanna responded with a small smile.

"I guess I can understand that," she said softly, but she looked away from those dark eyes, not wanting to reveal her uncertainty, almost as if it was some form of cowardice on her part. "But it is me in here ... and right now, I'm feeling pretty alone."

Ro hesitated only briefly before slipping her strong, yet lean arms around the smaller body, pulling her close.

"You're not alone," she promised, pressing her face into the auburn hair.

B'Elanna resisted for a brief instant, and then surrendered gladly to the embrace, bringing her own arms up to return it. "Thank you," she whispered, somewhat shakily.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" Ro asked quietly. "I really want to help, Lanna."

"You're doing fine already," B'Elanna assured her in a muffled tone, her face buried in the Bajoran's front. "I really needed this."

Ro went so far as to brush her lips over the top of B'Elanna's head. "I admit, I'm not really used to providing this sort of ... support," the Bajoran told her softly. "Not the emotional kind. I'd feel more comfortable ... I don't know, doing something active, I guess."

"I think we'd all feel better doing something more active," B'Elanna acknowledged. "The trouble is, there's nothing more we can do beyond what we're already doing."

"Have you found anything?"

"Not a damned thing," B'Elanna said wearily.

Ro was silent for a moment, her long fingers gently stroking the back of the engineer's neck. That put B'Elanna in mind of Seven, and it occurred to her that perhaps Seven and Ro had an even harder adjustment to make than she and the captain.

B'Elanna tightened her embrace. "I'm know you're trying really hard here," she added sincerely. "I appreciate it."

"Any time," Ro said, managing a faint chuckle. "Not that I would like to see this happen too often, of course."

B'Elanna managed a laugh, as well, though it was an effort. "The captain was right, you know," she added. "This would have been much worse if it had been Harry and I who had switched while we were fooling around with those controls. And let's not forget, Tom was also there."

"Prophets," Ro muttered. "I don't even want to think about that. I'm sorry, Lanna, but in that case, I couldn't hold you like this, no matter how much I loved you. Not in Tom Paris's body."

"I don't blame you," B'Elanna said, but she wondered. After all, it would still be her, regardless of the body, wouldn't it? Was their attraction to each other so tied up in the physical form?

She drew back, looking up at her lover, searching her face. Would she still love Ro if she looked like ... say, Neelix?

"What?" the Bajoran asked, aware of the scrutiny.

B'Elanna shook her head. "Just being philosophical," she said lightly. She tilted her head. "Tell me, am I so repulsive to you in this form?"

Ro started to answer, stopped as if reconsidering her first hasty response, and finally shook her head. "You're not repulsive at all," she said soberly. "Don't get me wrong, it's not that your current form isn't attractive. It is ... but it's the captain I see when I look at it, not just a beautiful woman." She paused. "I'm not finding it easy to set that aside, especially after what we went through with ... Tuvok."

B'Elanna swallowed hard. "I hadn't thought of that," B'Elanna noted. "But this is not the captain in here, Laren, it's me."

"But the body's bearing and demeanor ... it's still Janeway's," Ro pointed out. "Not right now, not when you're conscious of being with me, of being physical, but when you're walking or standing without thinking about it, it's the captain's body language all the way." She looked a bit frustrated, as if lacking the words to explain properly. "It's the same when Janeway's on the bridge and isn't paying attention. Her body language is yours, uniquely Klingon as she sits in the command chair. It's confusing as hell for the rest of us. If these had been completely unfamiliar bodies you had been placed in, I suspect it would be a lot easier for everyone."

B'Elanna inhaled slowly. "Would you like me to order you around?" she asked sharply. This was just a matter of perception, wasn't it? Why couldn't Ro get past this? She released her embrace and moved away from the other woman, putting some space between them, forgetting that this was how Seven had reacted to her. "It's still me," she insisted with a bit of irritation, turning away from her as she stared at the blank expanse of hull before her.

"I know," Ro said. B'Elanna felt the Bajoran's hands settle on the engineer's shoulders from behind. "I'm sorry. I'll try to do better," the Starfleet officer added, her voice sounding a little helpless.

B'Elanna swallowed hard. "I know you will, Laren," she said apologetically, reaching up to put her hand on Ro's, entwining her fingers with the other woman's. "I'll try harder, too." She turned around, looking up at the brooding features. "Will you kiss me?"

Ro appeared reluctant and B'Elanna felt a touch of anger stir in her stomach, but when the other woman looked around, the engineer realized it had to do more with where they were rather than what body either of them happened to be in. Ro was never comfortable with showing affection in public and B'Elanna realized she had put her in a bit of a spot.

"Never mind," she said quickly. "I forgot we were both on duty."

"No, it's all right," Ro said, obviously determined to prove she could be supportive.

Gently, she leaned down and covered B'Elanna's lips with her own. The kiss was uncertain, tentative, and while B'Elanna found it wonderful in its familiarity, she had to remember that for the Bajoran, it was as if she were kissing someone else for the first time. Now she really regretted having put Ro in this position in such a public place.

"Thank you," she whispered when Ro had finally drawn back. The Bajoran's dark eyes were troubled, but she nodded. The engineer forced a smile and squeezed Ro's hand. "Will I see you at home?"

Ro looked honestly regretful, but B'Elanna wondered if there wasn't a bit of relief in there as well.

"I can't," she explained. "I'm pulling another double shift tonight to cover the helm. You'll probably be asleep when I get in."

"I'll wait up for you," B'Elanna said, carefully schooling her voice into one that was completely even.

"All right," Ro allowed. She squeezed the engineer's hand once more, then with a final dip of her head to indicate a farewell, she left the hangar.

B'Elanna looked after her, wondering how much of Ro's acceptance of her intention to wait for her to get off duty was based on the hope that this would all be over by the next day, and she wouldn't have to deal with her lover in an alternate form.

The chief of engineering guessed she'd find out later in the evening.
Janeway glanced up at the sound of the chime as it sounded tinily through her ready room. It had been four days since the incident which had swapped her and her chief engineer, and after several futile scans of the craft, they decided they would be better off trying to contact the inhabitants of this sector of space, hoping that one of them could provide information that might help them. Voyager was currently on course for a planet in a nearby system that had a reputation of being a central port of call for a great many of species living in the area. It would take the Federation vessel a few more days to get there, and in the meantime, the captain and her crew tried to do their jobs as best they could in what had become a very odd circumstance for everyone concerned.

"Come," she said, still unnerved by how her voice sounded to herself. It didn't sound like B'Elanna's voice, of course, because it was reverberating through her inner ear, but it was certainly different from her own.

She blinked as her former body came through the door, the jolt as strong now as it had been after waking up in sickbay. However, she managed to keep an impassive expression ... or at least, she hoped she did. She had no idea if the command mask worked on her current face as well as it did on her old one.

"B'Elanna," she said smoothly. "Have a seat."

B'Elanna flopped down in the chair, eyeing her cautiously. They had been so busy with their own tasks for the past few days that they had not needed to come in contact with each other. Janeway supposed the most disturbing thing about this was how easily they were starting to settle into their bodies as the days passed. Even the crew seemed to be adapting to the captain and the chief engineer in these new forms ... all except for their respective partners, of course. Seven of Nine did not seem to be adjusting at all, and Janeway had noticed from the crew manifest that Ro Laren had been working a lot of double shifts the past few days. She wondered if the Bajoran and B'Elanna had any chance to talk about the situation at all, or if they were avoiding the issue altogether ... nor was she certain she had any right to ask.

"What can I do for you, Lieutenant?"

"Doesn't this bother you at all?" B'Elanna stared at her with a touch of resentment.

Janeway offered a dry smile. "You wouldn't believe how much," she admitted. She inhaled deeply. "However, as Seven would say, it would do no good for me to indulge in an emotional display over this. My work still needs to be done. All our work does."

"Yeah," B'Elanna said, folding her arms over her chest. "Speaking of Seven, do you know that she's so skittish around me, we can barely work together? Not that I blame her much, but I was wondering if maybe you should reassign her to the bridge or even back to astrometrics. For her sake."

Janeway stifled a sigh. "I would, but to be honest, she's fairly skittish around me, as well, so the bridge isn't a comfortable place for her," she admitted. "Yet, if I were to suggest she move back to astrometrics, she would feel left out of this attempt to find a solution for the problem and possibly form a bit of resentment toward both of us. I'm afraid we'll just have to hope she adjusts. After all, her work isn't really being affected."

"I just don't like seeing her so uncomfortable," B'Elanna said. "It's like..." She paused. "It's like how it was between us when she first arrived on Voyager ... when we weren't friends at all."

Janeway fixed her with a compassionate look. "You're still her friend, B'Elanna," she assured her. "Don't ever doubt that." She picked up her lucky cup and sipped her coffee, grateful that this, at least, tasted pretty much the same. "Is that the reason you stopped by?"

"Well, that, and to see how you're treating my body," the engineer offered with a faint smile that faded after a few seconds, changing to a brooding look that was out of place on the fair features of her current face. "Or maybe I just needed to talk with the only person who understands what I'm going through. Sek keeps trying to pin me down for a session, but frankly, I don't want to talk to her about this. That doesn't leave me many options, however."

Janeway considered that and nodded. "I see what you mean," she admitted, keenly aware of how the ship's counselor had been pursuing her with more than just a little interest lately. She gestured to the replicator with her chin. "Can I offer you anything to drink?"

"Would I be out of line if I asked for an Solea Ale?" B'Elanna asked.

"Only if I'm not allowed to share one with you," the captain said, getting up to move around the desk. "Join me on the upper level."

She replicated two ales of the type they had discovered on a recent shore leave, and carried them over to the coffee table. B'Elanna had made herself at home in the chair, and Janeway wondered if she had ever made her body slouch in that particular fashion. It looked vaguely uncomfortable.

"Maybe I'm out of line, Captain..." B'Elanna began, after Janeway handed her the glass and settled on the couch. She stopped when the other woman held up a hand.

"Belay that," the captain said. "Believe me, this is a fairly unique situation. You were right when you said that each of us is the only one who truly knows what the other is going through. Please, speak freely."

B'Elanna seemed uncertain as to what to do with such a blanket invitation, and Janeway waited patiently.

"I guess I just wonder if you ever consider the possibility that this permanent?" B'Elanna asked. "That we're in these bodies to stay?"

Janeway hesitated, then dipped her head. "I have," she admitted. "Though I try not to. It doesn't seem to be the sort of concept we should entertain until all other options have been exhausted."

"It's getting close to being exhausted," B'Elanna said in frustration, raking her fingers through the auburn hair, making it stick out in all sorts of odd places. "We've been over that damned ship about a hundred times, and there's absolutely nothing to give us a clue about how it managed to do what it did. Trying to replicate the device from scratch is a study in futility, as well. No matter how much reverse engineering we do, the device seems so far ahead of us technically, that I'm not sure where to start."

Janeway leaned back against the couch, deliberately relaxing her body so that she could get rid of the ache across her shoulders. Though she didn't really get headaches anymore, she had noted a definite tension in her neck and back whenever she became anxious.

"And if we are in these bodies to stay?" she prodded softly.

B'Elanna shot a look at her from stormy grey eyes, then sighed. "Kahless, I don't know," she said. There was a silence, then she grinned crookedly. "My father would be proud. He'll have spawned a Starfleet officer who made captain by the age of twenty-seven."

Janeway returned the smile, but she was studying the other woman closely, looking for signals in those features that perhaps only she could see. "B'Elanna, I know that you have the lesser of this deal," she said carefully. "You've lost almost twenty years, if not more, considering that Klingons seem to live longer that Humans overall..."

"Not longer," B'Elanna corrected. "Klingons maintain the body's vigor longer, but when it goes, it goes all at once, unlike Humans who seem to gradually decline over a period of time." She quirked an eyebrow. "However, I should point out that there's no way of knowing how long that body's natural lifespan is. It might start to collapse in ten years, or it might live twice as long as either species. All mixed-species hybrids live with that uncertainty." She hesitated. "It's not the lifespan, captain. I mean, life is whatever the fates give you ... there's no way to know if I'm being cheated out of a few decades or if I'm actually gaining a few by being in this body. I will admit, however, that I miss the Klingon strength and reflexes."

Janeway nodded. "I can appreciate that," she allowed. "If there had been any opportunity at all in this past week, I would have dug my phaser out of retirement and challenged a few people to Velocity."

B'Elanna laughed. "I have problems with that game," she said. "I always overcompensated in my shots and ran out of fire power before the match was over. I don't know if you could overcome that." She took a long pull from her ale. "I guess what's really bothering me is Ro. She just can't get by the whole 'captain's body' thing. Last night at dinner, it was as if she couldn't wait to get away from me ... and honestly, I'm not sure if I would be doing any better in her place. I'd like to think I would, but if it had been her and say, Neelix, who got switched, I'm not sure how adaptable I'd be." She stared at the reddish tint to her ale. "I don't know how to make this right for her or for me ... for us. It's a real bad time for this to be happening."

Janeway nodded. "I know," she agreed compassionately. "She may not show it, but Seven is also having a lot of difficulty with this. She looks at me and sees you, and that makes it impossible for her to be comfortable."

"Then there's always the aspect that I feel like a squatter," B'Elanna added, glancing at the captain from beneath her lashes.

"'Squatter'?"

"As if I have no say over what I do now," B'Elanna said slowly. "After all, if we do switch back, I wouldn't want to have done anything that might..." She trailed off uncertainly.

Janeway frowned, attempting to figure out what the engineer meant, and then let her breath out audibly as she finally understood.

"B'Elanna," she said seriously, leaning forward. "I appreciate the sentiment, but please, if you're holding back from your personal relationship with Laren because you are worried about how I would feel about my body ... 'being with' ... the lieutenant, please, don't. As long as we're in this situation, consider that body your own."

"Thank you, Captain," B'Elanna said with more than a little relief. She paused, eyeing Janeway narrowly. "Of course, please feel free ... with Seven ... I mean..."

"I know what you mean, Lieutenant," Janeway said, smiling crookedly. "In fact, maybe it would be something you would enjoy knowing ... that your body got to be with Seven, even if you can't."

She was absolutely appalled at what had just come out of her mouth, but the words were said and she couldn't call them back no matter how much she might want to. B'Elanna looked dumbfounded, and Janeway raised her hand in apology.

"I'm sorry," she said with honest regret. "I shouldn't have said that." She wasn't quite sure why she had, and wondered if somehow the power of her impulses in this new form had overcome her natural diplomacy and poise. Certainly, it seemed that she had lost all sense of tact lately.

B'Elanna stared at her hands, swallowing convulsively. "Captain, I assure you..." she began.

"I know," Janeway interrupted. She reached out and put her hand on the other woman's forearm comfortingly. "Some things you just couldn't help, B'Elanna."

"How long have you known?" B'Elanna asked with difficulty.

Janeway exhaled audibly, smiling faintly. "Goodness, since you and Chakotay broke up," she admitted. "I've seen you look at Seven on many occasions with a certain expression in your eyes, and of course, I recognized it instantly. It's exactly how I look at her, after all. The only difference is, mine is ... somewhat possessive, I guess, while yours was always ... yearning."

B'Elanna shook her head, her expression stricken. "Ro told me that she thought you knew," she said in a low voice. "I thought ... I hoped ... you hadn't noticed. I'm sorry, Captain."

"For what? Being attracted to Seven?" Janeway laughed. "If that were a crime, half the crew complement would be in the brig." She patted B'Elanna on the hand one more time. "I know you're an honorable woman, B'Elanna. As is Seven. I was never concerned." She paused, before adding truthfully, "However, I was pleased when you discovered Lt. Ro. Because of your friendship, you're the one person Seven might ... return such interest if the circumstances were right."

B'Elanna flushed, looking extremely unhappy. "Does Seven know?"

Janeway shook her head. "I don't think so," she said. She paused. "In fact, I would have to say no. Otherwise, she would be sure to let one of us know in some way or another. She's not very reticent when it comes to things like that."

"Kahless, that's for sure," B'Elanna remarked, undoubtedly remembering all the times that even she had been embarrassed by the Borg's brutal honesty. She tipped up her glass, draining the last of her ale. Then she looked directly at Janeway. "I would rather she never knew," she added quietly, intently. "It might not make any difference, but it's equally possible that it might harm our friendship. I wouldn't want that to happen."

Janeway hesitated, and then nodded. "She'll never hear it from me," she promised sincerely.

B'Elanna looked relieved, then stood up in preparation of leaving, putting her empty glass down on the coffee table. She favored the captain with a final look.

"Uh, thank you for giving me the leeway to ... you know..." she trailed off lamely.

"I know," Janeway said smoothly. She raised a finger elegantly as the engineer turned to go, and puzzled, B'Elanna looked back. "You are aware, of course," Janeway said, dryly, "that I wouldn't authorize it at all if you were still with Lt. Paris. Ro's reputation for discretion is a definite asset in this situation."

The corner of B'Elanna's mouth curled up in an eerily familiar grin. "I can't say as I would blame you in that instance."

Janeway smiled as her engineer left the ready room, but her eyes were dark and brooding as she watched the door close behind her body. It was one thing to say they were going to progress with their respective partners as if the problem were irrelevant, but actually doing it was something else again.

How cooperative would Seven really be regarding such a decision?

Ro Laren entered the turbolift and gave the instructions for deck four where the couple's new quarters were, steeling herself to deal with the captain's body rather than that of her Klingon lover. She was trying very hard to approach this in a controlled and logical fashion, as she did most things, but the very situation was one that defied logic. The woman she loved was now in the body of her commanding officer. Worse, Janeway was someone who the Bajoran respected greatly, and every time she was with B'Elanna, she felt like she was betraying both of them in some odd way, something she had sworn she would never do. She knew it was simply a matter of her perception of the physical form, but it did not make it any easier for her.

"Lt. Ro."

Startled, Ro lifted her head, so lost in thought that she hadn't realized the turbolift had stopped and the doors had opened. She felt uneasy as the captain joined her.

"Deck six," Janeway instructed, then looked at the Bajoran. Her dark eyes studied the lieutenant, then she reached out, pausing the lift.

"Captain?" Ro asked.

"I think we should talk, Laren," Janeway said, the use of her given name letting Ro know that this was to be a personal discussion.

Could my day possible go any better? Ro thought sardonically. Now she would have to deal with this Klingon body which immediately triggered a physical response in her, forced to remind herself constantly that it was actually the captain in there.

"About?" she responded noncommittally.

"This situation," the captain said. She quirked an eyebrow and smiled faintly. It was unnerving because even though the body was B'Elanna's, the way the mouth moved was pure Janeway.

Ro stifled a sigh. "What exactly would you like to discuss?" she asked, wondering how long this was going to hold up the turbolift system.

Janeway seemed to realize that at the same time, and she activated the controls again. "Deck eight," she said, giving the lift new instructions. Of course, since the ship's computer now recognized the voice as belonging to its commander, it overrode all the previous instructions and began to descend. Janeway shot a glance at the Bajoran. "I think a walk in the park might be appropriate."

"Yes, Captain," Ro said without enthusiasm.

She followed Janeway out of the turbolift as it stopped on deck eight, and the pair strode briskly toward the large metal doors which opened at their approach. Inside, the previously stark surroundings of the ship's secondary cargo hold had been transformed into a small park, with slender trees, bushes, lawns and flower beds. The air was fresh, filled with the perfume of several blooms, while the buzz of insects underscored the chirps of birds. Confused, Ro looked around, surprised that the tiny, carefully balanced environment had been enhanced by the introduction of yet another lifeform, then realized the sounds were merely being piped in over hidden speakers. The bees were real however, and unconsciously, she leaned away as one swooped by, knowing that the stingers had been genetically removed from the insect, but unable to overcome her instincts.

In any other circumstances, such an expenditure of energy and resources, particularly those required for the bright lights overhead which approximated the Earth's sun, would be considered extremely wasteful. Ever since Voyager had become a generational ship, however, it was deemed necessary. Adults, it was discovered, could get by with a holodeck simulation of the outside, but growing, shipborn children required a daily slice of the real thing to keep them happy and healthy. Of course, a great many of the ship's crew preferred this very tiny area of real things as well, even though a holodeck could reproduce a much larger, more detailed scenario of any outside setting.

Ro suspected it was the quality of the air. No matter how good the programming, a holo-scenario just didn't smell the same as the real deal, even as limited as this was. Subliminal perception again, she decided, but some things were just more powerful than the intellect could fight.

Which brought her back to the situation at hand, as she and the captain took a seat on a wooden bench in the shade of some thin trees which stretched their foliage toward the ceiling two decks above. The Bajoran looked up, noting that someone had taken the time to paint it blue with fluffy clouds. The glare from the lights was enough that it seemed more real than a projection would have.

"I like this," Janeway said, looking over the small area and breathing deeply. "It probably would have benefited us a great deal had it been instituted years ago."

Ro shrugged. "Sometimes, we don't know what we need until we're forced into it," she allowed. "Then, we wonder why we hadn't thought of it before." She watched as a bee, heavy with pollen, dart from the pink blossom of a nearby rose. "Ensign Wildman really did a tremendous job on this."

"Her team worked very hard," Janeway agreed. "And continues to do so. They want to add real birds to the environment to aid in pollination. Hummingbirds, I think."

"Can the area tolerate that?" Ro asked, realizing she was pursuing this inconsequential discussion in order to avoid what had really brought them here. "It's so small."

"Seven believes so," the captain said. She prodded her toe into the grass beneath her. "They've added earthworms and certain bacteria to the soil in order to enhance its fertility. Making this as real as possible for the children has become my wife's biggest hobby at the moment."

"However, the tottlers won't know the difference," Ro pointed out. "This is the only 'nature' they've ever experienced."

"Agreed, but Naomi and the Borg adolescents do," Janeway said. She looked distant and sad for a moment. "Seven wants Icheb and the rest to feel at home here on Voyager for as long as they're with us."

Ro decided that she needed to change the subject, aware that topic was one which shouldn't be pursued with either the captain or her spouse ... all the crew knew that somehow, though how it had gotten around the ship so fast was a mystery to the former security officer. Of course, the Bajoran wasn't that anxious to get to the real reason they were here, either, but the sooner it was out of the way, the sooner she could get away from this body that continued to attract her. In fact, she had to twice draw back her arm as it unconsciously reached out to wrap around the Klingon's shoulders.

"Is there something in particular you wished to talk with me about, Captain," she prodded finally.

Janeway lifted her head, the proud ridges defined in the artificial sunlight.

"That's what I've always appreciated about you, Laren," Janeway said wryly. "You don't dissemble very often. You're not as straightforward as Seven of course, but you are far easier to converse with than many others in my crew. Perhaps because you're not as intimidated by my rank as you should."

Ro worked her way through that one, wondering if it were a compliment, or some subtle insult of some kind. "Thank you," she said finally, hoping that was the correct response.

Janeway chuckled, a deep, B'Elanna-type chuckle, and Ro knew she had guessed wrong. Despite that, however, she found she was smiling herself. The captain always managed to keep her off balance, the Bajoran never knowing what would happen next with her, and for some odd reason, Ro appreciated that immensely.

"B'Elanna tells me you're having trouble with this ... situation," Janeway said finally.

Ro hesitated, then sighed ruefully. "I try to get by it," she admitted. "But it's difficult not to see you when I look at her."

"You, of course, are not the slightest bit attracted to me," Janeway said blandly.

Ro grinned faintly. That one was too transparent to let pass.

"It's not that it isn't an attractive body," she said evenly. "Under other circumstances, perhaps I would even find that body worth ... pursuing avidly." She dared a peek out of the corner of her eye, pleased to see that she had thrown the captain a curve, Janeway actually blinking in surprise. "However, as it stands, it's the body of my commanding officer, and that's too much to overcome."

"What if this situation is permanent?" Janeway asked bluntly.

"I've thought about that," Ro replied honestly. "I guess in that event, I'll eventually adapt, but for the moment, I haven't given up. I believe this condition is reversible, and in the meantime, I have to honor the form."

"Rather than the substance?" Janeway queried. "There's no way of knowing how long it could be before we find a solution. It could take weeks, months, maybe even years. Can you really maintain that sort of distance from the woman you love?"

Ro didn't like the question, but acknowledged that it was probably a valid one.

"I don't know," she admitted honestly.

Janeway nodded. "I do," she said. "Sooner or later, the body one is in won't matter any more. It'll be back to who the person really is inside. In that event, I expect you not to hold back from B'Elanna, particularly on my account. That would be unacceptable."

Ro blinked, astounded. "Is that an order, Captain?" she managed.

Janeway turned to her, her dark eyes studying the Bajoran intently. "No," she said. "This is not the captain speaking at all. It is, however, your friend, Laren. B'Elanna loves you. You love her. Don't let superficial perceptions stand in the way of that."

"I wouldn't call this 'superficial'," Ro pointed out.

The captain waved her hand casually, another purely Janeway gesture. "Laren, it's only flesh and bone," she said. "It's what's inside that really matters."

"Suppose it had been you and Tom who had switched," Ro countered. "Would you expect Seven to make love with you in that body?"

Janeway was unable to hold the Bajoran's eyes. "I can't answer that," she admitted finally. "Gender adds yet another shade to it that fortunately, we don't have to deal with here."

"It shouldn't," Ro noted. "After all, it's still flesh and bone, still a matter of perception."

Janeway inhaled deeply. "Damn," she said. "You're not going to accept this easily, are you?"

Ro swallowed hard. "I can't afford to."

Surprised at the tone, Janeway glanced at her. "Why not?"

The Bajoran hesitated, and then dipped her head, studying the ground at her feet. "Captain, you may or may not know that B'Elanna and I experienced a period of ... difficulty a while back."

"I knew something was going on," Janeway offered gently. "I wasn't sure what, however, and I didn't feel it my place to ask."

"It had to do with 'Operation Tuvok'," Ro said. She blinked painfully in the sun. "I ended up sharing what happened with B'Elanna." She paused. "Her 'perception' of what I had to do was that I had cheated on her."

She heard an intake of breath from the other woman, a small sip of distress. Obviously, Janeway was keenly aware of the engineer's views on fidelity and honor.

"I'm sorry," she said after a moment. "I authorized that operation. If I had known..."

"What?" Ro injected sardonically. "You would have canceled it? Allowed Tuvok to die?"

Janeway obviously didn't have a response to that, and Ro shook her head.

"Captain, even if I had known B'Elanna's perception of it in advance, it wouldn't have stopped me," she said. "This was a matter of life and death, of preserving the existence of someone who was very dear to me. In the end, B'Elanna and I have been able to get by it, but the wound is still a bit raw. I am not going to risk complicating what is still a very fragile bond between us by essentially sleeping with someone else's body. Even if B'Elanna feels she wants to at the moment, it's because she keeps forgetting that she's in that form. Later on, she may question the situation, and I simply don't want to risk it. Not until all our options have been exhausted, and I know it's definitely a long term condition. "

Janeway folded her arms over her chest. "I have to respect your opinion," she said slowly. "However, I do want you to know that it would not be a complication for me in any way. As long as the situation continues, that body is completely B'Elanna's to do with as she chooses."

Ro nodded. "Very well, Captain," she said. "Certainly, you and B'Elanna have to work out your own understanding about the situation. I can only control and take responsibility for myself, and that's what I'm doing."

"It might help B'Elanna if you tell her what you've just told me," Janeway pointed out gently. "Believe me, sometimes we blithely assume certain things about our partners, take certain understandings for granted, only to find out after the fact that we're completely wrong. Recently, Seven and I made certain assumptions about each other as a couple, neither of us bothering to take the time to discuss it with the other, only to discover that we were approaching an issue from completely different viewpoints. By the time we finally did understand that we held such opposing opinions on the situation, it was too late to discuss it rationally, and in the resulting conflict, we hurt each other deeply. While I can't stop you from following the same blind path, I can, at least, warn you about it. Don't make the assumption that your partner is perfectly in tune with your motivations and intentions just because you love each other. That can be a profound error in judgment."

Ro inhaled deeply, understanding how much the intensely private captain was sharing with her. Most of the crew were simply not aware of all the factors that had contributed to the captain and Seven's recent crash landing on a planet. She only knew some of the details because of her relationship with B'Elanna and the engineer's close friendship with the Borg.

"I do ... appreciate what you're telling me, Captain," she said. "I will speak with B'Elanna about this. Obviously, we're not communicating as well as we should, especially if she felt she had to confide in you, rather than me."

"Well, I'm in the unique situation of being the only one that really understands what she is going through," Janeway pointed out. "Hopefully, this won't cause any long-term disruption to either of our respective relationships." She sighed. "Somehow, something like this always sounds far more amusing when you hear about it. Actually living with it is very trying."

"Indeed," Ro agreed quietly. She glanced over at the captain surreptitiously. "I really am ... grateful for your concern, Captain..."

"But I should mind my own business," Janeway finished dryly. "I've been told that often."

"I mean no disrespect," Ro said.

"None taken," the captain remarked. Her lips twitched. "However, you should be aware, it probably won't stop me in the future."

Ro sighed again. "Yes, ma'am," she said in such a resigned tone that the captain laughed out loud, a full-bodied Klingon laugh that made the few other crewmembers wandering the park look over at the women before hastily resuming their attention on their own pursuits.

"Very well, I deserved that one," Janeway said, slapping Ro stingingly on the leg, which surprised both of them considerably. The captain looked suitably chagrined. "Sorry, some of these reflexes definitely belong to the body and not to me."

Ro merely nodded, rather than pointing out that was exactly the reason she wasn't going to pursue any sort of an intimate encounter with B'Elanna at this time. Perception aside, what was really the body and what was really the mind? She didn't know the answer to that, and she wasn't prepared to make a mistake while finding out. Seven of Nine entered her quarters hesitantly, feeling a sickly tension constrict her neck and shoulders. At one time, coming home was like returning to a safe haven, to a place of comfort and security. Shutting the door behind her was actually shutting out the rest of the ship, and it made it easy for her to distance herself from her duties and responsibilities, giving her the necessary space to gain a proper perspective on them. That was not the case now, nor had it been for weeks, and she hadn't realized how much she needed it until it had been taken away from her. She swallowed hard as she saw her partner sitting on the sofa, several padds scattered over the coffee table in front of her.

Janeway glanced up from her work, the dark, brooding eyes observing her partner keenly.

"Hello, darling," she said.

"Kathryn," Seven responded politely.

The Klingon's face softened into a wistful smile. "It's still very hard for you, isn't it?"

"Shouldn't it be?" Seven noted. "In the event that I do get used to this, would it not mean that we have given up all hope of things ever returning to normal?"

"I guess so," Janeway said, her eyes turning downward, sadness etching her features.

Seven felt her heart twinge painfully, and she immediately moved over to where her partner was sitting, sinking down next to her as she slipped her arm around the captain's shoulders.

"I do not mean to make this more difficult for you, however," the Borg insisted softly. "I do love you, Kathryn."

"But you can't love me in this body," Janeway said unhappily. "You've made that rather clear."

The captain had not said anything about Seven finding reasons to sleep out on the couch for the past week, but obviously, it was bothering her. The Borg felt guilty and she wrapped her other arm around the Klingon, holding her tightly as she pressed her face into the dark wavy hair.

"It is possible," Seven admitted hesitantly, her voice low, "that I would find it too easy to love you in this body." She paused. "It frightens me."

Janeway opened her mouth to speak, stopped, and looked baffled as she considered Seven's words. Her face cleared as comprehension dawned.

"I see," she said finally, with great care. "I knew you were attracted to B'Elanna briefly." She turned her head, looking at Seven directly. "Are you afraid that if you stop fighting the situation, that it might not be me that you're letting yourself love but rather, B'Elanna Torres in some way?"

"Yes," Seven whispered. "It is her body, after all."

"Oh, darling," Janeway said, leaning into her. "I'm sorry. I didn't even think of that. I thought it was ... well, something else." She sighed. "Making assumptions again, I'm afraid."

Seven inhaled slowly. "I am sorry, Kathryn," she said, her voice hard as she felt self-disgust for her lack of control seep through her. "I should not be attracted to B'Elanna's body."

"You're married, Seven, you're not dead," Janeway said dryly. "Darling, there are some people we meet that we can't help but be attracted to. I know that you would never do anything to betray me or the vows that we shared." She tilted her head, studying her partner's face intently. "This has been tying you up in knots, hasn't it? Not much wonder you didn't feel comfortable in the bed with me."

"I am ashamed," Seven whispered, bending her head.

Janeway brushed her lips over the Borg's forehead. "For being Human?" she asked. "For having a purely physical response to a person you otherwise like, admire and care for? I think you're being far too hard on yourself ... certainly far harder than I would ever be on you. Or B'Elanna, if she knew about it."

"You must not tell her," Seven said, alarmed, opening her eyes wide as she lifted her face to look at her partner.

Janeway patted her back. "Darling, this isn't the black and white situation that you want to turn it into," she said comfortingly. "There are all kinds of grey shades here."

"Perhaps," Seven said uncertainly. "But I still do not wish B'Elanna to know of this. It would harm our friendship."

The captain stared at her, her face troubled, then nodded. "Very well, Annika," Janeway allowed evenly. "I promise, I won't tell her. It's completely your decision."

"Thank you," Seven said, and exhaled, resting her temple against her partner's, feeling very weary suddenly.

Janeway seemed to sense that. "You're exhausting yourself over this," she noted ruefully, reaching up to rub the back of Seven's neck. "I think we all are to a certain extent."

"I am tired," Seven admitted.

Tired of always being on edge around her partner, tired of being careful of how she acted around B'Elanna in the captain's body ... so tired of this whole situation. She felt like weeping even though she knew she had to be strong for Kathryn who was, after all, experiencing the most difficult aspect of the whole thing. She gulped, forcing back a sob, not quite managing it.

"Oh, darling," Janeway whispered, pulling Seven's head down onto her shoulder. "Don't hold it all in like this."

"You need me to be strong," the Borg insisted, finding it hard to breathe.

"Not at the moment," Janeway said, regret staining her voice. "I'm sorry, Annika. I certainly didn't mean for you to think that you needed to remain strong for the entire duration of this situation. I just needed you desperately that first night. Let it out, love. I'm right here, regardless of the body."

Seven buried her face in the crook of her spouse's shoulder, no longer noticing that it was more muscular than what she was normally used to. She merely cried until the tears simply wouldn't flow anymore. When she finished, she realized she had slid down until she was resting her head on Janeway's lap, the captain stroking her blonde hair with familiar gentleness, having freed it from its austere bun.

The Borg supposed that she should get up, but that would mean that she would have to face the situation again, so instead, she remained right where she was, her eyes closed, feeling the tender fingers run through her hair with soothing ... and very familiar ... regularity.

"I think that tonight, you should go to bed, and stay in it until morning," Janeway said finally. "Whatever you think might be behind you wanting to be with me, I don't believe for a moment that this body has anything to do with it. The very fact that you're worried about it means you care for me and honor our marriage far more than your own desires. You have not, nor will you ever betray me. Is that sufficient for you?"

Seven considered it. "Yes," she murmured. "It is."

"All right, love," Janeway said. She kissed her temple gently, leaning over her. "Tonight, it'll be just you and me ... and what body I'm in will be completely irrelevant." Seven breathed quietly, absorbed in the touch of the captain's lips on her cheek. Janeway seemed to sense that, and she made a soft sound of amusement, taking the opportunity to nuzzle her further. "In the meantime, however," she whispered in the young woman's ear, "how about some dinner? My treat."

Seven smiled. "Your cooking is not always a treat," she pointed out dryly.

"Ah, but I'm so good with finger foods," the captain returned, her voice a caress over her partner even in her current form. "Very well, what would you like?"

"I think I would like to remain in your arms a little longer," Seven whispered, relaxing as she accepted her partner's presence, finally able to get past the incongruity of the body to be with the woman she loved. She had allowed her fears to dictate her actions for too long. It was time to believe in her beloved spouse, to know appearance was irrelevant and it was the essence that mattered.

"Oh, I can arrange that as well," Janeway said, pulling Seven a little closer. The Borg noticed that she did so easily, lifting the young woman's torso where it lay across her and arranging them into a more comfortable position with barely an effort.

"I think you enjoy being stronger," the Borg noted idly. She was turned now, her back supported by the arm of the sofa, looking up at her partner as Janeway cradled her in her arms. Gently, she reached up and touched the captain's chin lightly, tracing the features with tender fingertips, seeing not her friend now, but her partner.

Janeway chuckled. "I'll admit, I sort of miss the physical advantage those nanoprobes gave me," she said, tilting her face slightly to offer more access to the Borg's explorative touch. "To be in this body is like having them again ... only more so."

"Is there anything else that has been of particular note to you?" Seven asked curiously, moving over the strong cheekbones, delighting in how smooth and warm Janeway's olive skin was.

"My temper is a little more ... on edge," Janeway admitted. "In fact, I almost took off Chakotay's head today over something that was really quite innocuous." She paused, her dark eyes thoughtful. "I've always believed that B'Elanna's bad temper sprang from lack of discipline, that it was a result of her youth and inexperience with Starfleet. Now I realize how wrong I was. There is a real physiological reaction inside this body that enhances anger and aggression, and it takes all my command training to curb it. In truth, I'm beginning to think that B'Elanna is far more restrained than I've ever given her credit for."

Seven considered it. "Engineering usually requires a disciplined and ordered mind," she pointed out. "Her skills are second to none."

"That's a good point," Janeway allowed. She looked down into Seven's face, studying it intently. "I should tell you that it's not just my temper that's edgy. Other impulses are equally strong, and I'm finding that I have to constantly keep a tight rein on them."

"Which impulses?"

"Desire, attraction..." Janeway inhaled slowly. "Even now, holding you like this, I have this incredible urge to take you and ravish you right here on the sofa."

Seven raised an eyebrow. "Indeed?" she said evenly, though a sharp chill of interest shivered through her.

Janeway swallowed, her throat moving visibly. "That should be the main reason that nothing should happen between us while I'm in this body," she told Seven firmly. "It's too powerful, and I'm not sure that I could control it if I indulged these passions." She paused. "I'm not going to risk the possibility that I might hurt you in some way. B'Elanna can probably control herself in an emotional situation like making love ... I don't have the necessary experience to do the same. I've heard horror stories about how Klingons mate, and I never want to put you through that."

"Regardless, Kathryn," Seven said seriously, tracing her fingertips tentatively over the brow ridges, "you are not Klingon, nor do I think you're taking into account that I am still more powerful than you physically, despite your new form." Yet, when she looked deep into the captain's dark eyes, there was still a shadow of fear marring them. Obviously, Janeway was deeply afraid of physically harming her spouse. For some reason, the Borg knew it was important to get past this, particularly if this switch turned out to be permanent.

"I do not believe you are capable of physically hurting me," she said firmly, cupping the captain's cheek in her palm. "But if you did so inadvertently, then know that I would always forgive you for it."

Janeway raised her head, inhaling again, and Seven realized the captain was actually smelling her as she sniffed the air. It intrigued her on some primitive level.

"Hurting you is unacceptable, darling," Janeway corrected. "Inadvertent or not."

"Your conclusion that you will definitely cause me harm is faulty," Seven insisted softly. "The mind is far more powerful than the body. You taught me that on Icinus, did you not?" She closed the distance between them, covering her partner's mouth with her own.

For an instant, Janeway did not respond, either surprised or reluctant, before what sounded like a growl rumbled up from her chest and her lips parted, taking command of the kiss. Seven felt the sharp points of Janeway's teeth rake lightly over her tongue, then her mouth was invaded by the captain's tongue, demanding, imperious, taking possession of her. It was different and unfamiliar, but it was also very erotic. Seven reacted to it with a soft moan in the back of her throat.

With an effort, Janeway wrenched her mouth away, turning her head.

"This is not a good idea, Annika," she said, exasperation and desire making her voice thick. "I don't know that I can restrain myself."

"You can and you will," Seven said with complete conviction, and kissed her spouse again, with no little demand of her own. "Have faith in yourself, Kathryn," she muttered against the full lips. "Have faith in us. We love each other, and that is stronger than any situation, no matter how odd or challenging. I did not understand that before, lost in my own uncertainties, but now I realize that we must face this situation together. We must make love. Otherwise, we are allowing our fears to compromise our relationship."

Perhaps it was the words that convinced her, or perhaps the captain simply could not resist her body's demands any longer. The growl was louder this time, more distinct, and before Seven knew it, she was being lifted up into the air and carried easily by the other woman as she strode briskly to the bedroom.

"Kathryn?" the Borg whispered, shocked and thrilled as she slid her arms around the captain's neck.

"I've always wanted to do that," Janeway muttered as she lowered Seven onto the bed.

"Now I understand why you enjoy it so much," the young woman responded quietly. "It is very stimulating."

"Just remember it," Janeway said dryly. "I doubt I'll ever have the opportunity to do it in my real form." She straightened, unfastening her uniform tunic. "Take off your clothes," she commanded as she shrugged out of the garment and tugged her sweater free of her waistband.

Seven raised an eyebrow and the captain paused.

"Please," Janeway added silkily, her head tilted slightly as she regarded her with burning eyes. "Darling."

Smiling faintly, Seven reached up to the back of her neck and released the seal on her biometric outfit, wiggling out of it quickly. By the time she was done, a nude Klingon had joined her on the sheets, reaching out for her and pulling her close.

"Tell me immediately if I cross the line," Janeway commanded huskily.

"I shall," Seven promised, then found her mouth covered passionately once more.

Janeway's body was literally hot, as if fevered, and Seven realized that the Klingon physiology boasted a temperature several degrees warmer than either of them. Perspiring freely, the captain's warm, brown skin glistened in the low illumination of the bedroom, contrasting sharply with Seven's fairer body. Janeway's hands were more demanding as well, stronger in their caress ... not unpleasant, but far more insistent than Janeway tended to be, even when fully aroused. Seven did not object, however, intrigued by this encounter, appreciating the diversity of it. Now that her doubts and fears had been assuaged by the understanding of her partner, she felt completely free to indulge in the experience.

Janeway also seemed to be discovering differences, and Seven was fascinated when the captain guided the Borg's fingers to the small of her back.

"Touch me there," she ordered.

"Why?" Seven asked.

"Just do it," Janeway said breathlessly. "Hard. Massage around the bone there."

Seven obeyed and was surprised at how loudly Janeway cried out in her pleasure.

"God, that's so good," the captain said, her head falling backward almost helplessly. "I've never felt anything like it."

Seven rolled them over so that Janeway was on her back and the Borg was on top of her. As she continued to knead her fingers into the muscles at the base of Janeway's spine, she took the opportunity to trail down the captain's chest and fall upon those plump little nipples that had so intrigued her in the past. Janeway yelped in pleasure and tangled her fingers in Seven's blonde hair, holding the Borg's head to her as Seven licked and sucked them.

"More," Janeway demanded. "Bite them."

Seven did so, tentatively at first, then a little harder as the captain encouraged her, her teeth closing on the nub firmly, gnawing it tenderly before moving over to do the same to the other, the oral caress making Janeway almost delirious with joy.

"God, I take it back," the captain husked. "There is something to be said for Klingon sex."

Seven suspected that the information that the captain had received pertaining to the subject had been flawed. Certainly, Ro did not sport the bruises and cuts that Tom Paris had boasted about, and the Borg's research into the sexual practices of the species did not indicate an abusive interaction ... merely a passionate one. This was certainly passionate, not to mention quite strenuous. Seven found that she was grateful that this was not Janeway's normal physiology ... if the captain was hard enough to keep up to in a Human form, it would be impossible to do so on a regular basis with a Klingon form.

She moved quickly over the muscular stomach which flexed powerfully under her lips, nuzzling the dark thatch of hair at the juncture. Janeway's legs parted immediately, welcoming her in, and Seven inhaled the unfamiliar, yet provocatively enticing scent. Peering at the vulnerable flesh, the Borg wondered what the extra little bump beneath the clitoris was. Nothing in her research of Klingon anatomy had indicated anything about it, and curiously, she opened her mouth and touched it with the tip of her tongue, generating a howl from Janeway that startled Seven and caused Jake to break into furious barking out in the living area.

Intrigued, she tasted the top one and caused an even louder outcry.

"Good god, Annika, what are you doing?" Janeway exclaimed.

"Cunnilingus," Seven replied, baffled at the question. She thought what she was doing was rather obvious.

"I know that," Janeway said, a touch of exasperation edging her tone. "Why does it feel like you're doing it twice?"

"There are two nerve bundles here."

"There are?"

"You did not examine your new body?" Seven remarked with surprise. "Either through tactile or visual means?" It would have been the first thing she'd have explored, she thought.

There was a pause, and Seven lifted her head to peer up the length of her partner into sheepish eyes. "I ... never really got around to it," Janeway admitted bashfully. "Not that intimately, anyway. It seemed ... presumptuous, somehow."

"I see," Seven muttered, though she did not at all, and returned her attention to the body parts in question. She carefully kissed each of the two ridges with her lips, dipping briefly in the opening to gather moisture with her tongue, tasting it and spreading it over the dual nubs.

Janeway was obviously having trouble breathing ... and keeping her eyes open, her body twitching abruptly at every touch. "Darling, if you only knew how good that feels," she panted.

"I believe the lower protrusion is a secondary clitoris," Seven determined with scientific dispassion, pulling back to look at them again. "It is slightly smaller, but seems just as sensitive. This physical attribute must be unique to Lt. Torres ... undoubtedly because she is a hybrid ... since Klingon anatomy texts do not indicate anything about dual clitori at all."

"Lucky, lucky B'Elanna," Janeway gasped. "Are you going to study them all night or are you going to do something with them?"

Seven shot a glance at her partner. "Such as?" she questioned innocently. She leaned down and flicked the top one again with the tip of her tongue. "This?"

"That's good," Janeway noted approvingly.

"This?" Seven muttered, swirling around the lower one.

"Better," Janeway said.

"This?" Seven insisted indistinctly as she covered them with her mouth and proceeded to lick them both lavishly.

Janeway's response was completely incoherent.

The taste of her partner was stronger than before, creamier, certainly saltier and sweeter at the same time. The consistency was also thicker, and Seven found herself swallowing far more than she normally did. It did not give her pause however, as she feasted joyously on the woman she loved without reserve. The muscular thighs closed about her head, locking her in place, and it occurred to her that she should finish this quickly before she ran out of air. Then suddenly, almost without warning, Janeway was shuddering beneath her, the opening fluttering around Seven's tongue, a rush of moisture flooding out to bath the Borg's face. She could hear another howl, muffled as it was by the strong legs pressed against her ears, and realized why the crewmembers on deck nine, section twelve were so adamant with their complaints about the noise. Even at her most vocal, Janeway simply could not reach that decible level in her own body.

Suitably impressed with herself, Seven released her partner and crawled up the stocky form, immediately captured in a powerful embrace, the kiss threatening to steal the very breath from her lungs. They rolled over, Janeway on top, pinning her down, and Seven fought the grasp on her wrists briefly, knowing she could break them, but only after a struggle which was not what she wanted. Instead, she submitted to the deep kisses of the captain, feeling completely overwhelmed by them.

"You're so beautiful," Janeway growled, pressing down on her, covering her with pleasure as she kissed along Seven's neck.

"Kathryn," Seven whispered. "Make love to me."

"Yes," Janeway said, biting her throat, but not breaking the skin.

Indeed, the captain seem to pause to gather herself at that instant, before continuing her kisses over the plane of Seven's chest, mouthing the full breasts aggressively, but gently, as if the control she had been so afraid of losing had turned out not to be a factor at all. Seven gasped as the captain pulled the Borg's left breast completely into her mouth, feeling the nipple impact on the back of Janeway's throat.

"Kathryn!" she exclaimed.

"Did you like that?" Janeway muttered after she released it.

"Yes," Seven hissed.

Janeway smiled briefly and did the same to the other, each swell left shiny from her saliva, cooling in the night air as the captain began to caress the pink nipples, swirling her thick tongue over each one, nipping at them lightly, making them ache. As she did, she slipped her hand between them, seeking out Seven, rubbing the intimate flesh, the sound sticky amid the gasps and moans of the two women. Janeway was about to enter her, but stopped before Seven could object to the fact that the captain's fingers were now thicker than before. Instead, the captain reached over to the night stand drawer, retrieving a jar of lubrication they kept there all the time. Seven was impressed by how easily Janeway stretched across the bed, how very lithe and flexible the younger body was, and she wondered if perhaps Janeway might not want to have her old form back.

She made a mental note to ask her spouse about that later.

Her fingers now covered with the silky lubrication, Janeway carefully penetrated the Borg with her middle finger while her thumb fondled the sensitive ridge and her mouth continued to lave her breasts hungrily. Seven spread her legs wide, pushing against the finger thrusting deep into her, feeling it move ever so close to that blockage inside that, she discovered with some surprise, had its own unique sensitivity, anticipating a touch that was not quite there. She had first noticed this new tenderness while Janeway had utilized the accessory in the holodeck, how there actually seemed to be new nerve endings of some kind in the scar tissue, but had dismissed it as having to do with the sensation of the probe's head pushing against it. Now, however, the fingertip that remained tantalizingly beyond its reach was enough to drive her crazy, and she realized something had changed physically within her.

"Deeper," she gasped, obviously startling the captain who shot her an odd look from beneath her lashes, but Janeway obeyed, worming her finger as deep as it would go, barely brushing over the internal tissue which sent chills of delight through the Borg. Seven did not know where this new sensitivity sprang from, suspecting it had to do with some form of adaptation of her nanoprobes, but she was certainly grateful for it.

"Oh ... Kathryn," she exclaimed happily as she felt Janeway push her ring finger in her lower entrance, the lubrication making it slip in with unusual ease.

The captain's hand was strong, making Seven feel even more taken by her partner than usual, flexing inside her with familiar, yet slightly different pleasure. Suddenly, the thumb pressed forcefully on her nub, the middle fingertip rasped over the new spot inside and the other finger reached further into her rear channel than Seven had ever been penetrated before. The resulting climax almost tossed Janeway from the bed, the captain yelping in surprise, and she inadvertently bit the nipple harder than she probably intended as Seven spasmed helplessly beneath her . The minor pain was lost in the pleasure that swept Seven up with its demand, leaving her shaken and completely sated when it finally abated.

"Kathryn," she mumbled, wrapping her arms tightly around her partner's neck. "You were wonderful."

"Apparently so," Janeway responded.

But her dark eyes were vaguely confused and a little troubled ... though Seven did not understand why. B'Elanna Torres cursed a bit under her breath as she skinned her knuckles on the console in front of her. She was a little cranky because of a conversation with Ro Laren who had made it quite clear that as long as the engineer was in this body, there would be no shared intimacy ... at least for the foreseeable future. They could kiss, they could cuddle, but when they went to bed, there was to be no hanky panky of any kind. She supposed she could understand the Bajoran's view to a certain extent, but it didn't mean she necessarily had to like it at all.

"Bridge to Lt. Torres."

She glanced up. "Torres here," she responded.

"You should come to the bridge," Chakotay told her in a low voice. "This includes you."

In the background, B'Elanna could vaguely hear other voices and realized that something was going on around the commander as he communicated with her.

"On my way," she said, her interest piqued.

When she stepped off the turbolift onto the bridge, she was struck by the captain's pose down on the lower level, her hands on her hips, her Klingon head held high. B'Elanna was impressed at how damned heroic her body appeared in that pose. She rather wished she had the Doctor's holo-imager so she could make a permanent record of it.

Then her attention was taken by the alien on the viewscreen dominating the fore part of the bridge. He was mostly nose, she thought, with a huge snout that dominated his face like an elephant's trunk, while his ears swept up the sides of his head like wings on one of Tom Paris's antique cars. His eyes were large and the most unique violet that B'Elanna had ever seen. The combination should have been repulsive but for some reason, she found it oddly attractive. She wondered if it was her mind thinking that or her body reacting in a way that she didn't care to examine too closely.

She drifted along the upper level until she was next to Harry.

"What's up?" she muttered out of the corner of her mouth.

He glanced at her, smiling faintly. "He's a trader," he explained in a low voice. "I think he knows what happened to you and the captain."

Definitely interested now, B'Elanna focused on the conversation going on between Janeway and the alien who was apparently named Trevis, though that was not immediately apparent to the engineer because he had an odd way of referring to himself in the third person.

"Trevis wonders, did you find this funny?" he asked.

"Not at all, Merchant," Janeway responded with an edge in her tone. "It has been very inconvenient."

"Agreed, the Borja are not funny," Trevis agreed. "But think they are, they do."

"Are you saying this was ... a joke?" The outrage was clear in the captain's voice.

"Yes, tricksters, they are," Trevis revealed. "Outsiders are fair game, and the more upset they are made, the funnier is the joke."

Janeway's voice dropped to a low register. "Can you tell me where to find these ... tricksters?" she asked silkily.

He eyed her for a moment. Though he had to be unfamiliar with that particular note in the captain's voice, no doubt he suspected it boded ill for someone. He grinned, showing big, flat teeth.

"Trevis will send planetary coordinates," the merchant said. "But be upset, and they will think that is funny indeed. Maybe decide you are perfect for future jokes and you will have no choice. Borja technology is very advanced, far more advanced than yours."

Janeway lifted her head. "I ... see," she said thoughtfully. "I'll keep that in mind, Merchant. We thank you."

"Do not thank Trevis," he reminded pointedly. "Pay Trevis instead."

She dipped her head in acknowledgment. "As soon as we receive the coordinates, we will transport over the agreed upon goods."

"Send Trevis goods first," he said suspiciously.

"We will send half now and the other half when we have the coordinates," Janeway countered.

He hesitated, then nodded. "Trevis agrees."

The screen went blank and Janeway glanced back at Chakotay. "Inform transporter room one to send half the containers," she said. "Then send the others when we have the location of the Borja."

He nodded and the captain's eyes intersected with B'Elanna's. The engineer wrinkled her nose.

"A joke?" she asked pointedly.

"Seems that way," the captain remarked.

"I'm not laughing," B'Elanna said acidly.

"None of us are," Janeway agreed. She frowned faintly. "However, if what Trevis says is true, then it would not be wise to let the Borja know we didn't find it humorous."

"Are you going to just ask them nicely if they'll switch you back?" Chakotay offered from his chair.

Janeway favored him with a speculative look.

"No," she said slowly, "I don't think that would work any more than presenting an outraged front would." She took a seat and, with a distant look in her dark eyes, regarded the fore viewscreen that was now displaying a starfield.

"In fact," she said. "I think we need to be a little tricky ourselves."

B'Elanna blinked and wondered what the captain had in mind. The tone of her voice was somewhat odd, and the engineer felt something unpleasant skitter down her back. Had Seven been present, she could have told the engineer that it was a perfectly natural reaction to the captain when she developed that mood. When Janeway was about to start scheming, no one was particularly safe.

But Seven was not present and B'Elanna decided that there was no point of her being on the bridge right now either. The real excitement wouldn't start until they reached the Borja home system. She flicked a glance at Harry in farewell, then vacated the bridge. Not really in the mood to return to the engine room, she made a detour to her quarters on deck four. As she walked into the spacious suite she had just moved into, she was struck by the fact that this was now her home ... hers and Ro's.

She sat down on the sofa, looking around the living area with a quiet pleasure, the decor one of cool blues and greens, with a distinctly subtle Bajoran flavor threading through it, contrasted nicely by the splashes of red and purple that were pure Klingon. Through a nearby door was a separate and fairly large bedroom, definitely something she was quickly adapting to. Of course, as chief engineer, she had always held the option of taking larger quarters because of her senior officer status, but she had never availed herself of the privilege, preferring to remain in a simple crew cabin on deck nine next to her beloved engines. For six years, she had lived in a single room with an attached ensuite that was only large enough to provide a sonic shower. This ensuite actually had a tub in addition to a hydro-sonic shower, though neither of the women had yet taken the opportunity to avail themselves of the former's whirlpool function.

B'Elanna decided that it felt good to see the dining area and contemplate the dinners she and Ro would share, or put her feet up on the coffee table, thinking about how the pair of them would snuggle up together on the couch. Of course, this was dependent on her getting her own body back, or the couple somehow getting past the fact that the captain was now a part of the relationship in a fairly immediate, if indirect, way. She sighed as she leaned back against the cushions, resting her head on the back of the couch, looking up at the windows that dominated this area of the suite.

The hiss of the door startled her and she raised her eyes to see Ro enter. The Bajoran lifted an eyebrow when she saw her, but she didn't hesitate in coming over to join her on the sofa, slipping her arm around the engineer's shoulders.

"I heard about the Borja," she said.

"Can you imagine?" B'Elanna said wearily. "It's all a joke. They drop dummy ships into space keyed with these devices, and then see what happens when some other species picks them up to examine them, getting a big belly laugh the entire time."

Ro hugged her briefly. "At least, it will be over soon."

B'Elanna rested her head on the taller woman's shoulder. "Not soon enough for me."

"For either of us," Ro noted. She paused, then brushed her lips over the other woman's forehead. "I know it's been difficult for you to comprehend my view on this, Lanna. I want to thank you for being so understanding."

"Hey," B'Elanna said, patting her on the knee, "when we moved in together, I promised I would always try to find a way to work things out between us."

"Still, that's not always easy to do," Ro said. "I know you want us to be more intimate right now. I'm just finding that impossible with the captain's body. Thank you for giving me this leeway."

B'Elanna growled, or at least, attempted to. "Just remember to spend a lot of time 'thanking' me in a more concrete fashion after I get my old body back," she said, nudging her.

"I promise," Ro said. She smiled. "For days and days and days."

"I'll remind you of it," B'Elanna said with satisfaction, relaxing into her partner's arms. As she did, she realized that 'partner' was exactly how she was coming to view the Bajoran. Not just her lover or even merely the woman that she loved, but the single person who was going to share every aspect of her life in the future. She wondered if Ro felt the same way.

"Lanna?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

B'Elanna blinked. To her knowledge, it was the first time Ro had ever said it to her first, without her prompting it by saying it to the Bajoran ... or possibly when they were in bed together. B'Elanna couldn't always remember the details when they made love, especially pertaining to who said what first.

"I love you, too," she whispered huskily.

She closed her eyes and let the woman hold her, feeling as if this ship was her home finally, and not just something she had to tolerate until they were back in the Alpha Quadrant. As she settled against her partner, she allowed herself to drift off, assured that she would be safe in these arms for as long as she needed to be held.

"Senior officers to the bridge."

The call woke her up and she blinked, her thoughts muddled. She had fallen asleep, and so had Ro, spooned together on the sofa as the afternoon passed ... like an old married couple or something. B'Elanna felt somewhat appalled that she had just left her duty shift without telling anyone, but she also knew that if engineering had needed her, they would have called.

"On my way," she muttered, rolling out of the comforting arms of the Bajoran who was also sitting up with a dazed expression.

"I fell asleep," Ro said, an astounded tone in her voice.

B'Elanna shot her a look of amusement. "You've been pulling a lot of double shifts," she said as she popped a mouth freshener from the bowl on the table, feeling the mint permeate the interior which had become dry from her nap. "But it sounds like things are happening. I've just been called to the bridge."

"Maybe I'd better go, too," Ro said, standing up and stretching slightly. She accepted a mint from the engineer and together, the women left their quarters and headed for the turbolift.

Stepping out onto the bridge for the second time that day, B'Elanna was aware of a full crew complement at their posts, including Seven of Nine who was covering the aft tactical station. Standing imperiously on the lower command level, Janeway regarded the fore viewscreen which held the impressive miens of five elder statesmen types. Apparently the ruling council of the Borja, they were looking at the captain of Voyager with mingled astonishment and outrage.

"Would you repeat that, Captain Kathryn Janeway?" the middle one, obviously the chairman of the board, said.

"You must have more of the devices," the captain said in a silky tone that B'Elanna immediately recognized as the captain's best diplomatic intonation. Moving unobtrusively, B'Elanna took over the engineering station from Susan Nicoletti as Ro drifted over to stand near Tuvok at tactical. "Being switched with a younger crewmember has worked to my benefit, as I'm sure it will with the rest of the older, intellectually superior members of our society," Janeway went on persuasively. "We're willing to trade significant amounts of goods for more of those ships. Plus, the vessels themselves are very attractive. They'll make our hangar deck appear so impressive."

B'Elanna stared at her, wondering what the hell she was talking about. Apparently the Borja also seemed stymied.

"You are not angry?"

Janeway spread her hands out, looking baffled. "Why would I be angry?" she asked with what seemed honest puzzlement. "Indeed, I'm grateful for the new vistas you have opened up for my people. I intend to return to our homeworld and share this experience with them. I'm sure as soon as they hear, you will receive countless of our wealthier citizens also wishing to partake of this device."

B'Elanna frowned and glanced at the five Borja leaders who were exchanging chagrined glances, actual anger appearing on their faces.

"That is impossible," the leader finally said, his face twisted with displeasure. "Captain Janeway, it is obvious that you and your people have no sense of humor. In fact, you're completely unprincipled. You are totally unsuited for our purpose. Begone."

There was an abrupt jolt, a sudden flash of light, and B'Elanna felt a wrenching deep inside herself. When she came to, she was lying on the deck of the lower command level, and before she made her next inhalation, she knew that things were somehow back to where they should be. Hesitantly, she sat up and looked around. Everyone else seemed to be coming out of a daze as well, straightening at their posts and blinking in confusion.

"Captain, our sensors indicate we're no longer in orbit around Borja," Tom said, peering at his board in confusion as he frantically input commands. "In fact, we've been flung approximately twenty light-years away ... unfortunately, not in the direction of the Alpha Quadrant. We're next to some kind of nebula."

"Captain, the hangar deck reports that the Borja vessel has ... vanished," Chakotay said, keying his board as B'Elanna slowly made her way to her feet. "Transported completely off Voyager somehow." He paused. "That's not all. The coordinates of the Borja homeworld have been wiped from the computer. They weren't taking any chances of us returning in a hurry."

"I guess they don't like it when the joke is on them," B'Elanna noted wryly and glanced over at the engineering station where Janeway was straightening. The captain caught her eye and the blue-grey eyes twinkled, making the engineer smile. "Please, don't throw me in that nasty old briar patch, Brier Fox," the Klingon added sardonically.

"They obviously never read Brier Rabbit's story," the captain said as she stood up from behind the engineering console. She raised her head. "If you don't mind, Lieutenant, I think I'd like my uniform back."

B'Elanna smiled widely and looked down at herself, at the red band of command across her shoulders, reaching up to feel the four pips on her collar.

"Aw, Captain," she said. "Can't I keep it?"

Gradually it began to sink into the minds of the rest of the bridge crew just what had really happened, and B'Elanna looked over at Ro, offering her a brief nod. The Bajoran looked tremendously relieved and returned the nod, smiling faintly. Seven of Nine was more forceful, coming down to the command level to meet Janeway, peering intently into her eyes.

"Kathryn?"

"It's me," Janeway assured her, touching the Borg's forearm briefly. "The plan worked. If there's one thing a practical joker doesn't like, it's when the joke doesn't work at all ... to the point where no one even knows a joke has been played. Get mad at them, and they'd be tickled, but be completely oblivious to all their effort and they're horrified."

"I guess they decided we just lacked the intellect to appreciate their 'refined sense of humor'," Chakotay noted. He eyed B'Elanna with a faint grin. "Uh, your orders, Captain Torres?"

"Very funny," B'Elanna snorted, but she smiled as the rest of the crew broke into laughter ... though she noted that a good part of it seemed to stem from relief rather than amusement. She glanced over and saw Seven and the captain were still standing together just below Tuvok's tactical station, staring into each other's eyes with complete absorption. Neither made any move to touch the other, but the sheer intensity of their gaze was enough to melt duranium. When Janeway finally dropped her eyes and moved away, there was a faint rosiness to her cheeks, and her eyes were as blue as the engineer could ever remember seeing them.

Obediently, B'Elanna made way for the captain as Janeway reclaimed her command chair, regardless of the gold and black colors of operations that she still wore. The Klingon suddenly felt self-conscious, knowing she lacked the elegance to pull off the uniform she had on, and she tugged at her collar uncomfortably.

"If you don't mind, Captain," she said. "I think I'll change."

Janeway eyed her with amusement. "That might be a good idea," she agreed. "For both of us. However, let's limit it to the uniforms this time."

Amid further laughter, B'Elanna blushed and made her way to the upper level. There, Seven was regarding her steadily. "May I speak with you, B'Elanna?" the Borg asked in a low voice.

Startled, B'Elanna frowned, then nodded. Unobtrusively, both women drifted over to the conference room.

"What's this about?" B'Elanna asked once the door had shut behind them. She was completely unprepared when Seven abruptly reached out with one hand, slipping it around her neck and pulling her forward as she kissed her passionately.

Too shocked to immediately object, B'Elanna nonetheless took the time to note that the Borg was a remarkably good kisser ... though not as good as Ro. Reminded keenly of her partner, she pulled away with a jerk, outraged.

"Are you crazy, Seven?" she sputtered, covering her mouth with the palm of her hand.

Seven regarded her coolly. "My apologies, B'Elanna," she said. "But I had to find out."

"Find out what?" B'Elanna asked, baffled.

Seven shook her head. "It is not important," she said soberly. "But now I understand it was not you that caused such emotional reaction within me, it was always the captain. You are my friend, and I adore you for it ... but Kathryn is and always shall be the only one I will ever truly love."

"Huh?" B'Elanna remarked, but before she could say another word, Seven left the conference room, the Klingon staring after her in complete and utter confusion.

Aware that something profound had happened, but not having a clue as to what. Janeway felt very old and tired as she entered her quarters, disappointed to find that her partner was not there even though both their duty shifts had officially ended two hours earlier. In fact, she realized that she hadn't seen Seven since she had left the bridge much earlier, and Janeway wondered uneasily if the young woman was avoiding her for some reason.

Or maybe she just doesn't want to deal with a cranky old captain, her little voice noted snidely as Janeway moved over to the sofa and sat down. She groaned faintly as she took stock of herself, noting that there were parts of her that ached in completely unfamiliar ways, and she wondered what B'Elanna had done to her body while she had been using it? She studied the knuckles on her left hand with a frown, noting that they had been skinned recently, the superficial wound still a little raw.

Or perhaps B'Elanna had just been living her life normally, forgetting that she was in a creaky old Human form that simply couldn't take what a twenty-seven-year-old Klingon could, she thought sourly.

Jake came over, as if sensing her disquiet, and rested his head on her leg, looking up at her with dark brown eyes. Apparently he was taking her switch back completely in stride, and she smiled at him faintly, comforted as she scratched behind his ears.

The door hissed open and she glanced up to see Seven enter, her sleek, young form lithe in the skintight biometric outfit. Her stride was light and powerful, and Janeway, for just an instant, was keenly envious.

"Where have you been?" she asked, hearing the testiness in her tone and wishing she had been more circumspect in her intonation.

Seven, however, took no notice of it, coming over immediately to the sofa and sitting down close to the captain.

"I was in sickbay," she replied. "Undergoing several medical scans."

Her irritation immediately disappearing, Janeway peered anxiously at her partner. "Is something wrong?"

Seven shook her head. "No," she said. "However, I have experienced certain physiological changes recently."

"Like what?" Janeway said, even more alarmed as she felt her heart twinge painfully.

"It is the specific bundle of nerve endings that has been designated as a 'g-spot'," Seven remarked casually. "It has been moved from the lower part of my pelvis to the barrier of scar tissue where my vagina terminates."

Completely dumbfounded, Janeway stared at her. "What?"

"My 'g-spot' has moved from my--" Seven began to repeat patiently and Janeway held up a hand, interrupting her.

"I know what you said," she noted, and the testiness was back in her voice. "I want to know what you meant. 'G-spots' don't move, Seven. It's not like you can slap a tractor beam on them and haul them around the ship. It's just not possible."

"Apparently it is," Seven countered neatly. "While mine was originally just inside my upper pelvic region as in a normal Human female, I believed it was removed when the Borg removed my reproductive organs. However, it must have, instead, been included in the tissue that was folded over to create the barrier where my cervix should be, and the connection from it to the rest of my nervous system has finally regenerated, allowing me to finally detect sensation from it when stimulated."

Janeway was at a complete loss for words.

"Why now?" she managed finally.

"I do not know," Seven said. "However, it is the reason why I was able to respond so favorably to the accessory in the holodeck scenario, as well as why my climax was so intense during our last sexual encounter." She paused, looking thoughtful. "And possibly why I have not responded to certain of your caresses as I once did. My nerve endings have adapted to recieving sensation from another portion of my anatomy."

Janeway inhaled slowly, wondering if other people went through this with their spouses. Somehow, she doubted it. She pressed her fingertips against the middle of her forehead.

"How did you discover this?" she asked, not sure she wanted to know.

Seven frowned. "I was aware of a new sensitivity where previously there had been none," she said. "I asked Sek to run some tests to determine what was causing it."

"Sek?"

Seven looked at her. "I am no longer as comfortable with the Doctor regarding certain matters as I am with her," she explained.

"Fair enough," Janeway muttered, still feeling stunned. "So she discovered that your ... uh ... 'g-spot' had 'migrated'."

"Yes," Seven said.

Janeway hesitated, then took a deep breath. "By any chance, will it now be remaining where it is or will it be taking future journeys to other parts of your anatomy?" she asked politely.

Seven considered that, blinking. "I do not know," she admitted. She looked intrigued by the notion, as if wondering what it would be like to have a 'g-spot' on her elbow.

"Oh, god," Janeway groaned, closing her eyes as a headache feathered along her temples. She realized, of course, that because of her assimilation at such a young age, Seven was in the unique position of having Borg attributes in her physiology that other ex-drones did not. Unlike an adult, or even the younger Borg children who were still growing, Seven's implants simply could not be removed entirely, her body having 'grown' around them, and sometimes that meant they reacted in strange and sometimes, even wondrous ways.

"Are you all right, Kathryn?" Seven asked, reaching over to place her hand warmly against the small of her back.

"I'm not sure," Janeway said dryly, but she leaned gratefully into the familiar caress with a faint sigh. "I guess I'm just getting used to my old body again," she said. She twitched uncomfortably. "Emphasis on the 'old'."

Seven frowned and brought her hands up Janeway's back for a soothing shoulder massage. "You are not old," she told her firmly. "Or rather, while you are indeed, older than B'Elanna, that does not make your body less viable." She moved closer and kissed Janeway on the corner of her jaw. "In truth, I find it more attractive and appealing than ever," she added in a provocative tone, making it very clear how much she had missed it and why.

"Sweet talker," Janeway grumbled, but she smiled faintly.

"Not at all," Seven remarked, her fingers working their magic on the tight muscles along the captain's shoulders and neck. "This is your body, Kathryn, every millimeter of it, and because of that, I adore it utterly. I love you no matter what form you may take, but I feel somewhat possessive of this body." She hesitated. "Do you suppose that B'Elanna utilized it inappropriately?"

Janeway wondered how to handle that, juggling it gingerly.

"In what way?"

Seven was silent for a moment. When she finally spoke, her tone was troubled. "Do you think that B'Elanna copulated with Lt. Ro while in your body?" she asked. "As we did with hers?"

Janeway felt a muscle jump in her jaw, hearing the distinct note of jealousy in her partner's voice. "I know for a fact that Ro was having a great deal of trouble with B'Elanna being in my body," she said with complete honesty, knowing anything less would be detected by her partner. "In fact, the last time I had the opportunity to speak with her personally, she indicated that she was quite wary of even touching it because whenever she looked at it, she saw her captain and not her lover. I think that their relationship is still too new to get by the concept." She paused, smiling faintly at her partner. "I don't believe either of them know each other as well as you do me, Annika. You could look past the outside shell to who I truly am, the person who adores you utterly. B'Elanna and Ro are not quite where we are. Indeed, most couples never manage to get to where we are ... they simply haven't been through everything we have."

Seven considered that. "Oh," she said. Her voice was definitely relieved, but she seemed content to accept the captain's take on the situation and leave it at that.

Janeway released the breath she had been holding. She didn't know for sure if B'Elanna and Ro had managed to overcome their perceptions as she and Seven had, but she certainly didn't want to pursue it. There were some forms of information that Seven simply shouldn't receive because she would do the most inconvenient things with them. The memory of the Borg punching Commander Chakotay over the desk in the ready room still lingered, and the captain knew that the last thing she needed was for Seven to take it into her head that Ro Laren had somehow overstepped her boundaries regarding Janeway's form.

Seven prodded the captain firmly at the base of her spine and Janeway jerked.

"Ow," she complained.

Seven nodded thoughtfully. "Definitely Klingon physiology."

"I think I'm going to miss that body," Janeway muttered, disappointed as she realized that all Seven's intended caress had done was send an unpleasant twinge up her back.

"I will not," Seven said. "Aggression is fine occasionally, but I like it best when you are tender with me, Kathryn."

"I'll remember that," Janeway said, squirming under the massage.

"There is one other very important thing to acknowledge about this form," Seven pointed out.

"What's that?"

"Your fingers are significantly longer than B'Elanna's."

Janeway thought about that, particularly with regards to the other revelations she had received this evening.

"Hmm," she said somewhat smugly, holding up her right hand to look at the digits in question as she wiggled them vigorously. "Significantly longer?"

"Yes," Seven said firmly, nuzzling the captain's neck. "More slender as well. They are quite pleasurable when utilized properly."

Janeway laughed. "I'm glad," she said, her tone dropping huskily. She turned and wrapped her arms around her spouse, the couple sinking back onto the sofa cushions. She kissed her lightly, a tender brush over her lips, a lingering promise of more to come. "I know I certainly appreciate the fact that I have such an asset," she murmured, looking deep into the pale eyes so close to her own. Seven kissed her back, a deep, loving caress of lips and tongue that was a balm on Janeway's soul.

"It is definitely an advantage," the Borg murmured when they finally parted.

"Can I tell you something, darling?" the captain whispered.

"Of course."

"Last night, I think I was a little afraid that you did find B'Elanna's body more exciting than mine," Janeway admitted bashfully. "Particularly after your ... very enthusiastic response. But now that you've explained about your regenerating nerves, I feel much better knowing that was the cause and not the Klingon form."

"It was always you causing my responses, Kathryn," Seven told her seriously. "You are the only one I love ... the only one I shall ever love."

"I love you, too, Seven of Mine," Janeway told her in all sincerity. "And you're right, I'm very glad to be back in my own body ... especially when you take such wonderful care of it." She was startled when, as if on cue, her stomach abruptly rumbled. Seven raised an eyebrow, her pale eyes alight with humor.

"It appears that your body requires care right now," she noted dryly.

"Hmm, I don't know when B'Elanna fed it last, but if you'll remember, I haven't been particularly regular in my meals lately," Janeway reminded her, poking the young woman in the ribs and making her squirm. "Her body is probably no better off."

"We can solve that now," Seven allowed. "What shall we have to eat?"

"Each other doesn't count?" Janeway remarked playfully.

"That is for dessert," Seven promised with a smile. "What do you want for the main course?"

Janeway closed her eyes and snuggled down against her spouse. "I think some of your wonderful cheese, mushroom, and pasta casserole would hit the spot," she admitted blissfully. "I know we had some for dinner the night before last, but with Klingon tastebuds, it just didn't taste right."

"I did wonder why we had so much left over," Seven noted dryly. "I have discovered that some dishes do taste better when reheated and fortunately, that is one of them."

"I suppose this means I have to let you up," Janeway muttered, her eyes still closed, not moving a millimeter.

"If you wish to eat," Seven pointed out. "Otherwise, we can remain exactly where we are."

Janeway bent her knee, moving it over the young woman's lap so that she was half straddling her as she put more of her weight on her partner. "I think I like that idea, too," she admitted.

Her stomach took that opportunity to protest loudly once more, and the captain heard Seven actually chuckle in her ear. "Some bodies are quite demanding when they return to their proper owner," the Borg offered quietly. "Rather like Jake. Though I might point out that B'Elanna does not feed him properly when she looks after him, either."

Janeway laughed. "That's a good one darling," she said. "I'll just have to remember that the next time something like this happens. From now on, B'Elanna Torres definitely does not get to look after my body."

Seven made a small sound of amusement as she hugged her spouse closer.

"Agreed," she said. "After all, that is my job." Seven inhaled the warm fragrance of her partner as the familiar form lay draped across her on the sofa. The captain's weight was comforting, a much beloved sensation that at the moment, the young woman simply couldn't get enough of. She did realize that she would have to get up eventually to prepare dinner, but in the meantime, she was more than content to snuggle with her Kathryn, getting used to her form and substance, basking in the sense that everything was 'right' once more.

"Annika," Janeway murmured.

"Yes, Kathryn?"

"If we don't get up right this minute, I'm going to fall asleep right on top of you," the captain warned.

Seven considered that. "Is that undesirable?" she queried.

"Not at all," Janeway responded. "Though we still need to eat." She raised her head so that she could look into Seven's face. "However, I do think that you and I should take the next couple of days off, just as if this had been an away mission. I'll authorize it for B'Elanna and Ro as well."

Pleased, Seven was nonetheless mindful of the request which had been made before this whole thing started.

"Did you ever discover why Chakotay requested leave?"

Janeway smiled. "Ah, good thinking, darling," she informed her. "But don't worry that our taking some time off will interfere with his plans. The next suitable world we come to, I'm issuing a full, three shift shore leave. I think the entire crew needs it after all we've been through lately. I promised the Commander that he could have my rotation as well, which will give him the full three weeks. That should be more than enough time off for him."

"But did you discover why he requires it?" Seven insisted curiously.

Janeway looked vaguely bemused. "Actually no," she said. "He didn't really volunteer any explanation beyond just needing the time off, though certainly, I offered him every opportunity to confide in me. I guess it will just have to remain a mystery for the time being."

Seven felt the corner of her mouth curve up. "That must be difficult for you," she noted. "Indeed, were it not for your incessant curiosity, you would never have discovered the function of the device which switched you and B'Elanna."

Janeway looked rueful. "Why do I get the feeling you're not going to let me forget that for a long time?"

"Because I am not," Seven told her, pulling her close and nuzzling her ear. Then she trailed her lips over the jawline until she found her partner's mouth, kissing her deeply. "Dinner," she stated firmly when they finally parted.

"Dinner," Janeway agreed reluctantly and got off the Borg.

Seven inhaled deeply and uncoiled from the couch, moving over to the kitchenette where she removed a container full of casserole from the refrigeration unit, covered the top with a fresh layer of Romano cheese and popped it into the heating unit. Janeway, in the meantime, had taken the opportunity to set the table,

As she did, Seven studied her surreptitiously, noting how she moved and winced occasionally.

"Are you sore, Kathryn?"

Janeway flashed her a rueful grin. "I suspect B'Elanna tends to be far more energetic in engineering than I am on the bridge," she replied. She shook her head. "Maybe I'm just out of shape."

"Or perhaps you were not fully recovered from our deprivation on Icinus before this happened," Seven noted. "I will ask the Doctor to make an appointment for you to receive a full physical as I did today." She raised her eyebrow significantly as Janeway offered her an outraged look. "Kathryn," she said, leaning heavily on the name, "you will look after yourself, or I must do it for you. In the meantime," she added, as a peace offering, "I shall draw you a bubble bath after dinner, and possibly that will ease any lingering soreness."

Janeway wanted to say something, Seven could tell it in every line of the captain's body, but she closed her mouth with a snap and finished setting the table. Then, she sat down at her place next to the windows and regarded her partner darkly as Seven carried over the steaming casserole.

"Do you think I'm so easily coerced into doing what you want," Janeway asked in a deadly quiet tone, "with just the promise of a bath?"

Seven eyed her judiciously as she scooped a generous portion of the pasta and cheese, depositing it on the captain's plate. "Yes," she decided finally as she took her own spot opposite her spouse.

Startled, Janeway let out a short bark of laughter. "Dammit, you're right, I am," she admitted. "A bath sounds really good, darling. And I agree; it wouldn't hurt for me to get checked out."

Seven wasn't sure what to do with this sudden acquiescence from her spouse. Perhaps Janeway was more uncomfortable than she let on, and the Borg made a mental note to add some aloe and other healing herbs to the bath when she drew it. It was not in the captain's nature to agree to medical attention so easily.

She was relieved to see Janeway fully enjoy her meal, actually consuming a second helping of the casserole. Obviously, it had been hard for her to adapt to the Klingon taste preferences. Remembering Naomi's last birthday party when B'Elanna flavored her strawberry ice cream with pepper and tabasco sauce, Seven could well imagine that it would be a difficult experience for the captain. After dinner, while the couple were clearing away the dishes, Seven brushed her fingers over the back of Janeway's neck as she passed behind her. The captain reacted with a brief smile but did not cease in her task, almost as if she hadn't entirely noticed the caress, so familiar was it ... which was exactly as it should be, Seven thought with relief. As the evening passed, and they continued these very domestic rituals that they had established over the time they had been together, Seven found she was gradually easing back into a sense of this being her home, her refuge, once more.

Later, she went into the ensuite and filled the large whirlpool bath, making sure the water was at precisely the correct temperature and that the combination of oils and fragrances she added would provide the most restful and soothing experience for her spouse. She looked up to see Janeway in the entrance, leaning against the doorframe, a rather wistful smile on her face as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Did you think it was that bad for me?"

"Kathryn?"

"You only pamper me like this when I've been through the wars," Janeway elaborated. "Figuratively speaking."

Seven smiled. "This is not just for your benefit," she explained. "Indeed, it has never been just for your benefit. I need to be able to provide care for you, Kathryn, especially after a difficult time. It makes me feel as if I am healing a part of me deep inside. This is the most efficient method to make it 'better'."

Janeway took a moment to consider that. "I didn't realize," she allowed gently. "I'm more than glad to allow it then, darling." She paused. "However, I need to be able to take care of you, every so often, as well."

"You do," Seven pointed out as she dipped her hand in the water, swirling it around, pleased that the sensation felt absolutely silky smooth. "When we were stranded on the ice planet, you took constant care of me." She looked up at her, her eyes alight as her chest felt suddenly full. "In fact, you saved my life by killing a deadly predator with your bare hands."

Janeway blushed and looked at her feet. "Oh, that..."

Seven smiled at her spouse's bashful expression, thinking it far cuter than a starship captain should probably look. "Come here," she requested quietly.

Janeway's head was still bent, but she was glancing from beneath her lashes, a crooked grin on her face as she drifted over to where her partner stood, patiently waiting. Seven enfolded her into her arms, nuzzling the soft auburn hair, kissing along her neck. Janeway remained passive, still smiling gently as the Borg unfastened the captain's tunic and carefully slipped it off her shoulders.

"I love you so much, Kathryn," Seven remarked quietly as she tugged at the slate-blue sweater, slipping it over her partner's head.

"I utterly adore you, love," Janeway responded. She paused, her breathing deepening as Seven kissed a trail along her throat. "Tell me, why did you and B'Elanna disappear into the conference room?"

Seven smiled, nibbling on Janeway's ear as she removed the captain's undergarment. "Kathryn, I placed some aloe in the water," she said. "It should ease some of your soreness."

Janeway laughed huskily. "Darling," she muttered as Seven hooked her fingers beneath the waistband of her trousers and pushed them down over her hips, "I believe you are trying to avoid answering the question. You didn't punch her, did you, in some odd kind of jealousy?"

"No, I did not punch her," Seven replied honestly. "Kathryn, it was a private conversation between B'Elanna and myself."

"In other words, mind my own business," Janeway noted dryly, resting her hands on Seven's shoulders as the Borg knelt to remove her spouse's boots and the trousers crumpled about her feet. Her hands tightened on Seven's arms as she carefully lifted one foot, then the other for her. "I'm not trying to pry, darling."

"Yes," Seven noted, regarding the nude form of her partner adoringly, delighting in every line, curve and freckle. "You are."

"I am," Janeway agreed with a smile. "Very well. If it's relevant to us, I know you'll tell me eventually."

"I would," Seven told her earnestly. "This was not important at all, Kathryn."

Janeway eyed her briefly, then nodded, her expression soft and vulnerable. Tenderly, the Borg picked the smaller woman up in her arms and carefully lowered her into the bath. The captain groaned pleasurably as she sank into the steaming water.

"Oh, love," she said, "this is heaven."

Seven kissed her on the temple. "Appropriate," she noted. "Since you are an angel."

Janeway chuckled. "Ah, such a charmer you are," she said, leaning back against the tub's smooth surface as she lifted an eyebrow. "Join me," she requested, reaching out her hand invitingly.

"For what purpose?" Seven asked. "You are supposed to relax."

"I can relax while you're in here with me," Janeway said.

Seven stared at her, amazed at such a blatant falsehood, and the captain laughed again, splashing her briefly with the water, getting the front of the Borg's biometric suit all wet.

"Kathryn!"

"Get in the tub, woman, before I drag you in here," Janeway ordered with a passable growl, undoubtedly her best imitation of her former Klingon form.

Seven laughed at her, but she did remove her outfit and slipped into the water with her spouse. Some more splashing ensued, and while it wasn't exactly what Seven had in mind for soothing her partner, she couldn't deny that the captain was very relaxed and at ease with herself by the time they were through. They didn't make love in the tub, but the lavish caresses and kisses they shared inflamed and aroused them both, so that by the time they got out and dried each other off with large fluffy towels, there was nothing left to do but stumble quickly into the bedroom where they fell onto the mattress amid breathless laughter.

Paying the most exquisite attention to detail, Seven then proceeded to thoroughly familiarize herself with her beloved spouse's body, going over every millimeter with the utmost care and concentration. If Janeway was unable to reach the sheer decibel levels of the previous evening, it was only because her vocal cords were simply not capable of hitting the more reverberating notes. As it were, she still managed to generate a loud protest from Jake out in the living area and provide a distinct ringing sensation in Seven's ears.

Afterward, they sprawled over the bed in a sated state of bliss, the captain using Seven for a pillow as she smiled happily.

"Annika, darling," she whispered, "I'm so glad things are back to normal."

Seven made a small sound of amusement. "Normal for us is actually abnormal for most people," she pointed out.

"So true," Janeway responded with a chuckle. She rubbed the Borg's belly lightly. "It's occurred to me that we may never have what is considered a 'normal' life."

Seven considered that. "Perhaps that is best," she allowed. "Because you are a far from 'normal' woman. Indeed, Kathryn, you are a most extraordinary person, and I am extraordinarily fortunate to have found you."

Janeway raised her head, looking down at her partner with intense scrutiny. "No, I'm the fortunate one."

Seven kissed her gently.

"We are both most fortunate, Kathryn," she said softly. "If that means we shall never have what is perceived as a 'normal' existence, then I am content with that."

"For as long as I live."

Epilogue

Ro Laren lay in a sweaty tangle with her partner, her breath coming hard in the aftermath of yet another loving encounter. She knew that both women had felt their recent deprivation keenly, but she was beginning to wonder if she could continue to keep up this pace. They had been in bed for two days now, stopping only to replicate the occasional meal which inevitably was included in the next round, and there was a part of her that didn't know if her stamina was up to it. Nor how they would ever get the chocolate mousse off the ceiling.

"I admit," B'Elanna muttered happily as she sprawled languidly across Ro, her head resting on the Bajoran's upper chest, "you certainly do know how to make up for those missed evenings while I was in the captain's body."

Ro smiled, stroking the wavy hair gently. "I promised you, didn't I?" she reminded her quietly.

"You did," B'Elanna agreed.

They were silent for a few moments, basking in the warm afterglow.

"Laren?"

"Yes, Lanna?"

"Do you suppose Janeway and Seven ... you know ... did it? In my body, I mean?" The Klingon's tone was just the slightest bit anxious, and Ro decided that it was just as well she had come to the decision that she had. Obviously, B'Elanna was not as blasé about it as she thought she had been ... not now that she was back in her own form and had the opportunity to really think about certain consequences. Ro was simply glad that she never had to know exactly what Janeway looked like in the heat of passion. It would have been impossible to look the captain in the eye ever again.

"I have no idea," she responded honestly to the question after considering it carefully. She paused, then inhaled slowly. "In any event, love, it's probably just as well that we don't know."

B'Elanna thought about it. "You're right," she said. "Some things, a body just shouldn't know." She smiled at her partner. "However, I'm certainly glad my life includes yours."

"So am I," Ro told her, stroking the wavy hair. "You've become vital to me, Lanna. I think this showed me just how much."

B'Elanna didn't respond verbally.

But the smile didn't leave her face for three days.

The End

•  This is the 36th installment in the Just Between Series.

• It was probably reflective of my own desire for a 'break' which only goes to show that I live my stories a little more than I should. *G*

• It was posted on May 26th, 2000.

Just Between Rest & Recreation
G. L. Dartt

The tapered silhouette of USS Voyager warped through space, the stars seeming to fly past the large windows which dominated the ready room. Standing before them, sipping her coffee slowly, the compact, auburn-haired Captain Kathryn Janeway gazed pensively at the dark reaches of the space which lay between her and the Federation. Stranded for the past six years in the Delta Quadrant, it had fallen on her rather slender shoulders to get her ship and crew home. It had not always been an easy weight to carry, but now the end seemed to be in sight and she discovered that the burden did not lie as heavy as it once did.

At the moment, however, they were in somewhat unfamiliar space. All of the Delta Quadrant was unfamiliar, of course, but for the past three years, they generally had charts and projections drawn up ahead of time before entering a new sector. The ship's astrometrics officer, Seven of Nine, could usually mine her memories of her time as a Borg drone for information based on the knowledge of thousands of assimilated species. Unfortunately, a little more than a week ago, Voyager had been flung twenty light-years into another sector of space by a technologically advanced species who had not found Janeway's sense of humor to be particularly funny. Since then, the astrometrics department had been working overtime to recalibrate the long-range sensors and produce charts detailing the quickest route back to the Federation.

That also meant that the captain had not seen her spouse for more than a few moments at any given time as the young woman threw herself into the task with the same discipline and dedication she brought to everything else in her life. For Janeway, who loved the Borg dearly, it was becoming increasingly intolerable, even as she knew that these tasks had to be done.

What they needed ... what the entire crew needed ... was some concentrated rest and recreation, she thought idly. The problem was finding a suitable planet on which to set the ship down, though it was not a decision to be made lightly. Condition Blue tended to leave Voyager in quite a vulnerable position. To find a planet safe enough to land on was not a task high on the list of priorities for astrophysics, nor did Janeway want to add to the already stressed department's workload. The fact remained, however, that they all needed some downtime. For the past few months, ever since some brief leave on Balleyport space station, and an even briefer attempt at a vacation which ended when Janeway and Seven were captured by a promoter who wanted to put Seven in his 'sports entertainment' program, the ship had been careening from one adventure to another, with little time for the crew to stop and catch their breath. R&R had consisted of crewmembers negotiating additional hours in the holodeck, or an extra day off here and there. That was not the sort of thing that promoted truly beneficial, long-term relief.

The captain and Seven had been under particular stress, beginning with the whole misunderstanding regarding the fate of the Borg children, continuing through crash landings on ice planets to most recently, a situation where the captain had switched bodies with her chief of engineering. It had not been easy for Janeway, but she suspected that it had been even more difficult for her spouse. Seven needed some time away from all the things that had been happening, a certain amount of space to gain some much needed perspective, and the captain was determined to provide that for her.

It was just a matter of figuring out how.

The chime of her door interrupted her thoughts and she turned her head. "Come," she invited.

The door slid open to reveal the tall, darkly handsome first officer, Chakotay, and she turned fully, waiting as he ascended the short flight of stairs to the ready room's upper level. He moved lightly for a man of his bulk, but there was a certain set to his shoulders that indicated a deep-seated fatigue in him. Even the tribal tattoo over his left brow seemed to droop with a certain weariness. Not long ago, he had requested a formal leave of absence and as yet, she had been unable to grant it.

"Commander," she greeted, reaching out to accept the padd he held out for her.

"The report from astrometrics," he explained as she scanned the information there. "They've just completed the final charts, and we should be able to plot a relatively secure course through this sector."

She nodded, taking another sip from her cup. "Any possibilities of an uninhabited, Class M planet we can use for shore leave?" she asked.

She raised her eyes, seeing surprise and what also might have been gratitude in his gaze. "We haven't exactly been looking," he allowed.

"Put Harry on it," she said. "I don't want to load any more onto the astrometrics department, but I really would like to provide a full leave to the crew. It's been too long."

"Agreed," he said.

"Anything else?" she asked.

He handed her another padd. "Regarding the students in the Starfleet courses," he explained.

She read the padd, her eyebrow rising in astonishment.

"Graduation?" she queried.

"From the first phase, anyway," he noted. The senior officers had set up a series of educational courses to provide Starfleet training for those crewmembers who wanted to be more than merely 'provisional officers' when they finally returned to the Alpha Quadrant. Chakotay had taken on a significant teaching role with those Maquis and Delta Quadrant inhabitants, and it appeared that his efforts were about to bear fruit.

"Goodness, Seven didn't mention this at all," she noted, studying the recommendations for where the next phase of education should take the students. At this point, it was customary for cadets to channel themselves into specialized fields; medicine, engineering, operations, sciences, or command. Of course, most of these students were already working where they were best suited, and had been for the past six years on Voyager. These courses were more a formality than anything else, but as Janeway knew, sometimes formalities could be vitally important to someone who was striving to achieve certain dreams and aspirations.

"The courses are not officially finished until this final testing period," Chakotay corrected quietly. "However, Tuvok, the Doctor and I, fully expect Seven, Neelix, Tabor Jur, White and Ayala all to pass with flying colors."

Janeway stared at him, wondering why he had picked out those names specifically from a class of fifteen.

"They're the only ones interested in pursuing it to official status," he elaborated. "The rest of the students aren't required to be formally tested before they graduate."

Janeway blinked. "Where did the time go?" she muttered rhetorically, staring at the padd. Though the ten months of classes provided had certainly not been as extensive as four years of study at Starfleet Academy, most cadets did not spend three to six years actively serving on an actual Starfleet vessel before attending a class, either. Any one of the names listed here were quite deserving of full status within the command chain of Starfleet at this point. "Do you have any recommendations as to rank?"

"'Ensign' will suffice for Neelix," he said. "Although he has certain aspirations of eventually joining Starfleet's Supply & Service area, he seems willing to remain as our cook and morale officer. With Seven being a departmental head, however, and, for all intents and purposes, a senior officer, she should carry the rank of 'lieutenant', at least. As for the other three, I see no reason why they simply can't maintain the ranks they have, and change them over from provisional officer insignia to Starfleet pips."

"You and B'Elanna haven't," Janeway noted quietly. "Even though you have graduated from the Academy and Lt. Torres had more actual Academy training than any of the others in the class."

He took a breath. "Depending on how things go in the future, B'Elanna and I might end up needing to do just that," he admitted. "But for the time being, Tabor and Ayala are prepared to accept a full commission in Starfleet, unlike the rest of the Maquis in the classes who seemed to be taking them just to fill time. As for Seven and Neelix ... maybe you should think about issuing uniforms as soon as they've graduated."

"Science for Seven and operations for Neelix?"

"That's where we thought they would fit best," Chakotay agreed.

Janeway nodded. "As soon as you have the test scores, let me know, and I'll issue a memo as to the new status of the graduating cadets," she said. "Along with the new insignia and uniform patterns." She eyed her first officer curiously. "It seems to me that a certain celebration is also in order."

He grinned faintly. "My thoughts exactly," he noted. "However, it would be preferable if we could surprise Neelix as well."

Janeway imagined the reaction of the stocky Talaxian being presented with his uniform complete with single pip, and had to agree. "I'll see what Ensign Wildman and Sek have to say," she promised. "We probably won't be able to organize a party as well as Neelix can, but I'm sure we can come up with something appropriate."

She looked thoughtfully after her first officer as he left the ready room and retrieved her cup from the table, pouring herself a fresh serving from the silver thermos. She tried to imagine Seven of Nine wearing a Starfleet uniform and felt her chest swell with pride. Of course, she had seen her partner in a uniform before ... during a temporal incursion that never really happened though she remembered it all vividly. She felt a headache threaten as it always did when she was considering temporal incidents, and resolutely decided not to think about it. Instead, she drank her coffee and wondered if Seven would be as keen in her appreciation of receiving a commission as Neelix undoubtedly would be.

A few hours later, after going over a few possible shore leave possibilities with Chakotay, she wrapped up the last of her work and headed for deck three, leaving the bridge in the hands of Tuvok, Voyager's Vulcan chief of security. Jake, the couple's Irish Setter, was waiting for her when she arrived at the quarters, his bushy red tail waving cheerfully. She patted him, then glanced around, wondering why things were so quiet since her partner should have been off duty by now. A quick glance in the bedroom revealed the answer. Curled up between the sheets, the sleeping Seven rested her cheek on her hands, looking very young and vulnerable. So deep was her slumber that she didn't stir, not even when Janeway paused on her way to the ensuite to deposit a kiss on the Borg's temple and draw the blankets more securely about the blonde woman's shoulders.

The captain changed out of her uniform into a black t-shirt and trousers, then returned to the living area to retrieve Jake's leash. Together, they left the quarters, the dog trotting neatly by the captain's side as she led him to the turbolift, descending to deck eight where cargo bay two had been transformed into a small park.

She released him as soon as they were inside, the dog streaking across the artificial lawn, pausing to sniff at all the various trees and bushes anxiously. Of course, every instinct probably told him to mark his spoor on each one, just as dogs had done throughout existence, but somehow ... and Janeway had no clue how because she had never heard of it being done before, and she had certainly trained more than her share of pups ... Seven had taught him to limit it to sniffing only.

Janeway was still astounded every time she saw the aberrant behavior pattern, but she was suitably grateful for it. After all, the only way they could keep a pet on a starship was if certain natural behavior was curbed. She found a place under a tree, leaning back against the smooth bark as she watched Jake lope around the park, greeting everyone he came across and quickly getting involved in an impromptu disk toss with two ensigns from geometrics. Janeway inhaled deeply and glanced away, noting who else was availing themselves of the park at this time. Across from her, on a checkered blanket, the stocky ship's messhall specialist and morale officer, Neelix, shared a picnic dinner with Ensign Wildman. However, it did not seem to be any sort of a romantic encounter. Instead, a profusion of padds littered the ground around the couple, and there was every indication that the blonde biometrics officer was drilling Neelix on the information contained in them.

Neelix was obviously preparing for the final round of examinations for his classes. If Commander Chakotay thought he would pass with flying colors, the Talaxian was not as certain, his brow furrowed, his gold eyes narrowed as he studied intently.

Janeway smiled, wondering if Seven was also preparing for the finals or if she merely intended to assimilate them. The reminder of her partner made the captain long for home, and after making sure that Jake had finally tired himself out, she clipped his leash back onto his collar and headed for the exit.

Seven of Nine woke as she felt a warm, familiar body join her in the bed, smooth skin sliding over her back sensuously, arms wrapping comfortingly around her. She sighed, inhaling deeply as she opened her eyes. It was dark, the lights lowered to night standard in the couple's bedroom.

"Kathryn?" she whispered.

A soft sound of amusement in her ear. "I certainly hope so," Janeway muttered as she settled her nude body against her partner. "Were you expecting someone else?"

"No," Seven responded, nudging her spouse with her elbow as she recognized that she was being teased. She snuggled back against the smaller form. "What is the time?" she added curiously. She had finally finished her duties at 1400 hours and had gone directly to bed as soon as she returned to her quarters, having spent the past week working double and triple shifts along with the rest of her department. They had needed to completely recalculate where they now were as compared to where they had been, and determine the safest and most expedient course back to the Alpha Quadrant from this new starting point.

"2230 hours," Janeway replied, nuzzling the back of the young woman's neck.

"Did you have dinner?" Seven asked.

"Yes," Janeway told her. "What about you? Would you like me to get you something now?"

"No," Seven said. "I am not hungry." Her voice trailed off as she yawned. "I am still tired."

"You should be, love," Janeway assured her quietly and hugged her. "You and your people did exceptionally good work in a very short period of time. I'll make sure that's noted in the logs."

Seven squeezed the hand in her own as her answer rather than speak, feeling the drowsiness steal over her again. Janeway kissed her cheek sweetly.

"Go to sleep," the captain instructed, humor edging her tone. "We should be arriving at an uninhabited Class M planet within the next three days and I expect it to be the perfect place to accord the crew some R&R. Consider yourself off duty for the next three rotations ... beginning now."

Seven tightened her grip again. "What of you?"

A regretful pause. "I'm afraid I'll have too much to do," Janeway murmured. "With Chakotay requesting a formal leave of absence, I need to supervise the skeleton crew who will cover the ship while it's operating under Condition Blue." She pressed her lips against Seven's temple. "I'm sorry, love. I know that you were hoping for us to have some time to ourselves."

Seven shifted, rolling over onto her back so that she could look at her partner. "It is acceptable to spend time with you under any circumstances," she said quietly. "Perhaps I could accept duty for the next three rotations, instead."

"You don't have to do that," Janeway protested, her head raised, her weight supported on her elbow. "Darling, after all your hard work, you deserve some time off."

"Time off is not very enjoyable without you," Seven told her sincerely. "In any event, during Condition Blue, Voyager does not require the same careful attention as it does while traveling through space. It would be pleasant to have a regular routine of duty where we could work together each day, then return to our quarters every evening. The extra replicator rations I earned while covering the crew's R&R would also be useful."

Janeway considered it, then smiled faintly. "That's what I love about you, darling," she muttered. "You have a way of always looking on the bright side. After all the upheaval lately, perhaps a light routine will be as much a vacation as a full leave." She paused and pulled Seven closer. "However, Annika, I do promise that you and I will go off alone together ... soon."

Seven heard the slight trace of remorse in the captain's voice and she reached up, stroking Janeway's cheek. "Kathryn, being with you is enough," she said softly. She hesitated. "Please, do not feel guilty. Do not make me regret telling you of my wish."

Janeway's eyes narrowed, then she exhaled audibly. "You're right, darling," she said ruefully. "I know that's why you didn't want to tell me in the first place." She relaxed against the bed until she was pressed against Seven's side, nestling her head onto the Borg's shoulder. "But I will find a way to do this ... not from guilt, but because I love you."

Seven closed her eyes and snugged her arm around the smaller woman, pulling her close.

"I love you too, Kathryn," she whispered.

"In any event, I do want you to take tomorrow and the next day off," the captain insisted.

"Very well," Seven murmured, too tired to argue about it.

She felt Janeway place her hand on Seven's upper chest, the fingers stroking her skin soothingly, and the Borg let herself sink down onto the firm support of the mattress. The captain's breath was a warm rush across the hollow in her throat, while the rich, auburn hair was a soft texture upon which to rest her cheek. It made it easy for weariness to draw her down into a safe, dark area, the rhythm of her partner's heart lulling her into a deep, peaceful sleep.

When she woke, Janeway was gone. Seven realized she had not only slept through the captain getting out of bed, but also preparing for her shift and leaving the quarters. It occurred to the Borg that she had become so accustomed to certain things over time that she no longer woke at the slightest sounds or motion as she once had. As long as it was Janeway making the noise, her subconscious recognized it and was not disturbed. Of course, when the captain had been transferred into the body of B'Elanna Torres, the exact opposite had occurred. Every time Janeway had moved in the night, Seven would wake, disconcerted and alarmed, feeling as if something was horribly wrong. Inevitably, she ended up going out on the sofa in the living area so she could get what little sleep she could manage. It hadn't been easy for either of them, but they had made it through somehow.

They always did.

She smiled faintly and stretched luxuriously beneath the blankets. Despite the fact that Janeway was not there to share her leisure time, Seven had progressed enough on her path back to Humanity that she could appreciate a couple of days without duties. She knew there were still plenty of things that needed to be addressed; spending time with the Borg adolescents, refreshing her memory on the lessons from her Starfleet courses in preparation for the final examinations, working out the delicate balancing act of the ship's park in hopes of adding birds to the environment, and finally, finding some time to examine the various containers in the couple's closet. Janeway had noticed that they were starting to stack up and had mentioned that they should think about discarding some of the items. Seven would rather be the one making the decision on what needed to go rather than allowing her partner do it. Janeway could be quite single-minded when it came to getting rid of things she didn't feel she needed.

For all that, however, Seven remained exactly where she was, trying to appreciate the fact that while she should attend to all of those things, she didn't have to attend to them. It was uncharacteristic of the excruciatingly efficient Borg, but she had been exploring certain avenues of Human behavior recently, and finding value in not doing anything at all was one which had intrigued her. She was especially aware of it since discovering that some of her most satisfying and appreciated interactions with Kathryn took place when they would spend hours simply sitting or lying together, sipping wine, talking quietly and listening to music. She wondered if being idle was something she could manage on her own without the presence of her partner to fill her senses and fully occupy her attention.

She was also aware that she had been under a certain, constant stress for quite some time, harkening as far back as an encounter with an alien who had impersonated her mother. The most recent incident, where Janeway and B'Elanna had switched bodies, had almost completely broken Seven's vaunted Borg discipline and control.

Looking back on it, Seven realized that she had not had any time to reconcile the roller coaster ride of emotions she had been experiencing, nor had she any place where she could go to try to make peace with them. The one area on the ship which she had most considered hers, the single, solitary place where she could go to be alone ... just as Janeway had her ready room or the cockpit of the captain's yacht docked beneath the ship ... had been taken over by the Borg adolescents. It shouldn't have bothered her, Seven thought, but it had. As for her quarters, only now was she starting to feel at home here again after it became a place of strife and uncertainty stemming from the incident with the Borg infant.

She finally rolled out of bed, not because she had to, but because she wanted to. She discovered that made a certain amount of difference in her energy level, and in the shower, which she programmed for hot with a massage action, she very quickly began singing lustily at the top of her lungs. She spent several moments luxuriating in the steaming rush of water, then dried off before returning to the bedroom where she drew on her black, silk robe, disdaining the need to get dressed in any other kind of outfit. Out in the living area, Jake greeted her with interest, his head tilted slightly, ears perked as he regarded her, almost as if he could sense she was attempting something new.

She keyed in a replicator program for breakfast, materializing an omelet, hash browns, toast and some Canadian bacon, far more breakfast than she was used to, then ate it by herself at the dining table over several padds which contained the information she required for her upcoming Starfleet examinations. Replete, she spent the rest of the morning working on the deck eight park projections, coming up with ideas on how to integrate a pair of hummingbirds into the delicately balanced environment.

After skipping lunch, she spent the afternoon cleaning out the couple's walk-in closet. That was where Janeway discovered her when the captain finally returned home after a full day on the bridge. Seven was sitting cross-legged on the deck, surrounded by souvenirs, knickknacks, artworks and odd bits of clothing that she didn't believe either of them would wear again after the various alien celebrations which had required them. She glanced up at the captain, who had crossed her arms over her chest and was leaning against the doorframe, a small grin touching the corner of her mouth.

"Darling," Janeway asked, "What are you doing?"

"Cleaning," Seven replied honestly.

Janeway pressed her lips together as she regarded her steadily. "You have dust and dirt all over you," she noted dryly. "Your robe is dangerously close to covering nothing at all, and everything that was stored neatly in five containers is now spread over most of the closet. Which part actually has to do with 'cleaning'?"

"You are teasing me," Seven replied in a dismissive tone as she returned to trying to determine if the couple really required a metal sculpture from Veris II.

Janeway nodded in acknowledgment of the accusation, her blue eyes sparkling, and looked around again. "Tell me, have you managed to bring yourself to throw anything out?" she asked in the sort of sardonic tone which indicated she believed Seven was incapable of doing any such thing.

Insulted, Seven pointed to the pitifully small pile in the corner. "Those may be recycled for their energy," she explained with wounded dignity.

Janeway uttered a short bark of laughter, and Seven glowered at her which made the captain smirk even more.

"I suppose you could do better," the Borg pointed out coolly.

Janeway spread out her hands. "You know I want to throw it all out," she said dryly. "Most of it is ... well, junk ... for lack of a better term."

"Kathryn," Seven objected in outrage, "every item has significant historical value."

Janeway picked up a spider-like sea shell from Denora VI. "This?" she queried. "I don't even know where we got it or more importantly, why. If there's no memory association, there's no value, Annika."

Seven crossed her arms over her chest, offended. "I picked that up while on the beach," she said.

"Why?" Janeway insisted.

"Because it was ... aesthetically pleasing," Seven said. She hesitated. "Do you not remember Denora VI?"

"Oh, I remember Denora VI just fine," Janeway remarked. "It was a beautiful beach. But the shell provokes no particular memory at all for me. It looks like it could have come off any beach."

Seven stared at the deck stubbornly. "Denora VI was where we kissed by the stone outcropping as the tide came in. The shell was resting in a crevice right next to your hand as you leaned against the boulder. It was shaded pink in the light of the sun which was setting with the full red spectrum, making your hair appear as if it were touched by fire itself." She felt a suspicious catch in her throat. "Place it in the discard pile," she added unhappily.

There was a pause, then she heard Janeway move to her, picking her way gingerly around the various items before kneeling down next to her partner whom she wrapped up in her arms.

"No, it doesn't go in the discard pile, Annika," the captain said huskily, her voice muffled in the Borg's hair. In her hand, she still held the shell, cradling it carefully in her palm. "I don't believe any of these things do, despite what I said. I promise that when we return to the Alpha Quadrant, I'll build you a home big enough to display them all, and when we're both old and grey, you can tell our grandchildren the story behind each and every one of them."

Seven allowed herself to relax into the loving embrace. "You think I am being irrational," she said as she accepted the shell from her partner.

"Not at all," Janeway told her apologetically, pressing her lips against the young woman's temple. "I think you've developed a sentimental streak as big as all of space and I'm sorry if I dismissed that. The truth is, I utterly adore this side of you, and I need you to make up for the side of me that forgets how important it is to be able to hold pieces of our past in our hands."

Seven hesitated, then turned her head so that she could kiss the captain. "I love you, Kathryn," she murmured against her lips. Her partner could be terribly hardheaded at times, the Borg thought, but when Janeway finally realized it, she usually managed to be absolutely adorable in her apology.

"You're my heart, Annika," Janeway responded softly, with great sincerity. "Now, let's put these things back exactly where they belong."

The bright sun overhead shimmered off the cheerfully burbling water, dancing sparkles of light across the creek. The water was ice cold, but the hip high boots were insulated, keeping Chakotay's legs warm as he stood up to his thighs, casting his line into the shallows across the current. Beside him, trying hard to imitate the smooth flow of the first officer's motion, the Borg adolescent, Icheb, sent his line spinning into the stream, his narrow face intent.

Chakotay glanced at him and grinned, the boy returning the smile as he tried to cast again. For someone who had never held a fishing rod before, the Borg youngster wasn't doing too badly at all. It was doubtful they would be able to catch a fish for their supper, but that was why Chakotay had gathered some extra foodstuffs from Voyager before the Delta Flyer had dropped them ... along with their supplies which included a canoe ... off in the wilderness.

Behind where they fished, a camp had been set up in a small clearing, protected on the lee side of some rocks and pine trees. It was a lovely setting and Chakotay had been duly satisfied with it when he first stood on the banks of the crystal clear stream. The tricorder readings had promised lifeforms in the area which were suitable for consumption, and a check of the climatic conditions revealed that this area was in the early part of summer, a perfect time to do some communing with nature.

Voyager's first officer had not planned on taking Icheb with him on this spiritual journey when he first applied for his leave of absence, but over the past few weeks, he and the boy had become very close. In fact, Chakotay had discovered a somewhat surprising affinity for parenthood in himself, a certain aspiration to be a good role model for the young man as Chakotay's father had been for a discontented young boy so many years ago. As for Icheb, he seemed to have found a man to replace his own parent, a teacher whom he could look up to in this new, confusing existence as an ex-drone on a starship moving ever farther away from his home and all that he had known. The way Icheb's eyes had lit up at the invitation remained with Chakotay, and Icheb's face, rapt while the first officer had regaled him with stories of his own youth, had left a warm spot inside the older man. Chakotay felt filled with a sense that he once again held a true purpose in life.

It was a purpose he desperately needed because for some time, he had felt that his life had been cast adrift, particularly as Voyager got closer and closer to returning to the Alpha Quadrant.

Now that they were in contact with the Federation, and with the news that the Maquis had been officially pardoned, Chakotay was uncertain where his future path would lead him. Indeed, the entire time he had served as Janeway's first officer, there had always been the thought at the back of his mind that he would have to face charges for his actions as a Maquis, that he would have to answer for his abandoning of his role as a Starfleet officer. He had prepared himself for that battle, readying himself as a warrior, only to discover that there was no battle to be fought ... not against the Federation, not against Starfleet, not even against the Cardassians any longer. That war had left him far behind and now there was only a future where his people were gone, his compatriots, other than those on Voyager, were dead or starting new lives of their own after being released from prison, while the colonies that they had fought so hard to protect in the Demilitarized Zone had been totally eradicated.

He still remembered how he felt when he received that letter from his cousin, that not only had the Maquis been destroyed by the Cardassians and their new allies, but that all the worlds in the demilitarized zone had been claimed completely by the Dominion and given to the Jem'Hadar as training grounds. Any colonists that might have escaped the initial strikes, were soon hunted down by the new, biogenetically grown warriors as part of their development into full, adult soldiers.

The Maquis had fought for nothing, Chakotay thought bleakly. After a war which had involved the entire Quadrant, the very thing that had helped precipitate it was no more. For sheer futility, perhaps the Dominion could teach a thing or two to the Borg on what it really meant. Yet, the Dominion had been defeated, and Voyager could now expect to return to a Federation and a Starfleet which was considerably different than the one they had left six years earlier, not only territorially, but politically as well. What kind of place could he find for himself there ... or was there any place at all?

"I have one, Commander," Icheb yelped suddenly, his voice rising in excitement.

Chakotay's dark thoughts disappeared as if they had never been, and he quickly splashed over to assist the youngster who was gamely trying to pull in the fish which had struck the bait. The first officer didn't try to take the rod from the younger male; he merely steadied Icheb's slender frame and offered encouragement.

"Easy now," he said, a broad smile on his face as he watched the boy reel in the large salmon-like creature. "Let it do most of the work. Don't snap the line."

Eventually, Icheb managed to bring the fish into shore and a quick pass with the tricorder revealed that it resembled a salmon in more than looks, apparently providing as tasty a repast as any Earth fish would.

"Well, done," Chakotay told the boy, who beamed. He slapped him on the back companionably, then started back to the campsite. "Come with me. I'll show you how to clean it."

"Why was this so exciting?" Icheb asked earnestly as they walked across the springy grass which grew on the bank. "It seems an illogical pursuit, yet when I captured the fish, I felt as if I had accomplished something great."

"You had," Chakotay explained as he slapped the still gasping fish down on the flat top of a convenient boulder. "You ensured your survival. The sense of self-preservation is strong in everyone, and when one engages in something as basic as securing one's own food, rather than relying on technology or someone else, it gives you a sense of control over your own destiny. Give a man a fish, and he will eat for a day. Teach a man to fish, and he will eat for a lifetime." He placed the keen edge of the knife against the white belly of the fish. "However," he added gravely, "you must also be conscious of your place in the food chain and be grateful to this creature that it gives its life for yours. Respect its place in the circle of existence as well."

He showed Icheb how to offer thanks for the bounty the fish would give them, teaching him that from death, came life, to never take it lightly. It was one of the first lessons his father had taught him, and sometimes, over his life, he had felt that the lesson ... and the spirit of his father ... had slipped away from him.

Today, however, it was as if his father was watching over his shoulder, acutely present on this world so far away from where they had been born. As he guided Icheb in the ways of the tribe, he started to realize that he had accepted more than just responsibility for the lost boy. He was beginning to rebuild the tribe destroyed by the Jem'Hadar, for as long as the lessons of his people could be passed on, they would never truly die.

Tonight, after they had feasted on the fish, he would show Icheb how to contact his spirit guide. It would be the first step on a road that, hopefully, would lead them both to a new home.

B'Elanna Torres watched the sunshine move slowly across the tangled sheets, streaming in through the viewport above the bed she shared with the Bajoran, Ro Laren. At the moment, Ro was lying on her stomach across the bottom of the bed, allowing that sunshine to fall across her back, making her smooth skin glow warm and golden in the deffused light. The Klingon blinked lazily, leaning back against a stack of pillows, a smile of satisfaction and contentment on her face. The couple had volunteered to join the skeleton crew during this time in order to accumulate the extra rations granted such dedication. However, it had turned out to be very light duty, and since they had offered to cover the gamma shift, their days and evenings were free to totally immerse themselves in each other. They had even had the opportunity to go outside a few times to spend some time hiking in the forest and among the rock formations which surrounded the valley where Voyager had landed.

This day, however, they remained inside, waking up in each other's arms before sharing a leisurely breakfast in bed. After making love a few times, now they were simply enjoying the opportunity to laze around their quarters. For some reason, it felt like they had more time together while working Condition Blue even though the actual duty shift was the same length as a normal shift. What they didn't have to face, however, was the strain of constantly being recalled to duty to attend one problem after another, that a ship traveling through space often caused. They only worked the eight hours, logged off promptly as the chronometer turned, and did not need to spend any extra time on jobs that only they were expected to accomplish.

"Hey," the engineer said, reaching out with her foot and drawing her big toe lightly along Ro's ribs. "Are you asleep?"

Ro made a soft sound of amusement. "No," she said. Her head was resting on her arms, and the one eye which was visible to the Klingon, abruptly opened to regard B'Elanna indulgently. "Did you want something?"

"You," B'Elanna noted. "But that's sort of a constant craving. Actually, I was wondering if you were in the mood for lunch about now?"

Ro laughed softly. "That sounds good," she allowed. She paused. "Are you on the menu?"

B'Elanna grinned. "I could be," she said.

"Come here," Ro said, stretching out a long arm to grasp B'Elanna by her ankle and draw her closer. The Klingon laughed, half growling with arousal as she allowed the Bajoran to pull her down the bed until she was sprawled over the lean form. She kissed Ro sweetly, being careful to control her enthusiasm. Just as the Bajoran had developed a more assertive approach in her affection in order to please B'Elanna, the Klingon had tempered her aggressiveness and discovered a new pleasure in being extremely gentle and loving with the other woman.

Ro was smiling warmly at her when they parted. "You're pretty wonderful, did you know that?" she muttered softly.

B'Elanna felt a shiver of sheer joy ripple through her. It was unfamiliar but welcome. "I'm always glad to hear it," she responded frankly. "You're not so bad yourself." A brief shadow crossed over the Bajoran's dark eyes and B'Elanna hugged her a little tighter, needing to make it go away. "What?" she added quietly.

Ro blinked, as if surprised her companion had noticed, then smiled again, a little sheepishly this time.

"It's just me," she explained. "I'm so incredibly happy right now. It's just such an unusual state for me that I keep waiting for the inevitable bad thing to come along to take it away."

B'Elanna hesitated, then brushed her lips over the ridge on the Bajoran's nose. "I used to be like that," she agreed, quietly. "Never letting myself be too happy because I knew it just couldn't last." She reached up and stroked the other woman's cheek with gentle fingertips. "But you know what I've learned? It's okay to be happy every so often. We need to enjoy the good moments to the fullest, and not worry about when they're going to end. I mean, they will end, everything does ... but that doesn't mean that we won't get more, or even that we'll end up having more bad times than good. It just means that we should appreciate what we have when we have it."

Ro regarded her steadily. "You're right," she allowed. "But it's a hard habit to break."

"I know," B'Elanna responded with a smile. "Believe me, I know." She bent down and kissed her again, allowing all her love to rise to the surface and be transmitted through her lips. Suddenly, all she wanted to do was hold her lover and protect her and keep her safe from all the things that could cause her pain. The Bajoran seemed to sense that and enfolded B'Elanna in her arms, hugging her tightly.

For long moments, the pair just snuggled together, staring into each other's eyes and trying hard to live in the moment. Finally, B'Elanna chuckled.

"We must look pretty silly," she said. "Making moon-cow eyes at each other."

"Probably," Ro murmured, her classic features unusually soft and vulnerable. "But I don't care."

"I don't, either," the Klingon responded. She closed the distance between them, covering the Bajoran's lips with the most gentle kiss she could manage. Ro returned it readily, her lips parting beneath the engineer's, welcoming her taste and touch.

Slowly, their hands began to move over each other, languidly exploring familiar territory that responded with keen enjoyment and pleasure. The sunshine made a fitting accompaniment both to their mood and to the fact that their future seemed to look so bright. If either of them continued to contemplate dark premonitions, then neither brought it up for further discussion. For B'Elanna, it was an affirmation of all that she had been feeling for the past few weeks, ever since the couple had moved in together.

That finally, she had found her place in the universe and it was in the arms of this Bajoran woman who had so utterly captivated her, heart and soul.

Janeway leaned back in her command chair, studying the data streaming across the computer console which she had turned toward her. At the fore part of the bridge, the blast shield had been drawn back to reveal a large window behind the normal location of the viewscreen. The ship had landed in a small, green valley between two mountain ranges, while a small lake, including a waterfall, completed a natural vista which was absolutely stunning, a spectacular view for those who still had to work during the ship's downtime. Through the large ceiling port above, sunshine streamed into the bridge, the circle of light falling over Janeway's feet, the ultraviolet rays illuminating the interior of the command center in a way that the Voyager crew was simply unused to.

So far, the planet discovered by Harry had provided all the recreation potential the captain could have hoped for, and at any given time, eighty-five percent of her crew was outside. Janeway, Lt. Ro, and Commander Tuvok split the bridge duty every day into three shifts of eight hours while the rest of the volunteer crew counted up the extra replicator rations they were receiving for eschewing their leave at this time to cover the few stations the ship required during Condition Blue.

Janeway took a break, inhaling deeply as she stretched and glanced around. At the tactical station to her right, Ensign D'Vor concentrated on his board, experiencing his first opportunity to pull bridge duty, even though a Condition Blue was probably the only time he ever would. On the other side of the bridge, Seven of Nine worked at the science station on her slipstream project, while the rest of the stations were left unmanned, though certainly, they could be covered quickly enough in an emergency. There was no real need for Seven to be on the bridge, of course, but since it needed to retain power all the time, it was more energy efficient for her to work from the bridge station rather than in a lab or astrometrics.

Janeway was simply glad of the company while she covered the bridge, and as a result, duty was a pleasure rather than a chore ... particularly when she could glance over and catch the eye of her partner who never failed to sense when she was being watched and would reward the captain's scrutiny with a warm glow in her pale eyes and sometimes even a faint smile.

Despite being on duty eight hours out of the day, the couple still had many opportunities to take breaks throughout the shift. They would retire to Janeway's ready room for a leisurely lunch or grant themselves fifteen minutes here and there to enjoy a cup of herbal tea together as they discussed Seven's slipstream project or other ship's business. They also spent time working on the vessel's ongoing projects, with Janeway offering her unique take on the park project in particular. One such suggestion had totally confused the young woman until she realized that the captain was not serious at all, whereupon she managed to maintain the joke until she had the perfect opportunity to reverse it on the captain. It delighted Janeway and completely shocked D'Vor, who was astounded to see the captain suddenly bend over, holding her ribs as she laughed and snorted, leaning weakly against the science station.

Shaking his head, the young man dared to espouse the opinion that perhaps the couple should have taken shore leave after all, which made Janeway laugh all the harder. She was still amused by it now, hours later, as she ran various scans of the ship's operating systems through her console, monitoring their output.

"You know, you were absolutely right, Seven," she said, quietly. "This is like a vacation."

She looked up to see the Borg smile faintly. "Agreed," Seven responded in an equally low tone.

Janeway held the gaze for a few moments more, enjoying the play of deffused sunlight over the narrow face adorned with Borg implants. Abruptly, the captain was overcome by an unexpected and powerful desire for her spouse, acutely aware of Seven being only a few feet away, yet literally untouchable. It was a unique and refined sort of torture, one that Janeway rather enjoyed as she desperately tried to come up with a way to get her partner alone. She wondered if she dare ask D'Vor to take a run to the engine room with some reports? Of course, that would hardly be subtle under a Condition Blue. It was entirely possible that she would just have to force herself to wait until after their shifts. She peered at Seven from beneath her lashes, absorbed in how the Borg moved, how every tiny motion of the young woman was a dance of sheer beauty and grace.

The vision caused Janeway to reach up and hook a finger under her collar, feeling quite warm. Perhaps if we just take a few moments for some kisses? she wondered briefly. That would probably hold her until they could return to their quarters. She frowned faintly and shot a look at D'Vor, who remained intent on his tactical console, apparently oblivious to the steadily increasing temperature of the bridge.

She needed a logical reason to have Seven accompany her into either the ready room or the conference room. The problem was, the more she tried to think of one, the more ludicrous any excuse sounded to her. There was simply no way she could legitimately ask Seven to absent herself from the bridge at the same time as she, and not have it look exactly like what it was ... a blatant attempt at very unprofessional behavior.

"Captain," Seven said suddenly. "I have completed my preliminary report on the new modifications of the integrity fields. If you have a moment, perhaps we could go over them?"

"Of course," Janeway said smoothly, standing up. "Let's go into my ready room. D'Vor, you have the bridge."

"Aye, Captain," he replied with surprise and not a little excitement that he had been accorded such an honor. His chest puffed out three sizes and she tried not to smile as she passed him.

The door of the ready room had barely closed before Janeway had her arms wrapped around Seven, pressing her up against the bulkhead and kissing her deeply. There was a brief moment of hesitation, almost surprise, then Seven returned the kiss avidly, her lips parting to allow passage for her partner to taste her fully.

"Oh, darling," Janeway murmured after they finally parted for breath. "That was good thinking."

"What was?" Seven queried.

"The excuse about the field modifications," Janeway said, her hands moving freely over the young woman's body, delighting in what could be one of the few remaining times Seven would wear such a skintight outfit. Soon enough, the Borg would be wearing a Starfleet uniform which, while holding its own attraction, would simply not show off every line and curve of the young woman as the biomesh suit did.

Seven looked puzzled. "It was not an excuse, Kathryn," she said. "I did wish to go over the modifications with you." She paused. "You assumed another motivation?"

Janeway chuckled. "Let's just say I was trying to find a reason to get you alone," she admitted. "Your timing was impeccable."

"Ah," Seven noted, comprehension lightening her eyes. She tilted her head as she regarded her partner. "You are feeling amorous. It must be 'that' time of the month."

"I don't know anything about any certain time of the month, but I am feeling very amorous," Janeway agreed. She drew her hands over Seven's hips and down her legs, stroking lightly. "I don't know if I can hold out another few hours before I can be with you."

"Yet," Seven noted, grasping the wrists gently, "you must." She smiled and guided the captain's arms around her waist, moving them away from temptation. "Anticipation is acceptable. You enjoy that as well."

"I do," Janeway said, nuzzling Seven's neck, just above the line of her outfit, though she was very careful not to leave a mark. "But it will make the remaining hours seem unbearably long."

"Then we should not indulge this," Seven pointed out.

Janeway lifted her face, feeling Seven's breath flow warm over her face. "Do you want me to stop?" she whispered, her lips barely brushing against the Borg's.

Seven lowered her head. "No," she responded softly.

Janeway smiled, then kissed her spouse passionately, pressing her body full length against the lean, lanky Borg. Seven's hands cupped the captain's buttocks firmly, pulling her groin tightly against the Borg's. Janeway felt the sharp chill of arousal shoot through her as she moaned softly into her partner's mouth. She couldn't seem to get enough of the young woman, kissing her so deeply that she thought she would tear the very breath from the Borg's lungs.

Both were shaking when Seven, keeping precise track of the time, pushed the captain away. "You are difficult to resist, Kathryn," she gasped, her bosom heaving in a most delightful manner. "Perhaps we should violate protocol after all."

"I would say something about resistance being futile at the moment," the captain noted as she deliberately took a few steps back, clenching her fists as she felt the blood sing in her veins. Her whole body was literally throbbing and she knew that her eyes must look a little wild at this point. "But that's your line." She took a deep breath, steadying herself. "We can't make love, darling," she said. "It would be inappropriate, not to mention the fact that I can't leave D'Vor in command that long. Not even during a Condition Blue."

"A few more hours," Seven promised, and handed her a padd. "The modifications."

Janeway laughed, a short bark of amusement. "I'll go over them," she promised.

Seven swallowed hard, touched her hair to make sure it had not come loose, then vacated the ready room hastily, as if afraid that if she didn't leave now, she wouldn't be able to. Janeway gripped the padd tightly, using the solidity of it to help center herself. She honestly didn't know why these occasional insane moods came over her, though she suspected it had a great deal to do with a delayed reaction to stress, something that the couple had experienced more than their share of lately. Before her relationship with Seven, such moods displayed themselves in bouts of imprudent or irrational behavior, shortened temper or even periods of depression and guilt.

Now, she channeled them into stolen moments of passion with her spouse, giving rein to her wilder, less mature side to ease the pressure inside. She hoped that this was a lot healthier for her, and for the ship and her crew as well. She knew that Sek, the ship's counselor, would love to know about the power of the impulses, but the captain had no intention of ever allowing the hologram that close to her. Only Seven was allowed to see them.

Certain that she was once more in control, she inhaled deeply, then returned to the bridge. D'Vor seemed a little disappointed at her relatively quick return, which was exactly what she wanted, and she moved over to her command chair briskly where she sat down, crossing one leg neatly over the other. She rested her hands lightly on the arms of her chair ... the very picture of an alert and competent Starfleet captain.

The fact that her nipples had hardened painfully against her sweater or that there was definite moisture dampening the juncture of her legs, could not be detected, and she was appreciative that, unlike a man, such physical manifestations of arousal were not readily apparent. She swallowed and deliberately did not look back at her spouse, choosing instead to go over the field modifications as she had promised. The next few hours would be difficult enough without reminding herself of what awaited her.

That didn't keep her from fantasizing, however ... at length and in intensive detail, involving several bridge stations, a couple of accessories and at least one anatomically impossible position that not even Seven could manage in reality.

If Tuvok noticed that Janeway seemed in a hurry to turn command over to him when the end of the shift finally arrived, he did not mention it ... for which Janeway was suitably grateful. She entered the turbolift with Seven and D'Vor, keeping her eyes focused firmly on the doors. As soon as they opened, Janeway was striding briskly down the corridor for her quarters. She heard Seven make a pleasant, if hasty, farewell to the young man, then the rapid tattoo of the Borg's heels on the deck indicated that she was hurrying to catch up with her partner. Janeway was already shrugging out of her tunic as she entered their cabin, and she dropped it behind her, tugging impatiently at her sweater which she pulled over her head in one easy motion. By the time she got to the bedroom, she was hopping on alternate feet as she removed her boots.

Finally naked, she turned around to discover her partner entering the bedroom, her arms full of the captain's discarded uniform.

"You're not undressed yet?" Janeway asked with honest disappointment.

"Not when I must pick up after you," Seven said pointedly on her way to the ensuite. "Enjoy the anticipation, Kathryn."

"If I enjoy it any more, I'm going to explode," Janeway told her plaintively as she crawled onto the bed and stretched out on her back.

Seven reappeared in the doorway, a smile edging her full lips ... still fully dressed.

"I believe that I shall take Jake for a walk outside," she said. "There is still some daylight remaining before nightfall."

"Seven!"

The growl was almost inarticulate. Would her partner really do that to her? Janeway thought frantically. The desperate expression on the captain's face must have rewarded the Borg's teasing enough however, and Seven relented, her smile widening as she reached up to the back of her neck, unfastening the biometric outfit.

"You're going to make me suffer for this, aren't you?" Janeway muttered as she watched Seven slowly, and with cool deliberation, remove her suit, revealing her body, millimeter by agonizing millimeter.

"I understand that Humans consider patience to be a virtue, Kathryn," the Borg said primly. It was rare that she had the captain so perfectly at her mercy, and it was clear that she was not going to waste it.

"I could start without you," Janeway warned.

Seven paused, her outfit still modestly held up to conceal her breasts. "Indeed?" she said, obviously intrigued. "That would be acceptable. Proceed."

"Dammit," Janeway yelped and took a swipe at her partner, grabbing at the outfit. The Borg quickly danced out of range.

Obviously, Seven wanted there to be absolutely no question as to who had control this night, the captain thought, and decided that she needed to come up with a quick way to change that.

Seven regarded Janeway through narrowed eyes, ready to leap away again the second the captain made a grab for her. The captain was quite agile, not to mention deceptive. Just because she was lying quiescent at the moment, staring at Seven with burning eyes, did not mean she wouldn't make another attempt to remove the Borg's biometric outfit without permission. Seven had no intention of issuing that permission ... not tonight. Tonight, she was in command and she wanted Kathryn to be very clear about that.

"If you persist in aggressively pursuing me, I shall not remove my outfit," she warned sternly.

"I'll be good," Janeway promised, with every evidence of sincerity.

Seven eyed her briefly, then slowly began to disrobe again. Despite her heightened alertness, she was quite unprepared when Janeway abruptly lunged at her and succeeded in snagging a sleeve which she hung onto with grim determination.

"Kathryn!" Seven yelped and pulled back, but all that resulted was the young woman losing her grip on her outfit, the biomesh peeling off her body. She stumbled over the garment tangled about her feet and fell back on the lounger behind her.

Triumphantly, Janeway yanked the rest of the garment from her and tossed it joyously aside before leaping on the Borg.

"I've got you now!" she exclaimed.

"You do not," Seven informed her firmly and utilized her Borg-enhanced strength, something she rarely did with the captain.

Before Janeway quite realized what was happening, Seven had their positions reversed and the captain pinned to the bed, unable to move ... though she certainly tried. She struggled mightily against the left hand holding her wrists immobile, the Borg's larger frame covering her and not letting her up.

"Seven, let me go!" she yelped in outrage.

"No," Seven said. "You deceived me. You said you would 'be good'."

Janeway opened her mouth to protest, seemed to reconsider and attempted to look bashfully regretful instead.

"I'm sorry," she said, in the tone of voice that Seven knew was not the slightest bit remorseful. "I won't do it again."

"I do not believe you," Seven told her, feeling a sliver of hurt ripple through her. She looked down at the captain unforgivingly, wondering what she would do with her now that she had her pinned. If she let her up, Janeway would think that she had 'won', but at the same time, the Borg certainly did not want to spend the evening holding the woman down on the bed.

"Seven," Janeway said demandingly, trying command authority when neither wheedling nor outrage worked. "Release me."

"No," Seven said again, stubbornly, frowning.

Stymied, Janeway stared at her, her face sobering as if becoming aware that they weren't playing anymore. "Why not?" she asked softly.

Seven was forced to think about it, realizing that she had slipped from teasing to being slightly angry, but not really understanding why. Silently she released Janeway and moved away, sitting up on the edge of the mattress.

"What just happened here?" the captain asked in confusion, rising up on her elbows.

Seven stared blankly at the bulkhead, feeling completely adrift. She wasn't sure why she had become so annoyed with her partner, but suspected that it had to do with Janeway trying to take control of the situation ... just as she always did. The Borg swallowed hard and refused to give in to the tears stinging her eyes.

Quietly, Janeway drew on her robe and moved over until she was sitting next to her partner. Seven didn't look at her, even when the captain draped the Borg's own robe around her shoulders. The atmosphere of heightened sexual tension and playful excitement, which existed only moments before, had drained away as if it had never been, leaving Seven with only a sense of loss and depression. She was aware of Kathryn looking at her with soft grey eyes, concerned about her spouse's abrupt change in mood.

"What's wrong?" the captain asked gently.

Seven inhaled slowly. "I do not know," she responded in a low voice.

Janeway looked baffled, at a complete loss for words. There was a pause, an uncomfortable silence which lay between them like a dark cloud, unfamiliar to them both.

Finally, Janeway reached over and took the Borg's hand in her own, cradling it between hers gently. "If I did something wrong," she said uncertainly, "I'm sorry. I was ... it was just play, darling."

"I know," Seven said. She swallowed, her chest aching. "Sometimes, you refuse to let me do things my way." She knew that wasn't very articulate, but she didn't know how to say it any better than she did.

Janeway considered that for a moment. "When I grabbed your outfit, I kept you from undressing the way you wanted," she said, the tone slightly tentative, as if she were thinking out loud. "I wouldn't let you control how you wanted to make love. Instead, I tried to control it."

Seven bent her head. "That should not be anything that would cause me to become angry," she said unhappily. "I know you were just being playful."

Janeway bent her own head, shame crossing her classic features. "It probably wouldn't upset you under normal circumstances," she allowed softly. "Except that lately, you're more than a little sensitive about me ... deciding how things should be for us. Even when it's something small. Or maybe it's especially when it's something small because we've worked out the big things as much as we can."

Seven didn't like the conclusion, but her innate honesty had to allow its validity.

"Yes," she whispered.

Janeway didn't seem any happier now that she had worked it out.

"I guess," she allowed after another pause, "that this is something we should have expected. In the meantime, I need to be more sensitive in certain situations."

"And I must remember not to be as sensitive," Seven agreed glumly.

Janeway slid her arm around her spouse's waist, leaning against her. "I'm sorry if I tried to force the issue inappropriately," she said quietly. "It's only because I want you so much, but I know that's no excuse."

"I ... I wish it had not made me angry," Seven responded, putting her own arm around the smaller woman, hugging her.

"Maybe you had reason to," Janeway said. Her voice lowered further. "Sometimes I want to be in control too much. Not only is it hurtful to you, but it costs me in the long run, as well. We could be making love right now, but because I was too impatient when things didn't go as quickly as I wanted, I acted without considering your feelings or what you might want." She closed her eyes and buried her face into Seven's neck. "I'm sorry, darling. Honestly, I am."

"I know, Kathryn," Seven replied quietly. She turned her head, resting her cheek against the captain's temple as she wrapped her other arm around her spouse. "I regret that this incident occurred. Especially how it has made you unhappy."

"Oh, darling," Janeway said ruefully, her voice muffled, "you don't make me unhappy at all. Just being with you makes me feel so good. Once in awhile, we're not going to be on the same page at the same time, but when that happens, we'll just have to find a way to fix it. That's all we can do. Otherwise, know that you make my life complete, regardless of any emotional turmoil we might experience."

Seven bent her head. "Do you still wish to make love?" she asked softly.

Janeway laughed, though there was little humor in it. "Maybe we should just have dinner, darling," she suggested wryly as she drew back to look at her spouse. "Take some time to regain our bearings."

Seven nodded, relieved. "That is probably a good idea," she allowed.

The Borg finished pulling on her robe and followed Janeway out into the living area where the young woman replicated a light meal of chicken and rice. They began their dinner with little enthusiasm, though, as the meal progressed, Janeway's appetite seemed to increase. Seeing that, Seven's did as well, and by the time she had served the dessert and coffee to the captain, the mood had become less tense, though still quiet.

"Darling, this is wonderful," Janeway said finally, as she dug into her ice cream and blueberry pie.

Seven nodded, but did not say anything. She knew the compliment was Janeway attempting to make up. Not that she thought the captain was being insincere, just that it did not have the same effect of filling her with pride and pleasure as such words normally did.

"You're still angry with me, aren't you?" Janeway asked sadly, after a moment of continuing silence from the Borg.

Seven was surprised. "No," she corrected, trying hard to explain it. "I am not angry, I am annoyed. Nor is it specifically about you or what happened this evening. I am more displeased with the circumstances which have brought me to a point where such an inconsequential thing could generate this level of irritation in me. Most of the time, I can understand and channel my emotion, but tonight, for whatever reason, I ... cannot."

"Some emotion can't be channeled, Annika," Janeway said slowly, toying with spoon. "Or necessarily understood every time. Perhaps sometimes you feel what you feel and both of us just have to allow for that." She scooped up a spoonful of ice cream and pie. "Darling, there have been plenty of times when I've acted in a way that you simply didn't understand, and the fact is, sometimes I didn't understand it either. But we got through it with patience and tolerance."

"Yet, every problem has a root cause, Kathryn," Seven insisted.

"Yes, it does," Janeway responded evenly. "And honestly, we know deep down what the real cause of this is. However, it's not something which can be resolved entirely. There's no complete closure with it. That's just something we have to accept, though that acceptance isn't going to be easy ... or immediate. That's the other thing we have to acknowledge."

"What must we do in the meantime?" Seven asked, dismayed.

"Live with it," Janeway said simply. She raised her eyes to meet the Borg's, staring at her intently. "Be kinder and more considerate of each other. Be quicker to take responsibility for any inadvertent hurt, be quicker to forgive any perceived slights, and just remember above all that we love each other completely. That will get us through it."

Seven thought about it, then nodded. "Yes," she said, feeling better. "That is acceptable. I will try hard to remember that, Kathryn."

"I will, too, darling," Janeway said, her face gentle. "My word on it."

Seven looked at her, feeling a deep love and tenderness rise within her so strongly, that she felt like crying. Instead, she offered her partner a tremulous smile, which made the captain smile in return, her eyes shading to blue. They held the look intently for a few moments, then Janeway moved to finish her melting dessert and Seven took the remainder of the dirty dishes to the recycler. At the counter, the young woman pulled out a bottle of wine and poured a glass for her partner, then acquired a tall glass of cold, spring water for herself. They took their drinks over to the couch where they snuggled up together, Janeway leaning back against the Borg as they listened to a selection of music which Seven had chosen.

The Borg kissed the captain's temple gently. "Kathryn, you are a most wonderful spouse," she murmured. "Please do not believe anything different, despite how I may act on occasion."

Janeway reached up and put her hand against the Borg's cheek. "Darling, if I manage to be sometimes," she said, a trace of ruefulness in her tone, "it's only because you inspire it."

Seven turned her head to kiss the palm lingeringly, allowing herself to heal from this minor bump in the road their lives had taken. Janeway purred, and placed her wine glass on the coffee table before turning over so that her front was pressed against Seven. Gently, she kissed the hollow of Seven's throat.

"I absolutely adore you," she said softly.

Seven smiled and tilted her head back, allowing her partner greater access to her neck. Obviously, her partner was still amorous, but Janeway was taking her time, seeming to wait for Seven to indicate that she could proceed before moving on to the next step. As the captain tenderly kissed along the line of her collarbone, the Borg carefully set her water on the ledge of the viewport above them, then wrapped her arms snugly around the captain's compact body, delighting in the weight resting on her.

"Annika?" Janeway's voice was questioning, her eyes tentative as she glanced up to meet her partner's gaze.

"Yes, Kathryn," Seven whispered. "Please."

Janeway smiled briefly, then rose to kiss Seven's mouth sweetly, trying to show how much she cared, how much she needed her. Seven returned the kiss, her lips parting to allow the gentle touch of her spouse's tongue against her own.

This was much better than how it had been in the bedroom, the Borg decided. Now Seven felt cherished, rather than merely desired, and while the difference was subtle, it was still quite a telling one. She was glad that she had followed her instincts earlier, allowing herself to be angry rather than simply swallowing it and putting it aside for Janeway's sake. She knew that she needed to be more conscious of what she required from their relationship, and more outspoken when it came to her goals and desires.

Perhaps if she had always been conscious of that, the couple would not have found themselves in the mess they had regarding the Borg infant.

She reached up and cupped her spouse's face in her hands, holding her in place as they kissed again, deep, loving kisses that made the young woman's head spin and Janeway moan softly into her mouth. The captain shifted her weight to the back of the sofa, leaning on her right arm as she wormed her left hand between them, untying Seven's robe, drawing it back, then untying her own to open it. The feel of the captain's warm, soft body was indescribable, and this time it was Seven who moaned blissfully as Janeway pressed her exposed curves full length against the Borg, continuing to kiss deeply.

A sharp tug at Seven's robe let her know that they were not going to be able to enjoy themselves out in the living area, and she drew back from her partner's lips, looking over to see that Jake had the corner of the terrycloth material firmly between his jaws, yanking on it playfully.

"No," she told him sternly, retrieving the sodden end as Janeway offered a husky laugh.

"We should know better," the captain said, shaking her head. "He hates to see us play with each other, especially when he's not included."

She rose from the young woman and stood up, her robe still hanging open to reveal her body which Seven regarded appreciatively. Hesitantly, the captain held out her hand. "Time for bed?" she inquired softly.

"Indeed," Seven agreed, accepting the grasp and allowing her spouse to pull her up from the sofa.

She snugged her arm warmly about her partner's waist as they went into the bedroom, sealing the door firmly behind them.

Sparks flew up into the night sky as various crewmembers sat around the bonfire situated in the main clearing, which was surrounded by away mission habitats. A great many of the crew had simply set up their campsites in the valley where the ship had grounded itself, leaving them close to the amenities of technology, yet far enough away to feel like they were truly on vacation. The water in the lake was pristine and clear, and the waterfall was just the proper height for diving into the deep pool below.

Tom Paris strolled up from the water's edge, a towel draped around his neck, droplets still streaming off his torso as he walked over the springy turf to his habitat. He could have remained on board the ship, of course, but even he was a little tired of being surrounded by the grand lady named Voyager after all these months. He loved space and found piloting the lively ship everything he could have wanted out of life, but there was no question that breathing fresh air and having time to himself on a planet's surface was renewing.

He finished toweling off next to his habitat, removed his trunks and pulled on a long-sleeved shirt and drawstring pants to protect himself against the cooling, evening air. Across the clearing, he noticed Neelix sitting in front of his own habitat, several padds around him as he studied their contents. Curiously, the pilot strolled over, collecting a couple of beers from the communal cooler along the way.

The Talaxian glanced up as the pilot approached, smiling as he was offered a bottle by the young man. "Tom," he greeted cheerfully as he accepted the ale. "Enjoying the leave?"

"Yeah, it's been too long," Paris said as he sat on a downed log nearby. He nodded at the padds. "You look like you're still working."

Neelix tilted his head, his golden eyes glowing slightly in the reflection of the fire. "Not work, study," he explained. "I have three final examinations for my Starfleet courses. Assuming I pass, I will then be able to accept a commission."

He was clearly apprehensive about it and Tom patted him on the shoulder. "You'll do fine," he said. "I heard Chakotay tell the captain that no one works harder in class than you do. That counts for a lot, Neelix."

"Really?" the Talaxian asked, seeming torn between being pleased at the compliment, and astounded that the first officer would be telling the captain of his progress. He paused, almost as if he had to look for the proper words, a decidedly unusual state of affairs for the affable and gregarious Delta Quadrant native. "It's important to me that I do well."

Tom regarded him evenly, realizing that the stocky alien meant exactly what he said, that being able to accept a commission was currently the most important thing in his universe. The pilot found himself remembering how easy it had been for him, as the son of an Admiral, to get into Starfleet. He had to pass the entrance requirements of course, but it was just assumed from the time he was old enough to walk that he was going to apply to the Academy and excel at all the challenges and demands of being a Starfleet officer. It occurred to him that perhaps it had come a little too easily. Perhaps if he had kicked around the universe and seen the other side a little more when he was younger, as Neelix had, he would not have taken it so much for granted.

Perhaps he would have even developed enough common sense to avoid the circumstances surrounding the crash that had cost the lives of several of his wing mates and ended up with him being cashiered out of the service. If it hadn't been for Janeway granting him another chance, he had an uncomfortable suspicion where he would have ended up ... and it was not pleasant.

"You'll ace the exams," he said with assurance.

"I hope so," Neelix said fervently.

Tom frowned. "You know, even if you don't get in, it's not the end of the world," he said. "You're a pretty resourceful guy, Neelix."

The Talaxian seemed to have trouble looking Tom in the eye and the lieutenant frowned.

"Neelix? Hey, talk to me, buddy," Tom urged. "Remember, who ended up getting thumped by the Spurnge together?"

Neelix nodded, acknowledging the bond which had formed between them after that adventure. "To be perfectly honest," he said slowly, "I've been worried about how I would do in the Federation. I know I always had delusions of being a diplomat for the Delta Quadrant, but honestly, how could I? I speak for no government, I don't even have a planet that I can call home." He looked down at his feet, looking distinctly unhappy. "When we were traveling, it was easy to pretend that I had such a future ... but now that it looks like we're actually going to make it to the Alpha Quadrant soon, things have changed."

"Not just for you," Paris offered softly. "Once we were in regular communication from Starfleet, it really made things immediate for everyone on board. Attitudes changed radically."

"The past started to affect the future again," Neelix said and there was a tone in his voice, a note that Tom recognized as one he heard from his own heart more than once, of opportunities that slipped through one's fingers, of a chance not accepted, even though it would not be offered again.

Tom eyed him cautiously, then studied the mouth of his bottle. "I don't mean to pry," he said quietly. "Just tell me to shut up if I'm crossing the line."

Neelix took a long swallow of his ale. "Go ahead," he said.

"Uh, Samantha," Tom said shortly, and left it at that.

What might have been pain crossed the Talaxian's spotted features. "We're friends," he said. "We both love Naomi. I'm honored that I was able to help them both while on this journey."

Tom didn't like the sound of that, and supposed that Neelix liked it even less.

"There were rumors," he said.

"I know," Neelix replied shortly. "They weren't true."

There was a pause, a drawn out silence of unspoken understanding.

"But you wanted them to be," Tom said finally.

Neelix inhaled deeply. "I guess I did," he admitted. "But when the communication packets from Starfleet started coming in, suddenly the life she left behind was the life that lay in the future."

"Her husband," Tom noted.

"Her husband," Neelix repeated in a dead voice. "Naomi's father."

"And you think being in Starfleet is going to change any of that?" Tom asked quietly.

"Not for Samantha and me," Neelix said. "She still loves him and they're already talking about how it will be once she's back. However, I still have to find my own future." He shrugged his solid shoulders. "Starfleet seems like my best choice. As a trader, I have no contacts in the Alpha Quadrant, and frankly, those Ferengi seem too much for my negotiating skills." He looked at his weathered hands. "Maybe this way I can stay with some of the people I love."

Tom guessed that was probably the best any of them could hope for. It occurred to him that while life hadn't been particularly easy in the Delta Quadrant, it had been a great deal simpler than would be the case in the Alpha Quadrant.

The two men sat there in the flickering light from the bonfire, thinking heavy thoughts and wondering what lay ahead for all of them.

Ro Laren leaned back in the command chair and contemplated the stars through the circular port above her. One didn't get a chance to do it under normal circumstances, but in a Condition Blue, a crewmember got to appreciate Voyager in a way that was impossible in space. First and foremost was the unique silence. A ship traveling in warp or even at impulse, had a distinct hum, the indication of constant power throbbing through the vessel's veins. The ship at rest provided little beyond a few minor beeps on the bridge as consoles monitored the ship, while most other noises sounded unnatural, echoing slightly in the corridors in this normal atmosphere ... as if Voyager were just a large building rather than a vessel capable of dancing between the stars.

Ro smiled at her rather poetic turn of phrase, wondering what was inspiring it. Probably her new responsibilities as the ship's 'rover' and her relationship with B'Elanna Torres, she decided. Lately, it had seemed that her life was so wonderful that even her ingrained reserve was giving way to a more openly emotional woman. A situation which was so unusual that she was left with the thought that things were going too well for her. Despite what B'Elanna had said about being happy when one had a chance, a part of Ro continued to be very wary of such a thing.

When was the other shoe going to drop?

Ro believed that there was a balance in the universe; that if one was extremely happy, then the crash, when it inevitably came, would be correspondingly bad. It behooved her not to allow herself to be too happy. On the other hand, she also had to allow that, if there was indeed such a balance, the Bajoran had experienced far more low times in her life than true happiness and perhaps it was simply her time to have things go well. Then, there was the fact that one tended to make their own fortune in life, so perhaps the thought of happiness and pain being measured out on some kind of cosmic scale, was a futility she was indulging for no good purpose, and she should just stop worrying about it.

She chuckled and stretched out her legs, finding the captain's chair a bit uncomfortable since it had obviously been worn in by a smaller, more compact woman. The Bajoran was tall and lanky, slim hips and long legs, more angular than the stocky Klingon with whom she shared her life. Sometimes she wondered what the beautiful and brash B'Elanna Torres saw in a toughened string bean like her.

She glanced around, feeling a bit lonely, suddenly. The rest of the bridge was empty, the gamma shift being lightly manned at the best of times. Now, she ran the functions through the console next to the command chair, monitoring the levels of power output that the ship was maintaining. Only a few hours remained before the alpha shift would relieve her.

The beep from the panel surprised her and she jumped slightly, before leaning forward to take a closer look, her fingers briefly touching the touch pad to draw up the information. What she saw made her eyes widen and the rhythm of her heart speed up.

Immediately, she slapped her hand to her comm badge.

"Bridge to Captain Janeway," she said.

"Janeway here," came the slow reply, though the captain did not sound as if she had been asleep.

"Incoming message from Starfleet," Ro said calmly. She activated the fore viewscreen, the blast shield having been closed for the night and the large panel restored to its normal position, dominating the front of the bridge. "Captain, it's live. I'm responding now."

"On my way," Janeway said crisply, but Ro was already answering the hail from the Federation.

The Bajoran scrambled quickly to her feet as she saw the face of Admiral Owen Paris appear on the screen in front of her.

"Admiral," she greeted evenly, though her heart was pounding. "Lt. Ro Laren, gamma shift conn officer. Captain Janeway is on her way."

"I see, Lieutenant," he said with a faint smile. "Well, I've always had the knack for dragging people out of bed at the best of times. It's nice to know I still have my touch, even contacting someone across the quadrants."

"Uh, yes, sir," she responded, realizing that there was little else she could say. She was aware of him intently studying the area around her.

"Lt. Ro, are you the only one on the bridge?" he asked curiously. "Is Voyager that undermanned?"

"No, sir," she replied. "We're currently under Condition Blue." She paused. "Shore leave, sir," she added lamely. Even though Starfleet personnel were certainly entitled to it, and this crew in particular after all they had been through lately, there was still something uniquely awkward about being caught with most of the crew off duty ... as if they were shirking it in some way. Undoubtedly a holdover from the more militaristic side of the Federation which Starfleet also represented.

To her relief, the Admiral laughed. "I'm glad to hear that, Lieutenant," he said. "I would hate to think the crew of Voyager has had no R&R over the past six years. After going through the last group of logs from the most recent communiqué, I'm especially pleased. Your ship tends to have more than her share of encounters."

"Yes, Sir," Ro responded, wishing desperately that Janeway would hurry up. Though the captain had probably been in bed and needed to get dressed first, which would take some time. The Bajoran thought irritably that Starfleet captains should be a little quicker than this at running for the bridge when they were needed.

He lowered his brows. "Actually, Lieutenant," he continued, "I'm rather glad that you, specifically, are the officer holding the conn. There's someone here who wants to have a few words with you."

"Sir?" Ro was rocked. She couldn't imagine anyone who would want to speak with her, unless perhaps it was a judiciary officer planning to charge her formally with desertion and conduct unbecoming an officer. She just couldn't imagine wasting precious communication time for something like that. She wasn't that big a criminal, was she?

"Stick around, Lieutenant," he ordered as the turbolift doors hissed open behind her.

"Yes, sir," she said faintly. Glancing back, she saw Janeway and Seven exit the lift, the captain still looking a trifle mussed, but far more presentable than being yanked out of bed would have made many others appear. Seven, of course, looked as sleek and immaculate as always, in her plum, biomesh outfit.

Ro dipped her head briefly at her commanding officer and discretely made way for the feisty captain as Janeway gracefully descended the short flight of stairs from the upper level. The woman's eyes were a bright bluish-grey, and they glinted with a certain anticipation as she addressed the admiral.

Feeling uncertain, Ro quickly moved over to the tactical station, out of range of the viewscreen, but able to see and hear everything clearly. She paid close attention, filing it all away in the proper order because she knew that B'Elanna would demand a complete recounting of the events taking place.

If Starfleet was able to transmit live feeds, the Bajoran thought furiously, that could change things considerably. No longer was Voyager lost and alone, it was once more part of the fleet at large. Unquestionably, there would be more than just contact or information exchanged; the brass would likely start issuing orders and addressing certain things that the crew of Voyager had forgotten or, in the case of some the Maquis, had never known. Janeway's decisions would immediately be evaluated, rather than separated by time and distance. On the other hand, Ro thought sardonically, what would they do if they didn't like how the captain was accomplishing things? Call Voyager into port and demand Janeway hand her ship over to a new commanding officer?

She glanced at the diminutive redhead standing there before the viewscreen, every line of her body one of absolute authority and bearing.

What did this really mean for Voyager? the Bajoran wondered. Janeway rolled over in the early hours prior to morning watch, draping her arm heavily over the incumbent form of her partner. The captain was half awake, uncertain what had awakened her, but finding it a pleasant prospect in this warm cozy nest of blankets and Borg stretched out beside her. Idly, her hand traced the slope of Seven's left breast, enjoying how it filled her palm, how the tip hardened sweetly beneath her touch, even though the young woman was still sleeping.

Or was until the captain's explorations woke her up.

"Kathryn?" Seven's voice was slightly slurred, muddled by drowsiness.

"Mmm, right here, darling," Janeway murmured, snuggling closer.

Seven made a soft sound of pleasure and rolled towards her, wrapping her up in her arms. They kissed, a slow, melting, entirely devoted kisses ... still drowsy, yet implicit in their promise of what could happen. Janeway hummed in the back of her throat as she ran her hands languidly over her partner's body, feeling desire rise within her, losing herself in the sensation of being with the woman she loved.

"Bridge to Captain Janeway."

Janeway groaned in dismay and drew back from her partner, twisting so that she could reach her comm badge which had been left on the night stand.

"Janeway here," she told Ro Laren, recognizing the voice of the bridge officer.

"Incoming message from Starfleet," Ro responded. There was a pause. "Captain, it's live. I'm responding now."

Janeway blinked, any drowsiness that might have lingered disappearing without a trace. Before now, the communiqués from Starfleet had come in the form of audio streams or compressed communication packets which had to be decoded and expanded later. This indicated that they had somehow managed to boost the transmission enough to include a visual contact.

"On my way," Janeway said, excitement coloring her tone.

Seven was already out of bed and into the ensuite where she retrieved Janeway's uniform, handing it to her spouse as soon as the captain flipped back the sheets and stood up. As Janeway pulled it on, the Borg affixed the comm badge to the captain's tunic, and fastened the four pips to her collar, in between donning her own biomesh outfit and pulling her hair back in an austere bun. Not for the first time, Janeway was astonished by the Borg's sheer efficiency.

"Have I ever told you how convenient it is to be married to you?" Janeway asked as the couple hurried from their quarters and entered the turbolift. She raked her fingers through her hair, hoping that would be enough to tame it.

"Frequently," Seven responded.

Janeway grinned as they stepped onto the bridge, then her face sobered as she saw the fore viewscreen revealing the imposing features of Admiral Paris.

"Admiral," she said smoothly as she took command simply by stepping down on the command level. From the corner of her eye, she saw Ro fade back to the tactical station. "It's amazing, but you've managed to catch us during a rare period of shore leave."

"So Lt. Ro informed us," Paris said. He tilted his head. "How many times have I managed to pull you out of bed in the middle of the night?"

The captain offered her most charming smile, aware of Seven's sharp glance at her, knowing that the Admiral's comment probably sounded far worse than how he had actually meant it. "More times than I can count," she admitted. "May I ask how you've managed to boost transmission to be able to accomplish this?"

She did notice that there was a slight delay in the transmission, which simply wasn't present during the same kind of communication in the Alpha Quadrant, but she supposed that was to be expected.

"Thank Mr. Barclay," Paris said. Behind him was a rather slender man who had to be the renowned engineering lieutenant who had made this all possible. To her amazement, he waved and grinned sheepishly.

She nodded her head. "It seems we have a great deal to thank Mr. Barclay for," she said graciously.

"In any event, it was somewhat of a surprise to us that we managed to get through tonight," Paris explained. "Once Mr. Barclay told me what he had in mind, I did my best to find some people in the area who would help make the attempt worthwhile."

"Just being able to hear from you is worthwhile, Admiral," she said.

The Admiral's eyes warmed as he regarded her. "I have to admit, Captain, it's good to actually be able to see you while I speak with you."

"It does make a difference, sir," she replied, though she was acutely aware that her hair must be slightly mussed and her features still slightly blurred from just waking up. "Sometimes, relayed messages don't always provide the same ... sense of home."

The Admiral nodded. "I don't suppose my son is anywhere handy?" Paris added with a casualness that Janeway thought was a little forced.

"If you could stand by a moment," she said, glancing back over her shoulder at Seven. The Borg was already on it, hands moving over the board, and the thin whine of the transporter was heard as a semi-naked Tom Paris appeared on the upper level of the bridge. He had on a pair of thigh-length shorts and nothing else, his feet and chest bare, his sandy hair mussed while in his hand, he clutched his comm badge.

"A little warning would have been nice, Seven. Why did you..." He trailed off as he saw the viewscreen. "Dad?"

Janeway shot a look at Seven. "Didn't you tell him what was going on?" she hissed.

Seven regarded her blandly. "There was not enough time," she remarked.

The captain resisted the urge to roll her eyes, and turned her attention back to the viewscreen. Tom, despite his disheveled appearance, was speaking with his father easily, as if there had never been a history of acrimony and harsh words between them. Janeway was glad to see that, having learned over time that life was too short to hold onto grudges or wounded pride. The young pilot had turned out to be a fine officer, and if the Admiral didn't recognize that, he wouldn't be much of an officer ... or a father.

"I have to cut this short, Tom," Paris said finally, with real regret. "We only have a limited time and there are a couple of other people who want to pass on some personal messages."

"I understand," Tom responded. He hesitated. "It was good to see you again."

"You, too, son," the Admiral said. His eyes were suspiciously bright as he glanced over at Janeway. "Captain?"

"I'm here, Admiral," she said, aware of Tom moving away. She kept half an eye on him, wondering how he was taking this, and thus, was not listening as closely as she otherwise should have been.

"There's someone here to see you, Kathryn," Paris said.

The use of her first name caught her attention, and she looked back at the screen, her eyes widening in shock.

"Hello, Kathryn. Annika, it's so good to see you again."

Seven offered a smile as she descended from the upper level, taking up a position next to Janeway who stared and stared, completely speechless.

"Hello, Gretchen," Seven greeted, nodding formally at the tall, slender, snowy-haired woman on the screen. "I am pleased that you were able to be a part of this contact."

The Borg's hand snaked out suddenly to grab Janeway's elbow, and dimly, the captain realized she must have been swaying slightly. Certainly, she was in overload at seeing her mother. A wealth of questions, comments, and emotions threatened to overload her mind, and she suspected she had the makings of a completely astounded expression on her face. It was probably a good thing that the bridge was completely clear of any witnesses, other than her wife and two protégés in the form of Tom Paris and Ro Laren.

"Mother," she managed. "It's so good to see you." Her voice sounded stiff and unnatural, but it was the best she seemed able to come up with at the moment.

"We don't have a lot of time," Gretchen said, smiling warmly at her daughter. "I just wanted to let you know how much we love you, and how much we're looking forward to seeing you come home."

"We doing our best to make that happen, Mom," Janeway responded honestly.

"I know you are, darling," Gretchen responded. "Phoebe sends her best. I know she'll regret missing this, but I was one of the few people currently in San Francisco that Owen was able to contact and bring here to Starfleet Command on such short notice."

Janeway wondered briefly what her mother had been doing in San Francisco. Was she living there now? What had happened to their home in Indiana? Too many questions and too little time to ask during such a brief and tenuous connection. But for the life of her, Kathryn couldn't think of anything else to ask that she needed to know right at the moment. So, instead, she stared at her mother, absorbing the sight of her into every pore so she would remember this moment after it was over.

"I miss you, too, Mom," she said softly.

Gretchen seemed to be staring at her as well, the moment stretching on into a few before both seemed to realize at the same time that they were taking up precious transmission time with silence. Janeway's mother raised her head, shifting her gaze to Seven of Nine.

"Take good care of her, Annika," she told the Borg.

"I shall," Seven promised quietly.

"Until we see each other again, my darlings," Gretchen said, and stepped back.

Admiral Paris reappeared.

"Thank you, Admiral," Janeway said, managing an even tone, though it was not easy.

"You're welcome, Kathryn," he said. He glanced to the side, then cleared his throat. "I have someone here who wishes to speak with Lt. Ro."

"Ro?" Janeway echoed in surprise, and she looked back at the Bajoran who looked extremely uncomfortable and not a little baffled herself. "Of course."

Ro moved down to the lower level and regarded the screen expectantly. Janeway raised an eyebrow as an intense, distinguished man in a captain's uniform appeared, his bald head gleaming in the subdued light. She heard Ro take a quick intake of breath ... a gasp of shock really ... while Seven lifted her head with a certain amount of respectful surprise.

"Locutus," the Borg murmured.

Captain Jean-Luc Picard looked at the women from the viewscreen, his dark eyes steady as they centered on the Bajoran in particular. Janeway understood suddenly that this did not concern her or Voyager at all, and she took Seven's arm, drawing her away from the lower level, affording Ro what little privacy there was, considering the communication was up on the viewscreen for everyone on the bridge to see and hear. Across the bridge, Tom Paris looked on with undisguised curiosity.

"Captain Picard," Ro said, her voice unnaturally precise.

Janeway had noticed that the more stressed the Bajoran was, the more reserved and cautious she became. Right now, it was as if Ro's skin no longer fit her properly, like she was ready to jump out of it at any moment. The sheer tension radiating from the woman was enough to provoke a sympathetic tightness in the captain's temples, creeping down her neck and across her shoulders.

"Ro Laren," Picard said quietly. "It's very good to see you again."

Janeway could see Ro swallow hard, the movement in her throat clearly visible.

"I would not have expected you to say that to me," the lieutenant admitted after taking a few seconds to compose herself.

He lowered his head, peering out at her from beneath his brows.

"I suppose ... I could understand why you would think that," he allowed. "But it would be inaccurate. Whatever has occurred, I still consider you to be one of my officers."

Fascinated, Janeway realized that Picard was as ill at ease with the situation as the Bajoran officer was. She didn't know the other captain that well, but the few times she had met him, his reserve and steely composure had been the thing she remembered most. Here, however, he seemed to be having a hard time hanging onto either.

"I ... that means a lot, Captain," Ro said softly. "I ... I know I let you down..."

He held up his hand, stopping her. "It's in the past," he said uncomfortably. "Whatever has happened is history and, while it can't be changed, I know that we both learned from it." He paused. "I have to admit, I was quite surprised ... and gratified ... when I discovered you had been in the Delta Quadrant all these years. I was very much afraid that you had been one of those swept up in the extermination of the Maquis by the Jem'Hadar."

"How I ended up on Voyager is ... a long story," Ro said awkwardly. She glanced desperately over at Janeway, as if seeking guidance, and the captain offered her the best compassionate, supportive expression she could manage. To her surprise, it seemed to work, and she saw Ro square her shoulders beneath the band of red she wore.

"Captain Janeway has been gracious enough to grant me another chance, Sir," Ro explained to the man who had been her mentor and CO. "I hope that I will be able to serve her in a way that I was unable to serve you. I do want you to know, however, that I will always regret not being able to complete the last mission you assigned to me ... not that I made the choices that I did, but that I disappointed you so badly in the process. I should have had the courage to face you with my decision at the time."

Picard nodded. "To be honest, Lieutenant," he said, a trace of sadness edging his tone, "it's possible I wouldn't have understood ... not then. After the events of the past few years, however, I've come to understand why, occasionally, one has to answer to a higher calling than our roles in Starfleet." He raised his head. "In the meantime, I have offered my recommendation to Starfleet that they uphold the reinstatement granted you by Captain Janeway, and drop any charges that might have been pending. I've also updated your service records on the Enterprise using the logs from Voyager. Your post at the helm will be waiting for you whenever you get back."

Janeway was outraged. They hadn't even returned to the Federation and already other captains were trying to lure away the people she had worked so hard on rehabilitating. She glared indignantly at the screen.

Ro glanced over at her in that moment, then smiled faintly as if seeing the thoughts reflected in the redhead's face. She seemed a little more self-assured as she looked back at Picard.

"I'm sorry, Captain," the Bajoran said earnestly, "but in that case, I would like to request a formal transfer to Voyager and Captain Janeway's command. As much as I cherished my time on the Enterprise, and was honored to serve under you, my future lies on another path." She paused. "I am sorry if that disappoints you yet again, Sir."

"It hasn't," he informed her. His dark eyes tracked over to Janeway. "It seems that you've acquired one of my officers, Captain Janeway."

"She's an asset to my command," Janeway said honestly. She didn't bother to add that once they were in Federation space again, she would undoubtedly lose Ro as well, this time to Starfleet Intelligence. Suddenly, everything seemed so immediate, as if they were returning tomorrow, and she had to forcibly remind herself that they still had thousands of light-years to go.

Admiral Paris came back into view and Janeway straightened. "Captain, we have to end this, though I want you to expect some increased contact for the next little while. Dr. Brahms, of the Theoretical Propulsion Group, has indicated that they've made some real breakthroughs in the problems which have been keeping Voyager from using the slipstream drive to return home. Starfleet has requested that they place a priority on this project, and I'm sure that between your people and hers, you'll be able to apply any solutions they come up with as soon as possible. Expect a full report included in the communications packet we're transmitting now." He hesitated, his eyes softening.

"We haven't given up on you, Kathryn."

"No, sir," Janeway responded, her throat tight. "Thank you, sir."

"Starfleet out."

The screen flickered to reveal the official symbol of the United Federation of Planets, a circular starfield of worlds surrounded by olive branches.

At least, that hadn't changed, Janeway thought. She was aware that Seven was over at ops again, downloading the packet being transmitted and rerouting it to astrometrics where she would decompress it later. Across the bridge, Ro seemed stunned, lost in thought, her head bent, her arms crossed over her chest as she stared at the deck.

She was the first of many, Janeway thought. Suddenly, with Starfleet able to offer live transmissions to their ship, the Federation just got a whole lot closer ... nor was it entirely in a figurative sense either.

What would the next communication bring? Seven of Nine worked diligently at her board in astrometrics, decompressing, decoding and organizing this latest packet from the Federation. Apparently, word had spread about the communiqué, and she noticed that as soon as she transferred the various personal letters and information to the workstations of the crew, the files were immediately accessed, as if each crewmember was anxiously standing by with a remote link, waiting for the download to finish. She suspected if she looked out at the campsite which had sprung up near the lake, she would find everyone sitting quietly near their habitats, studying their padds eagerly, seeking news from home. Indeed, the only one who had yet to access his copy of the official Maquis pardon was Chakotay, and that was because, she suspected he had not taken any equipment with him on his retreat other than the communicator, which he only activated to check in with the ship every so often. He could not yet know about the contact with Starfleet which had arrived in the early hours of the morning.

Once Seven was finished categorizing and transferring the files, she accessed her own particular station, noting that, in addition to letters from both Gretchen and Phoebe, there were several notes, files and recommendations from Dr. Leah Brahms. Seven decided that she would share the information with B'Elanna and Harry as soon as possible, but in the meantime, she took a moment to briefly skim most of the contents.

She raised an eyebrow at the suggestions put forth by some of the research team. At least three were immediately applicable, and it was possible that they had even solved the integrity field problem which had been a major roadblock in Voyager's attempt to adapt the slipstream drive for their own use.

A certain part of her was disconcerted by that, and she was busy trying to track down the reason for her sense of dismay when the door hissed open and Janeway entered. The captain regarded her closely as she approached the workstation, and, pausing on the other side of it, she placed her hands on the top of the console as she tilted her head slightly. Her eyes were soft and curious.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

Surprised, Seven glanced at her. "Nothing is wrong," she said. "Why would you ask?"

Janeway smiled faintly and lifted a long, elegant finger, touching the Borg on the bridge of her nose, between her brows. "Because whenever you're bothered by something, a little furrow appears right there, at the corner of your implant," she explained.

Seven exhaled slowly. "I do not know what is wrong," she admitted honestly. "I was reading some of the suggestions that Dr. Brahms' group proposed to address the integrity field problem."

"They don't make sense?" Janeway prodded lightly.

"They make perfect sense," Seven replied, out of sorts. "We should be able to apply them immediately to Voyager."

"Then, what's the problem?" the captain persisted.

Confused, Seven searched her feelings.

"I should have thought of them," she blurted. "They are so obvious." She paused. "Perhaps I am unable to utilize my intellect properly any longer. I must make an appointment to see the Doctor."

Janeway laughed and reached over, patting the Borg on the arm. "That isn't what this is about," she said.

"No?" Seven responded.

"No, it's about someone else coming up with the answers to your problem," the captain pointed out. "You think you should have been able to solve it all by yourself."

Seven stared at her. "Indeed," she said slowly, thinking about it. She didn't want to admit that Janeway might be right, but it did feel like a logical assessment. "Perhaps you are correct," she allowed with difficulty. She looked at her hands which were lying quiescent on the touch screen. "I have failed," she added simply.

Janeway immediately came around the console. "No," she said, slipping an arm around the Borg's waist. "Annika, don't forget, the Propulsion Group maintains a gigantic facility at Utopia Planitia, possessing some of the finest minds in the Federation, from all areas of expertise. These people have absolutely nothing else to do but tackle any starship problem that comes to their attention. In fact, every vessel that Starfleet possesses is required to go through their test facilities before being released to active duty. They have extraordinary amounts of resources and technology that we simply can't duplicate." She paused. "Look at it this way, darling," she added. "We probably know how Voyager works better than anyone else in Starfleet at the moment, simply because we've had to improvise so much out here."

"Correct," Seven said, wondering where the captain was going.

"If Voyager's nacelles were sheered off," Janeway insisted, "could you, Harry and B'Elanna come up with a way to rebuild the warp engines to propel the ship without them?"

Seven hesitated. "We would be able to make the attempt, but..." She trailed off, then glanced at Janeway. "But we would lack the necessary resources and technology to do so."

"Right, and that's established technology, Seven," Janeway said. "So you've hardly failed by not being able to create an entirely new propulsion system by melding warp and slipstream technology together from scratch. You're demanding too much of yourself."

Seven nodded. "I understand," she said.

Janeway studied her. "But you're still not happy," she guessed after a moment.

"I wanted to do this for you," Seven admitted softly. "It was to be my greatest gift ... a way to allow you to go home and see Gretchen and Phoebe again."

Janeway laughed. "Do you really think I'm going to be any less impressed with you and B'Elanna and Harry achieving a functional slipstream drive simply because you have input from Dr. Leah Brahms and her Propulsion Group?"

Put that way, Seven ducked her head, blushing. "No," she said, abashed.

"Pride can be a wonderful thing, my darling," Janeway added in a low voice, nuzzling the Borg's ear gently, "And you have much to be proud of with your intellect and ability, but don't let it overwhelm your common sense."

"No, Kathryn," Seven replied. She turned so she could wrap her arms around her spouse. It was not something she would normally do on duty, but they were still in Condition Blue, the lab was empty and it was unlikely anyone would pass by, particularly since most of the crew were still out on the planet's surface. "Sometimes I forget, however," she admitted. "Such as when I attempted to download all that information directly into my cranial processor."

Janeway kissed her sweetly. "Even when you do imprudent things like that," she said, "I know it's because you're doing it for Voyager ... and for me."

"Always," Seven agreed, kissing her back. She drew back after a moment. "Why did you come down here?"

"A chance to kiss you isn't reason enough?" Janeway teased gently, nipping at the tip of the Borg's nose.

"Not while we are on active status," Seven pointed out with a smile, leaning back to keep out of reach of the captain's teeth. "I know that we have been on duty since the communiqué was received at 0534, but it is not even 1130 hours yet."

"I know," Janeway said. "But I thought since we started our shift a bit early, we could take an extra long lunch. I think D'Vor can handle the bridge for a few hours."

"Indeed," Seven remarked, tilting her head slightly. "That is not what you thought yesterday." Now that she no longer was absorbed in her own concerns, the Borg was suddenly struck by the thought that Janeway was attempting to divert herself in some manner, though Seven wasn't sure why, exactly. She wondered if it had anything to do with the communiqué earlier.

"I changed my mind," Janeway said simply. She poked her partner gently in the ribs with her thumb. "I have a picnic basket waiting for us," she added persuasively.

Seven was intrigued. "In the park?" she asked.

Janeway shook her head as she took Seven's hand and led her to the door. "No," she said. "Not there." Her tone was such that Seven realized the captain wanted her to keep guessing, so she continued to speculate as to the probable location of their picnic lunch as they strolled for the turbolift.

"The room under the saucer?"

"It's somewhere new," Janeway told her.

"A holodeck setting?"

"An entirely new location altogether," the captain elaborated.

Seven thought furiously.

"Is it on the ship?"

"Yes, it's on the ship," the captain replied, a dimple appearing on her cheek.

The Borg immediately recognized that the dimple indicated there was some kind of twist involved, but all her guesses continued to be incorrect as they got off on deck three. At first, she suspected they were returning to their quarters, but then the captain drew her into the nearest airlock and Seven understood exactly what the 'twist' was. They cycled through and stepped out onto the expansive hull of the starship, its gleaming white surface stretching before them. Overhead, the sky was a bright azure and the sun radiated a pleasant warmth.

"Kathryn, this is ... very acceptable," she said as Janeway led her down to a recessed area on the upper part of the hull, just outside the windows of their quarters. A picnic blanket, checked in red and white, was laid out, while a large wicker basket anchored its middle.

"I'm glad you like it," Janeway said, obviously pleased as she sat cross-legged, leaning up against the hull where it rose toward the upper decks.

"I do," Seven admitted as she joined her. The air was fresh and warm, while the women were protected from the wind by the valley made by the curvature of this upper level of the ship. At this height, the view toward the mountains was spectacular, and the colors seemed more vibrant out here than when she had looked at the vista from inside their quarters. "This shall be a special memory triggered whenever I gaze out the viewports at this area of the ship."

"I like providing you with special memories," the captain smiled as she popped the cork of a bottle devoid of a label. Seven tilted her head curiously, observing the bluish tinged liquid which poured from it.

"I do not remember acquiring that particular wine," she noted, accepting the glass from her spouse.

"That's because you didn't," the captain responded. "This is from the 'still' in the biometrics lab. I had Neelix arrange to 'find' a bottle for me."

Seven considered that. She knew that most of the crew on the lower decks were of the fond belief that the captain was entirely oblivious of the beverage producing apparatus which had been constructed somewhat haphazardly in the lab. When she had initially asked about it, Samantha Wildman had explained that it was 'an experiment', and it was B'Elanna who later elaborated on the tradition behind such a thing to the Borg.

Obviously, Janeway was far from being as obtuse as some people wanted to think.

"Have you tried this before?" she asked, looking into the pastel depths.

"Oh, yes," Janeway said. "I think you'll enjoy it."

Seven did not mention that she already had imbibed an illicit glass with B'Elanna and that she had, indeed, enjoyed it. There was an odd little line that existed with her spouse when it came to her also being her captain, and sometimes the Borg did not always know where it was drawn. On occasion, it was best not to volunteer information unless it was asked for directly.

There was cole slaw in the basket, along with fried chicken, some mashed potatoes, gravy, and biscuits. Not what Seven considered the usual picnic fare, but the outside air seemed to stimulate their appetite and it didn't take long for the two women to polish off the bounty. After cleaning up, Seven lay on her back with her head in her partner's lap, looking at the fluffy white clouds passing overhead. Her early start on the day, as well as the large meal, served to make her feel sleepy, and she felt quite content as she felt Janeway's fingers stroke through her hair, loosening it from the restrictive confines of her bun.

"This is very pleasant," she murmured softly, looking up into the warm, blue eyes of her spouse.

"It is," Janeway noted, smiling gently. "I've said it before, and I probably will again, but we really need to do more of this."

"Yes," Seven agreed lazily. She squinted as she saw a cloud over the captain's head which bore a particularly striking resemblance to that of a dog. "Kathryn, did you ever seek shapes in clouds?"

Janeway looked up, smiling. "When I was younger," she said. "I haven't had much chance in the past few years."

"B'Elanna showed me how to do this when we first became friends," Seven explained. "It can be quite fascinating."

"It can be," Janeway agreed, her eyes growing dreamy as she followed her partner's gaze.

Seven wasn't sure when she fell asleep, her eyes closing of their own accord before she quite realized what was happening. She was awakened by the sensation of her spouse kissing her deeply.

"Mmph, Kathryn?" she muttered once her lips were released.

"Lunch time is over, love," the captain told her as she drew back. "You looked so peaceful sleeping there, but unfortunately, duty calls."

Seven was chagrined. "I am sorry, Kathryn," she said ruefully as she sat up. "I did not mean to sleep during our time together."

"You're still recovering from your week of double and triple shifts," Janeway said, smiling gently. "Believe me, darling, it was a very nice time for me, too. I love watching you like this ... you're so beautiful when you sleep."

Seven sat up. "I wished to speak with you about seeing Gretchen, however," Seven protested. "I know that it must have caused unsettled feelings within you. You must be very disturbed by it." Seven immediately cursed her clumsiness, particularly when she saw the reserved expression cross her partner's face.

"It wasn't that emotional, Seven," Janeway said, sounding vaguely annoyed at the Borg's assessment of her mental state. "Starfleet captains don't fall apart just because they've heard from their mommies."

Seven realized that her words had sounded presumptuous and slightly condescending, putting the captain on the defensive about her emotional stability in the wake of the communiqué from home. The young woman had meant to be far more subtle at drawing out her partner's feelings, and if she hadn't been so muddled from sleep, she wouldn't have blurted out her intentions so blatantly.

"I am sorry, Kathryn," Seven said. "I made assumptions I should not."

Janeway nodded, apparently appeased by that, but the Borg was still dissatisfied by the exchange, though she knew better than to show it. As they waited for the lock to cycle, she leaned over and kissed Janeway, lingering over her lips. "Thank you for the picnic, Kathryn," she said, changing the subject. "It was wonderful."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," the captain said, slipping an arm around the young woman's slender waist and hugging her gently. "What do you plan for this afternoon?"

"I believe I shall start on some of the modifications recommended by Dr. Brahms' Propulsion Group. If B'Elanna is so inclined, perhaps she would be willing to help."

"B'Elanna's been working the gamma shift in engineering while Ro covers the bridge," Janeway noted. "She may not be awake at the moment."

"In that case, I shall do what I can alone," Seven replied.

Janeway stopped her just before the inner door to the lock opened, resting her hand lightly on the Borg's forearm. "I love you, Seven of Mine," she murmured, looking up at her. "Keep that thought close to you while you're working."

"I promise, Kathryn," Seven responded, pleased by the sentiment, but realizing that the captain was attempting to divert the Borg's concern about any distressful emotional turmoil which might lay beneath the command mask.

As she watched the captain walk away, she was keenly aware of the greyish shadow she had glimpsed amid the blue of those eyes, and she regretted again that she had fallen asleep.

How soon would Kathryn allow herself to acknowledge what she was really feeling about having seen her mother again? Seven wondered. B'Elanna Torres discovered her roommate sitting at the table in their quarters, looking somewhat lost. A plate of hasperat sat untouched in front of Ro, while her eyes stared distantly at the wall in front of her. Moving slowly, B'Elanna slipped her arms carefully around the woman's torso from behind, hugging her gently.

"Tom Paris has been telling everyone that you talked to the Enterprise's Captain Jean-Luc Picard this morning," she said, not holding anything back. "That he asked for you specifically, in fact."

B'Elanna knew that, sometimes, one had to tease information out of a person, but with the former security officer, it was best to address any issue immediately, and if Ro had any intention of sharing, she would do so from that instigation. Otherwise, no amount of prying or enticement would get a word out of the reserved Bajoran.

"Yes," the Bajoran said quietly, reaching up to put her hand over B'Elanna's forearm, squeezing it gently. "I did speak with him."

"Want to talk about it?" B'Elanna asked softly, knowing how much of a sore spot Picard and the Enterprise had been to her partner.

Ro regarded her steadily as the Klingon took a seat beside her. "I don't know that there's anything to say," the Bajoran admitted. "We spoke, things were settled, it's over."

B'Elanna exhaled slowly. "But how do you feel?" she persisted.

"I'm not sure," Ro said. She grinned ruefully as she saw the expression cross the engineer's face. "Honestly, Lanna, I'm not trying to keep anything from you. It's just that I don't know what I feel ... or how I'm supposed to feel. It's ... odd. Like something I've been waiting for, for such a long time, but now that it's happened, it was ... very anticlimactic in a way."

"So what did he say?" B'Elanna continued, since Ro had not shut down or drawn away.

Ro frowned, apparently replaying the conversation in her head. "Nothing specific," she said. "Just that my Starfleet reinstatement is official and that if I wanted to, I could return to the Enterprise once we get back to the Alpha Quadrant." She paused. "But what I really think happened is that ... he let me know that he forgave me for letting him down all those years ago."

B'Elanna thought about that for a moment.

"Was it his place to forgive you?" she offered. "I mean, you did what you had to do all those years ago. I know you didn't like disappointing him, but it was your call."

Ro considered that. "I know," she said slowly. Her eyes were dark and uncertain as she picked up her fork and used it to push the hasperat around the plate. "But I still needed it ... I know that doesn't make sense...."

"Yes, it does," B'Elanna told her. She reached over and put her hand on Ro's wrist, encircling it with a gentle grip. "I just don't want you to feel bad about it."

"I don't," Ro responded. She smiled faintly as she looked up into B'Elanna's eyes. "I guess I need a little more time to figure it out in my own mind. In the meantime, I'm just 'brooding', you know."

"I know. You do it so very well," B'Elanna agreed, letting it go when she realized her lover was sincere in her lingering uncertainty. Pressing would not accomplish anything. She nodded at the plate. "That looks cold."

Ro released a short bark of laughter. "It probably is," she agreed. "I've been shoving it around since I got here. Gamma and alpha shift sort of melded together for a while when the communication came in." She shook her head. "What time is it?"

"1100 hours," B'Elanna said. "Working these kinds of shifts make it easy to lose track."

"Where were you?" Ro asked. "I thought you'd be here in bed by the time I got off duty."

"I worked overtime a bit," B'Elanna admitted. "There's this problem in the transition coil of the slipstream drive that we've been trying to pin down for months. I like working on it when there's nothing else to do. I guess I lost track of time." She nodded at the plate. "Want me to run that through again? I'll get something for myself. A hot meal sounds like a good idea right now."

"It does," Ro allowed, handing her the plate obediently.

B'Elanna carried the dish over to the replicator where she materialized a fresh batch of hasperat and some taco salad for herself. With the ship on the ground, power was plentiful for the replicators, and they didn't have to count rations while preparing meals. B'Elanna had taken the opportunity to program all the dishes she had enjoyed when she was younger, prepared for her by her paternal grandmother. They didn't quite taste the same, of course, but it had given her a sense of the past and of being home, not to mention allowing her to show an aspect of her Human side to Ro.

For some reason, it seemed a fitting way to help her adapt to living with someone now. She was conscious of the Bajoran's eyes following her as she completed her task, and felt the same mixture of warmth and disconcertion she always felt. She quirked an eyebrow at Ro as she carried the plates back to the table.

"What?" she asked lightly as she sat down.

Ro seemed vaguely startled, as if just then realizing that she had been staring. "Uh, nothing, I guess," the slender woman admitted. "I was just ... watching you and thinking how nice it is to be living together now."

B'Elanna smiled, poking at her salad. "May I tell you something?" she asked.

"Sure," Ro responded. "Always."

"I was surprised when you agreed we should move into double quarters together," the Klingon said. "Don't get me wrong, I was thrilled ... I was just a little surprised."

Ro chewed her hasperat thoughtfully. "I guess that's fair after all we've been through," she responded slowly. She paused, obviously thinking about it. "I wanted to move in with you, Lanna," she said finally. "I simply decided to take the plunge this time, rather than spend months trying to cover all the possible consequences and how I could arrange them so they would all turn out in the most positive manner. Sometimes I tie myself up so much that I lose track of what's really important. I didn't want to risk doing that with you."

B'Elanna's face felt warm and she knew she was blushing with pleasure. Honestly, it was as if she were a school girl or something, she thought with a certain amount of disdain at herself. But it didn't change the fact she was touched by the sentiment.

"I'm really glad you did," she said huskily.

Ro reached over and touched her hand.

"I am, too," she said simply.

B'Elanna offered her a grin, squeezing the fingers lightly.

They finished their meal, relaxing in each other's company. Then, as they lingered over dessert and coffee, the mood altered, becoming more intimate. They spent more time looking at each other and suggestively going through the motions of eating their mousse, rather than actually tasting the smooth, chocolate treat. Distracted, B'Elanna dripped some of the desert clumsily onto her wrist, and she felt her secondary heart quiver when Ro reached over and took the Klingon's hand, bringing it up to her mouth. In a most deliberate fashion, the Bajoran slowly licked away the long streak of dark sweetness, eyeing the other woman intently. Swallowing hard, B'Elanna lifted her head, inhaling deeply to draw in the bouquet of the dessert and the enticing fragrance of the Bajoran's own natural scent.

"Would you care to retire for an afternoon nap?" she asked politely, though a subtle growl rumbled up from her chest, lurking behind the even words.

Ro widened her eyes slightly. "Not if you intend to sleep," she murmured with a faint smile, entwining her fingers with the Klingon's.

"Oh, sleeping wasn't what I had in mind," B'Elanna responded honestly, rising to her feet as she returned the smile.

Leaving the living area, they moved into the bedroom. B'Elanna still delighted in having a room specifically intended for nothing more than sleep ... and other things. She turned to Ro as they stood next to the bed, looking up into her dark eyes. The Bajoran embraced her lightly, as if realizing B'Elanna wanted to slow the pace a little and was in full accord.

"You know I love you completely," the Klingon whispered.

"I know," Ro responded, nuzzling her neck and ear. "I love you, too, Lanna."

The engineer smiled and unfastened Ro's uniform tunic, pushing it off her shoulders, then tugged at the sweater. Meanwhile, the Bajoran was busily undressing B'Elanna between kisses and caresses, strong hands moving over the Klingon's body, setting her aflame.

"Laren," B'Elanna moaned as they sank to the bed, pressed together as Ro kissed her until she could barely think.

"Here, s'kwan," Ro whispered. "What do you need from me? Tell me."

"Just love me," B'Elanna responded, cupping the Bajoran's face in her hands and pulling it closer so she could return the deep, breathtaking kisses being offered her. "Forever."

"I do," Ro muttered as she nibbled a line down the Klingon's throat. "I will."

B'Elanna threw her head back, arching up into the tender caresses of the Bajoran's knowing hands, exalting in the pleasure her mouth was providing. Desire and anticipation made the Klingon's lips draw back from her teeth in a feral smile as the sensation of Ro's caresses stirred her in a way no other's touch ever had, and, she groaned loudly as she felt the gentle rake of teeth over the sensitive skin of her nipples, tangling her fingers in the shock of the other woman's dark hair. She held Ro's head to her, pressing eagerly against the insistent lips and tongue, twitching involuntarily at the tender nibbles at her breasts.

Brief nips reddened the Klingon's olive skin, marking the trail down to the juncture of her legs which she parted readily, allowing Ro to settle between them. The first delicate contact of Ro's mouth on B'Elanna's upper nodule, a teasing flick across the sensitive nub, inspired a brief outcry, then Ro was nuzzling along the muscle of B'Elanna's thigh, down to the inside of her knee before reversing the tantalizing journey, kissing the bottom ridge in passing, then down the other thigh.

Wanting to scream, wanting to howl at the top of her lungs, B'Elanna tried to restrain herself, aware that the deck where their new quarters were located contained far more senior staff members than deck nine had. She stuffed her fist in her mouth, biting down on it as she felt Ro settle between her legs once more, making lazy figure eights around the Klingon's dual clitori with an avid tongue. The pleasure seemed to rise in waves, each one lifting B'Elanna higher and higher with every subtle application of pressure by the Bajoran.

The engineer was decidedly not pleased when the hail came over her comm badge.

"Seven of Nine to Lt. Torres."

Surprised, Ro's head popped up from her task, looking at B'Elanna with a mixture of exasperation and amusement.

"You didn't privacy seal your communicator when you went off duty?"

B'Elanna flushed. "I forgot," she admitted sheepishly.

"Are you going to answer it?"

"I'd better," the Klingon said, a trifle apologetic. "She might become concerned when I don't answer and contact security or something."

"Seven to Torres. B'Elanna?"

B'Elanna swallowed hard. "Torres here, Seven," she muttered.

"Lieutenant, I have acquired new specs for the slipstream drive," Seven explained. "I require your assistance."

Deliberately, Ro moved her fingers, rubbing over the dual clitori and sending ripples of intense pleasure through the Klingon.

"God, I can't right now, Seven," B'Elanna gasped, stifling her groan. "I'm ... really, really busy."

There was a pause. "My apologies," Seven said with a distinct note of embarrassment in her voice. "You are copulating." The channel was abruptly cut and the two women stared at each other.

"Do I even want to guess how Seven's learned to recognize your voice in the throes of passion?" Ro asked silkily.

B'Elanna blushed. "It was probably when the captain was in my body," she guessed. She hesitated as she realized what she said, breathing heavily. "Damn, that must mean they ... you know."

"On the other hand, everyone on deck nine became familiar with your voice in the throes of passion," Ro reminded her. She moved her fingers again, making the Klingon gasp even louder. "I was just teasing, Lanna. It doesn't matter. Concentrate on me and us, right now."

"I'm concentrating," B'Elanna hissed, moving her hips against the maddening touch. "I'm concentrating so hard..."

Ro laughed huskily and dipped her head, rasping her tongue lovingly over the firm little nodules once more, driving the Klingon almost insane. B'Elanna discovered that rather than diverting her passion, the interruption had actually enhanced her desire. She didn't think she should share that particular thought with her lover, however, not knowing how sensitive Ro would be if she were informed of it. B'Elanna had no romantic interest in the Borg, of course, but still, the fact that Seven was now aware that B'Elanna and Ro were, at this very minute, making love, strangely excited her.

B'Elanna quite lost track of her senses as pleasure, deep and overpowering, rushed through her in a wave, and she could do nothing but spasm and cry out as loudly as she was capable. It took a few moments before she came back to herself, before she was able to once again pay attention to her lover rather than the physical reactions the Bajoran was initiating. She reached down and pulled Ro up to her, kissing her deeply, tasting her own essence on her lover's lips without reservation.

Ro settled her weight onto the Klingon, B'Elanna's thigh coming up between her legs to press against the wetness there. B'Elanna wormed her hands between their bodies, covering the small breasts, her fingertips stroking the ridges that radiated from the nipples which were actually more sensitive than the nipples themselves. The smooth skin of her thigh skidded along the four f'lar ridges which were the Bajoran woman's center of pleasure, and Ro gasped and moaned, rocking against the Klingon strongly, as B'Elanna continued to fondle her breasts.

As her pleasure grew, Ro lifted her torso, throwing her head back, crying out as she thrust rhythmically over the engineer. B'Elanna was mesmerized by the sheer pleasure in the Bajoran's face, the wanton expression seeming to alter Ro's features. The Klingon was warmed by it, almost as if she were near the comforting heat of a flame, and she continued her caresses until, with a final, convulsive spasm, Ro climaxed, collapsing helplessly against B'Elanna who embraced her tightly.

Murmuring words that didn't necessarily need to make particular sense, B'Elanna stroked the dark hair. Ro uttered a low, husky laugh, kissing along the Klingon's throat, biting gently at the pulse point there.

"You are .... incredible," she whispered.

B'Elanna growled in pleasure. "So are you," she responded. She kissed the Bajoran deeply, but tenderly. "So what does that mean?"

"What?"

"S'kwan," B'Elanna said.

Ro purred. "It's Bajoran," she explained. "It means the same as bangwI' ... or very close, in any event."

"Oh," B'Elanna said, rather pleased. "I like it."

"I'm glad," Ro said, reaching up to kiss her deeply, her hands starting to move over the Klingon again. "Because that's what you are to me, Lanna."

"Less telling," B'Elanna requested politely. "More showing."

The Bajoran laughed again, and promptly proceeded to do so. Janeway came home to empty quarters and realized that Seven had yet to return from her duty shift. Unfortunately, Jake was spending a few days on the outside with the Wildmans, leaving the captain without anything to concentrate on other than the thoughts she had been steadfastly ignoring for most of the day. Sighing wearily, Janeway changed out of her uniform and pulled on a t-shirt and dark trousers before returning to the living area. A glass of wine and a book accompanied her to the chair where she sat down, but her attention kept wandering away from the words she was reading. Instead, her eyes kept drifting over to the windows lining the bulkhead, looking out at the setting sun streaking the alien horizon a gentle lavender. Her  face grew somber as she thought about seeing her mother earlier the day.

Gretchen had changed considerably in the six years Kathryn had been gone. Or had she changed long before that and Janeway simply hadn't noticed, caught up in her life of being a Starfleet captain accepting her first starship command? She didn't remember her mother looking so tired or that thin before ... not even when her father had died. She regretted not having found more to say. Yet, even now, there was little that she would have wanted to say to Gretchen in the presence of others.

But it could be years before the captain would get the chance to speak privately with her parent, and Janeway felt her heart ache, feeling so far away from home on this planet which didn't even have a name. Exhausted by the constant reality of a seemingly endless journey, she closed her eyes, bowing her head. She realized she would not want to change much of what had happened, of course, since she had found Seven on this quest, but at the moment, she would give almost anything to be on the front porch of that farmhouse in Indiana. She could easily imagine holding Seven's hand as they looked over the rolling hills of corn while the sky turned orange and red in a familiar Earth sunset.

The door hissed open, but Janeway did not look around, knowing just from the presence that it was her spouse. Seven did not speak, seeming to understand immediately that Janeway was in a somewhat tenuous state at the moment. Instead, the Borg moved quietly into the bedroom where she changed, the captain listening to the familiar domestic sounds, trying hard to find serenity in them as she had so many times before. The sense of home eluded her, however, and by the time Seven had returned, dressed in a t-shirt and drawstring pants, the captain felt tears stinging her eyes and her chest was so full, it was almost beyond bearing.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," she whispered as Seven wrapped her up in a warm embrace, fitting herself into the chair with her spouse.

"You are always more emotionally fragile the day after you are most amorous," Seven noted quietly. The Borg gently kissed the captain's temple. "Not to mention the fact that this morning, you saw your mother alive and well and mere words away for the first time in several years. Not a letter, or a log or an image, but your mother, speaking directly to you."

Janeway swallowed hard. "I miss her, Annika," she whispered. "I miss Phoebe, I miss Earth ... I miss being home so much."

"I know, Kathryn," Seven said softly. "You always do. This morning merely brought it into focus, though you have been trying to hide it from me all day. Perhaps you were even attempting to hide it from yourself."

Janeway exhaled audibly. "Damn," she said. She tucked her head into the warm hollow of her partner's neck and shoulder, cradled in the Borg's strong arms, allowing the embrace to comfort and protect her as she allowed herself to acknowledge her homesickness.

Seven didn't speak, simply held her as they sat together in the chair, the illumination gradually growing dimmer as night fell upon this world where Voyager had found temporary refuge. As always, Janeway felt her partner's presence start to heal her, felt the ragged edges of her soul begin to knit themselves back together. It used to take days to achieve any kind of balance once she had lost it. Now, after more than a year of marriage, it only took hours, and with Seven right beside her, she realized she was addressing what bothered her almost immediately, rather than tucking it away and letting it fester until she plunged into a swirling morass of depression. Seven made the captain deal with things when they happened, because she had discovered that if she didn't, her Borg would keep after her persistently until she did.

She snuggled closer. "Thank you for this," she whispered.

"I should not have fallen asleep at lunch," Seven remarked. "We could have addressed it then."

"No," Janeway noted honestly. "I wasn't ready to talk at lunch."

Seven considered that. "Very well," she allowed, though her tone indicated that she didn't entirely agree. She rubbed the small of Janeway's back lightly with her right hand. "Are you feeling better now, Kathryn?"

"A little," Janeway admitted. She nestled her head against the young woman's shoulder, resting her hand on the upper part of Seven's chest. The warmth of the Borg's body penetrated the thin material of the t-shirt beneath her palm, along with the slow, steady throb of the young woman's heart. "Darling, it's not easy for me to let go like this."

"I know," Seven said, a hint of dry humor coloring her tone. "Of all the people on this vessel, I know."

"It's been a tough few months," Janeway added softly. "Not necessarily all bad, but certainly very emotional for us."

"Yes," Seven agreed evenly.

"Hearing from Mom was incredibly wonderful, but in some ways, it hasn't made it any easier for me. It's actually harder on another level."

"Perhaps," Seven allowed. "Yet, for many years, Gretchen believed that Voyager had been lost forever, possibly destroyed, and that you were dead. Imagine if she still thought that, what it would be like if you were still out of touch with the Federation."

Janeway considered that. "I'm being selfish," she said shamefully. "There was a time when being able to hear from Starfleet would have been all that I could have ever wanted. Now that I have it, I resent not being closer to home."

"In truth, the large distance Voyager has traversed in only six years is astonishing," Seven reminded her. "The modifications the Propulsion Group has provided bring us ever closer to a true installation of the slipstream drive. Honestly, Kathryn, it is merely a matter of time."

"But sometimes that 'time' can seem like an eternity, Annika," Janeway whispered.

"Because accomplishing it is always your responsibility," Seven said sadly. She hugged her partner tighter. "I cannot lessen that burden for you, Kathryn. All I can do is lend you support whenever I can."

"It means a lot to me, darling," Janeway said. "Don't ever think differently."

"Nonetheless, it is not always enough."

Janeway hesitated. "No," she allowed softly. "Sometimes it isn't." She raised her face, pressing her lips against the Borg's throat. "In that event, I just have to work it out myself ... and you have to give me the space to do it."

"I understand," Seven said. She paused. "Do you need space now, Kathryn?"

Janeway sighed softly. "No," she said, snuggling closer. "Right now, I need you to hold me as tightly as you can and not let go."

"I will not let go," Seven promised.

Janeway closed her eyes and slipped her arms around Seven's waist, hugging the slender body to her as she half turned in the chair. It was not the most comfortable piece of furniture for them to be cuddling, but the joy of being with her partner was worth far more than any minor discomfort. She felt the Borg's lips move over her brow in soft increments, the strength of Seven's love surrounding her utterly, and she forced herself to let go of her anguish at being so far from home. After all, home was where the heart was, and there was no question in her mind where her heart really belonged, or to whom.

The room was quite dark by the time Janeway felt like stirring from the cocoon of the Borg's warm embrace. She lifted her head from Seven's chest, brushing her nose along the line of the young woman's jaw.

"Annika?"

"I believed you had fallen asleep," Seven said.

"No," Janeway admitted. "Just thinking." She wiggled a little in the chair, stretching out some kinks. "Computer, raise lights to full." She blinked as the illumination came on.

"Are you hungry?" the Borg asked as she studied her partner intently.

Janeway managed a smile. "A little," she admitted. "But Annika, food is not always the answer when a person is unhappy."

"I am aware of that, Kathryn," Seven noted reasonably. "But you still need to consume nutrition in order to function. In your case, not wanting a meal is very much a sign that you remain unhappy."

"You're going to make me eat dinner, aren't you?"

"Kathryn, if you are already hungry, then it is illogical not to have dinner," Seven pointed out as she uncoiled from the chair, disengaging from the captain with great care. "Now, what would you prefer to eat?"

Despite herself, Janeway's lips quirked, but before she could say anything, Seven exhaled audibly in exasperation, giving every indication of rolling her eyes without actually doing it as she moved over to the kitchenette.

"I can't help it," Janeway protested mildly as the Borg glanced back at her. "I'm incorrigible."

"Yes," Seven said sternly. "You are."

Janeway regarded her fondly. "Can I help it if I find you the most enticing, attractive person in the universe?" she asked innocently. "That the very sight of you is usually enough to make my breath catch, my pulse race, and my loins throb?"

"Your 'loins'?" Seven repeated with such skepticism that the captain laughed.

"All right," Janeway allowed. "Bad turn of phrase."

"You 'throb'?" Seven persisted.

Janeway's eyes widened. "I throb," she assured her sincerely. "All the time."

Seven stared at her a moment, then shook her head. "Too many 'bodice rippers'," she determined quietly as she began to assemble a variety of ingredients for a meal.

Janeway wondered if she should be offended by that assessment yet, could not deny the accuracy of the conclusion. She also decided that the Borg wasn't going to wait for the captain to figure out what she wanted for dinner, but rather, simply intended to make a meal and Janeway was expected to eat whatever she created. It was probably a good idea. Janeway was fond of all of Seven's recipes, and whatever the Borg ended up making, chances were, the captain would probably appreciate it.

She settled back in her chair, watching her spouse work with quiet enjoyment. The sense of uncertainty and unhappiness that her thoughts had inspired throughout the day had drained away under Seven's devoted attention, and she felt as if she were once more on an even keel. Now she could take the time to enjoy the domestic bliss they had developed on this vessel, and appreciate that, while it might not be Earth, it was truly a refuge for her if only she would accept it.

"What are you making?" she asked softly.

Seven glanced up, smiling faintly. "Stir-fry vegetables over noodles," she responded. "I think a light meal is best tonight."

Janeway considered that, returning the smile slowly as she realized why Seven might have made that decision. She suspected that perhaps she was not the only one who 'throbbed' on occasion, and part of Seven's method of seeing the captain through a difficult period usually included some long, lazy, lovemaking in the aftermath.

Tingling at the prospect, Janeway discovered that she was examining Seven with a less than objective eye, caught up in studying how her spouse moved as she worked behind the counter. For whatever reason, Seven's curves simply did not 'jiggle' when she was wearing one of her biomesh outfits, the garments so severe in their cut that the young woman's body actually had no room to flow naturally. Instead, it was constrained in almost a caricature of a perfect Human female, a fantasy sculpture in some ways, rather than the living, breathing being, with thoughts and fears and hopes and dreams, that Seven truly was. The captain supposed it was not surprising that most of the crew had a perception of aloofness and reserve when dealing with Seven on a daily basis, that they considered her cold and unfeeling in some ways. They never got to see Annika as Janeway did, here in the privacy of their home, rarely got to witness the vulnerable and caring person that lurked beneath that beautiful, but sterile demeanor the biomesh outfits displayed.

Janeway much preferred her partner in the more casual clothes she had on now, when she was Human rather than a symbol of applied Borg perfection. Not only did the hidden attributes beneath the t-shirt's thin material mesmerize the captain, but the play of elegant muscles in the bared arms and shoulders as Seven worked, the way her blonde hair framed her narrow features and cascaded down her back, her pale eyes the gentle blue of sea and sky, provided a much different vision of the young woman. Seven appeared much younger like this, her icy deportment and stern reserve removed whenever she was in her own quarters and performing these domestic tasks. The movements of her hands were precise, yet delicate, slicing the vegetables and tossing them into the wok in a graceful pattern which flowed through the air like a summer breeze. Even the Borg implants seemed less intrusive and harsh in this situation, the starburst imbedded in her arm flexing in tandem with her bicep, the silvery mesh of her hand part of who she was, and not a stark reminder of the young woman's life as a drone.

"You are staring, Kathryn," Seven noted without looking up from her food preparation.

"You're too exquisite not to," Janeway replied honestly. "You are the vision that artists strive to capture in their creations and never quite manage."

Seven's full lips curved in a brief smile at the compliment and she glanced up, favoring her partner with an indulgent expression. "Set the table," she instructed dryly.

Janeway laughed and pulled herself out of the chair, forced back to reality by her spouse's pointed reminder that the captain had her own domestic responsibilities and no matter how romantically poetic she got, they still needed to be accomplished. Carrying her wine to the table, Janeway left it there as she gathered up the necessary dishes, utensils and condiments they needed for their meal.

There would be plenty of time to surrender to the intoxicating lure of her partner ... after dinner. Tuvok raised an eyebrow as he regarded the class which had been gathered together for their final examination. The lab-turned-classroom on deck two was quiet, each student caught up in his or her own individual struggle with the challenge posed to them. Not everyone who had attended the varied Voyager courses was present, of course. B'Elanna Torres, who had attended the classes only sporadically, had no need to be so formal in her application to Starfleet. The chief engineer had been accepted and had studied at the Academy itself, and her accorded provisional officer status could easily be switched to a full commission with only a limited amount of paperwork. Other people, who had simply wished to fill time with the educational opportunity provided, did not want to be in a real Starfleet uniform when the courses were all over.

These particular students, however, either members of the Maquis or had arrived on Voyager from the Delta Quadrant, were united in wanting a life in Starfleet once they returned to the Alpha Quadrant. They had no previous formal Starfleet training at all, hosting a variety of backgrounds: from backwater colonies in what had been the Cardassian Demilitarized Zone to a trader from Talaxis to being a drone in the Borg Collective. Nor had it been easy for Voyager's instructors to come up with a proper series of courses for these students, being very careful in how they proceeded in their teaching and now, in coming up with a final, ultimate challenge to finish it off.

Tuvok, Chakotay and the Doctor were aware that they couldn't utilize the traditional Academy final examinations. At the end of four years, Starfleet Academy was more interested in finding out a cadet's ability to work in a crew setting, either in a leadership role, or just as part of a team, than they were in their intellectual attributes. They needed to know if the cadets could continue to function under fire, if their skills would hold true to the difficult life and death situations people in Starfleet faced as a part of their job. Academy exams were primarily live action scenarios which occurred in designated park areas or holodeck simulations, testing the students to the limit. Some even got to serve their final year on actual starships and space stations.

This group of students, however, had been operating for the past six years as a very real part of a completely integrated starship crew ... except for Seven, who had been doing it for three ... and any tests to determine their fitness in that capacity would be superfluous at this point. Any individual who was incapable of operating as a fully functional member of Voyager's crew would have been weeded out long ago, either by being channeled away from any crucial duties, or even by being killed in action. These people had already been through countless life and death struggles that would have confounded the average Starfleet cadet, and at this point, they were perfectly capable of giving any such tests rather than being expected to take them.

That left only the intellectual portion of the testing phase, the dry, old-fashioned, question-and-answer exams which could be administered in the classroom. It had to be discovered how much basic knowledge they retained from their courses on Starfleet regulations, Federation law, and historical information. There were also the more esoteric problems posed to them in which they were asked to apply what they had learned in the Ethics and Philosophy classes. Those last were more subjective, much harder to answer, and correspondingly harder for the instructors to grade.

Tuvok was satisfied that the students were addressing this situation with the utmost seriousness. The Talaxian, Neelix, was actually sweating a bit as he hunched over his test padd, entering the answers with a stylus, his spotted forehead gleaming in the subdued lighting. Tabor and Ayala frowned mightily at their padds while Ensign White looked off into space in a daze as she contemplated her answers. Seven of Nine, sitting by herself in the corner, was completely composed, entering data into the padd with little hesitation or sign of internal debate, but even she had a minor furrow between her brow which indicated her intense focus on her task.

Tuvok knew that the young woman would probably pass the memorization portion of her exam perfectly. Her eidetic memory would call up the correct answers to the historical and legal questions with little effort. Her real testing challenge would come in the ethical and philosophical portion of the exam. How would Seven, only now slowly reclaiming her Humanity, apply what had been discussed in classes and her own set of value judgments to the difficult questions posed in the essay portion of the exam? More importantly, how would Tuvok, Chakotay and the Doctor adjudicate how her answers determined her fitness to be a Starfleet officer?

Perhaps they should have Sek sit in on the final marking procedures, Tuvok mused. The hologram's calm reason, as well as her experience in psychology as the ship's counselor, could make it easier for them to decide which students would benefit most by being offered actual Starfleet commissions. Tuvok was also conscious of the fact that they needed to show Voyager's requirements had been as stringent as they could make them so that any Starfleet board would uphold such commissions once they returned to the Federation.

Tuvok saw a shadow pass by the high windows which lined the bulkhead separating the classroom from the corridor outside. Intrigued, he stood up from the desk at the front of the room and quietly made his way out the door, his exit not disturbing the intense concentration of the students at all.

Outside, he discovered Captain Janeway unobtrusively observing the interior of the lab, her left hand resting on the lip of the sill, her eyes keen as she peered through the transparency.

"Captain?" Tuvok offered.

"How are things going?" she asked quietly.

The Vulcan, as always, considered the question carefully, determining if there was any hidden meaning behind it that only his long time experience of being this woman's friend could reveal.

"None of the students appear to be in particular difficulty," he responded finally. "If, however, you wish me to speculate on the possible outcomes that this final exam would determine, I would rather not indulge in such at this time."

"Chakotay thinks they'll all pass with flying colors," Janeway said, her eyes resting on the form of her partner.

Tuvok followed her gaze and raised an eyebrow. "That is possible," he allowed. "However, the Commander may be prematurely optimistic. Every exam was tailored specifically to confront any perceived weakness in each individual student. In Neelix's case, his exam poses large sections regarding Federation law and proper Starfleet protocol. The largest section in Lt. Ayala's exam contains questions on Federation history and its sociological repercussions upon today's civilization."

Janeway lifted her head slightly. "And Seven?"

Tuvok regarded the captain steadily. "The largest section in her exam is composed of questions surrounding the ethical, moral and philosophical areas that a Starfleet officer must deal with," he explained.

There was a slow inhalation, a slight wince from the captain. "I have to say, Tuvok, you're certainly not making this easy for them," she allowed.

"Was that not your instructions, Captain?" he asked blandly. "To provide courses which would prove as correspondingly difficult as the fourth year of Starfleet Academy?"

"It was," Janeway agreed. "I just ... I don't want there to be any questions about their suitability to wear the uniform after it's over ... not by Starfleet, not by anyone in this crew."

"I assure you, Captain," Tuvok said. "It is entirely possible that our tests are more stringent than the Academy's."

"When will they be finished?" Janeway asked.

"A student may leave at any time they feel they have completed the examination," Tuvok explained. "However, they must turn in their padds by 1600 hours this afternoon."

"When will you know how they did?"

"Assuming Commander Chakotay returns when planned, we intend to have every student's evaluation complete by the end of the scheduled shore leave," he said. He paused. "I also intend to ask Sek to assist us in going over the proceedings."

"That's a good idea," Janeway said approvingly. She took a final look at her spouse, then nodded briefly at Tuvok. "Keep me informed."

"Yes, Captain," he responded obediently, looking after her as she strolled away. He wondered if Janeway was concerned about Seven's potential to pass her exam because she had a concrete reason to be, or because she was merely indulging in irrational worries about a loved one where she had no control over the final outcome.

The latter, he decided, and returned to the classroom, suspecting the next few days would be more nerve-racking for the captain than they would be for Seven. Commander Chakotay dumped his knapsack on the floor of his quarters and peeled off his pungent and well-worn clothes as he headed for the shower. His leave had been everything he could have hoped for, providing a renewal of spirit and enthusiasm for life, inspired not only by the chance to interact with nature again, but by his newfound connection with Icheb. By now he considered the boy to truly be his son in spirit, if not in fact, and he looked forward to discovering a future which held a definite purpose.

He glanced at his face in the mirror over the sink, grinning at the beard which feathered over his jaw after two weeks of no daily suppressant. He stroked it thoughtfully with his thumb and forefinger, wondering if he should maintain it, then decided it was too scraggly to look particularly attractive. He took the suppressant into the shower with him, utilizing it to remove the growth, before scrubbing away the grime of being out in the bush for two weeks. Dips in the cold river had simply not achieved the same effect as hot water supplemented by a sonic burst or two.

Clad in his uniform, he took a last check in the mirror to make sure he once more looked like a presentable representation of Voyager's first officer, then left his quarters. The captain looked at him in vague surprise as he entered the bridge.

"Chakotay," she said. "I thought you wouldn't be back for a few more days."

"I decided I needed to get a jump on the student evaluations waiting for me," he told her. He shot a quick glance over at Ensign D'Vor who was covering the tactical station. It was rare that such a low-ranking security officer would have the opportunity to serve on the bridge, and it was a good idea to give him some experience when they could. Impressed that the captain had made the effort without prompting from him, Chakotay had to remind himself that Janeway too, had served as a first officer a few times.

She rose from her chair, motioning him to the ready room. He followed her in, smiling briefly as D'Vor smoothly descended to the command level, as if this had become common place for him during the past two weeks.

"Did you enjoy your leave?" she asked curiously as she moved to the upper level and turned around.

Chakotay accepted the cup of tea she offered, sipping it as he took a seat in the chair. "It was all I could have asked for," he admitted. "I'd forgotten how much I missed the forest. Space will probably always be my first love, but I need to get back to basics every so often. A holodeck just doesn't accomplish the same thing, and this planet's version of the salmon Icheb and I were hauling out of that river would just about knock you over."

"It sounds wonderful," she agreed, studying him closely as she drank her coffee. She smiled as she realized he had noticed her scrutiny. "I will say, you're looking a great deal better."

"I feel better," he said. "It had gotten a little ... heavy there for a while."

"Yes, it has a way of doing that," the captain agreed. "It creeps up until you're barely able to stand, and you wonder why it took so long to notice the weight."

"Anyway," he said, introducing the subject carefully. "I'm back now, and there's still five days left of shore leave." He paused. "Why don't you and Seven take advantage?" he added delicately. "I can give you the exact coordinates of the place where Icheb and I stayed. It's hundreds of kilometers away from anyone else, and while you'd require equipment to spend some days in the bush, the campsite is already cleared and secure." He suspected it would be a tough sell, well aware of Janeway's lack of enthusiasm when it came to dealing with the untamed wilderness, or even in giving up her command when it wasn't absolutely necessary.

There was a silence as Janeway finished her coffee, tipping it up to drain the last drops. He was surprised when she raised an elegant finger.

"You think I'm going to argue with you about this, don't you?" she asked.

Startled, he looked at her. "Uh, yes, I suppose I do," he admitted. "I have my arguments all marshaled."

She flashed him a smile. "Well, save them for when you really need them," she said as she moved over to the replicator and materialized a sheet of paper and a thick tipped pen. She scratched some words on the paper and Chakotay started to grin as he read them. "I've always wanted to do this," she added as she carried the paper, along with some fastening compound to the lower level.

Shaking his head in a mixture of astonishment and amusement, he followed her out of the ready room and watched as she tacked the paper to the outside of the door. Then she shot a look at him, impish and entirely unlike any expression he had ever seen before.

"I'm off to find Seven," she said. "The ship is yours, Commander."

"Enjoy yourself," he said, watching as she strolled briskly for the turbolift. She offered a wave of her hand in farewell and then the doors closed, shutting her off from view. Chakotay found his gaze intersected with Ensign D'Vor, the young man looking quite confused.

"Question, Ensign?" he invited.

"What does that mean?" the security officer asked, gesturing at the paper on the door.

Chakotay felt a chuckle rumble up from his chest.

"An age-old tradition," he said. "I'm just glad the captain is indulging in it."

He saw that didn't really answer the young man's question but then, some things didn't really require explanation. You either understood, or you didn't. He moved over to the lower command level and took a seat in the command chair, prepared to finish out the rest of the alpha shift.

But every so often, his eyes would stray over to the sign displayed proudly on the door to the captain's ready room and he would chuckle again at the words stroked in big letters over the page:

GONE FISHING !Seven of Nine felt the rough bark of the log against the small of her back, shadows dancing around her from the small fire which crackled cheerfully in the circle of rocks. Above, she could hear the whisper of the night wind caress the tree tops silhouetted against a sky full of stars, their light shining down with the distorted twinkle a planetary atmosphere provided. The air was cool but pleasant, heavy with the scent of ferns and moss and growing things while nearby, the creek offered a soothing rush of water over pebbles.

Snuggled against the Borg's side, her head nestled on her shoulder, Janeway watched the flickering flames with half-closed eyes, looking for all the world like a satisfied cat. Of course, considering the size of the fish the two women had consumed for dinner, anyone would have an expression of repletion on their face. Seven smiled and tightened her arms around her spouse's body, feeling content, and much happier than she had in quite some time.

"I am glad we were able to avail ourselves of some leave," she said softly, hesitant about disturbing the peacefulness.

Janeway's chuckle was a husky trill which rasped pleasantly in Seven's ears. "I am, too, love," she murmured. "It's just what we needed."

"It is," Seven agreed. She nuzzled the warm auburn hair. "I know you are not particularly fond of 'roughing it', Kathryn. Thank you for doing this."

"Well, I won't say that a luxurious seaside resort on Rissa isn't more to my taste," the captain said dryly, "but I've enjoyed myself. It's good to get away from everything for a few days ... even if I have to pee in the damn woods."

Seven made a soft sound of amusement, not quite a laugh, and kissed the captain's temple. "This reminds me of the world we were stranded on when the initial slipstream test flight failed."

"It is a lot like Safe Haven, isn't it," Janeway noted. "Parallel evolution. No matter how far we explore, the odd worlds aren't as different as the similar worlds are the same."

"If you believe in the Preserver theory of 'seeding' the planets in the universe, that would be expected," Seven noted. "Perhaps it was more than placing the genetic mapping of intelligent lifeforms on worlds. It is possible that they also directed the evolution of vegetation as well."

Janeway poked the Borg's stomach through her sweater. "We promised, no scientific discussion this weekend," she reminded her. "No ship's business, no crew gossip, nothing that would remind us that we have to return to Voyager tomorrow evening for the end-of-leave blowout."

"You are correct," Seven said. "I forgot."

"So much for an eidetic memory," Janeway teased.

Seven nipped the captain's earlobe, making her twitch, then resumed her gaze at the fire, smiling as Janeway settled closer to her. "Of course, that has left us only fishing, food and your complaints about the outdoors to discuss," she noted dryly.

"And lovemaking," Janeway pointed out.

"Ah, that is more a matter of participation than discussion," Seven said.

Janeway tipped her head back, nibbling along the line of the Borg's jaw. "Speaking of participation..." she offered invitingly.

Seven smiled. "Are you ready for bed, Kathryn?" she asked innocently.

"If my choice is being eaten by mosquitoes or being eaten by you, I know which one I choose," Janeway said dryly.

"Kathryn!"

Janeway laughed and rolled out of her partner's arms. Seven quirked an eyebrow as she watched her make her way to their habitat, then took the time to bank the fire for the night before following her. In the insulated dome, the captain had activated a small lamp and was busily peeling off her clothes. Seven secured the flap behind her and watched appreciatively as the compact body of her partner was gradually revealed to her. The flash of Janeway's eyes cast her way let Seven know her spouse was well aware of her scrutiny, and the Borg smiled faintly as the smaller woman became more exaggerated in her motion of removing the last of her garments.

"What are you waiting for?" Janeway asked, once she was snug between the padded blankets which had been thrown over the expandable mattress.

Belatedly, Seven removed her own outfit, putting the boots, trousers, sweater and vest neatly aside. Her away mission outfit was well suited for this form of recreation, and Janeway had followed her lead when they had prepared to beam to the location several hundred kilometers from the valley where Voyager had landed.

"Will we go canoeing tomorrow morning?" she asked as she crawled under the blankets next to her spouse. "You promised we would try it once before we leave."

The captain looked surprised that she had forgotten and took a moment to consider it carefully. "Actually, that's a good idea," she offered. "We can pack up everything else and beam it back to the ship. Then, we can take the canoe downstream, until we get tired, then beam it and us out from wherever that happens to be."

Seven wrapped her arms around Janeway and kissed her neck. "It will be enjoyable," she muttered, her hands starting to trace familiar patterns over her spouse.

"The canoe trip? Or what we're about to do now?" Janeway queried teasingly.

"Both," Seven responded firmly. She reached over and deactivated the lamp, then settled blissfully against her spouse. The sensation of warm curves and smooth flesh pressing against her felt unbelievably good, and she wallowed in it, finding her spouse's lips in the night and kissing her deeply. There was something to be said for what fresh air did for one's appetites, and she was more than eager to indulge this one.

Janeway moaned happily into Seven's mouth, slipping her arms around her neck as she kissed her back avidly. Her fingers tangled in the Borg's long, blonde hair, holding her head close, and Seven thought that this must be sheer perfection, this moment in time when everything in her universe narrowed to focus on this single woman in her arms.

She moved so that she was covering the smaller woman more, trying to put as much of her body in contact with Janeway's as possible. She gasped as the captain bent her knee, bringing up her thigh between Seven's legs to press sweetly against the juncture. The Borg undulated slightly, dragging her sensitive nub over the smooth skin, which increased her arousal, moaning softly as the cloying pleasure rippled through her. Janeway tightened her embrace, her hands moving restlessly over Seven's back, stroking her spine down to her buttocks, then moving over her hips and back up her ribs.

"Have I mentioned lately that I love you?" the captain murmured.

"Every day," Seven responded, inhaling deeply. "I shall never tire of hearing it, however."

"Good," Janeway whispered, then made a small sound of pleasure as Seven dipped her head to trace a line with her tongue, beginning at the captain's throat and down the plane of her chest. Burying her face in the warm valley between her partner's breasts, the Borg paused for a moment, simply delighting in being with her partner, of feeling loved and cherished and desired.

"You're not going to sleep on me, are you?" Janeway asked, with the faintest trace of alarm in her voice.

"That only happened once," Seven protested mildly, smiling as she raised her head to peer up at her partner in the darkness. A silvery illumination from the full moon above drifted lightly through the transparency at the top of the habitat and brushed the captain's face with a delicate touch. Seven's tone deepened. "In any event, I have much to do before I sleep this night."

"Yes, you do," Janeway agreed, relief evident in her eyes. She frowned as Seven continued to gaze at her, mesmerized by the sheer beauty of her beloved in the moonlight. "What?"

"You are incredibly beautiful," Seven told her gravely.

The captain's face darkened but she looked pleased, as well. "In your eyes, maybe," she said dismissively, then her gaze softened. "But then, that's the only place I need to be beautiful."

Seven eased up until she was above her again, looking down into the shadowy features. "My Kathryn," the Borg murmured, then kissed her deeply, lingering over her lips, inhaling the very breath from Janeway's lungs. "My beloved Kathryn."

Janeway made a soft gasp of agreement. "Yours."

Seven smiled and kissed her again, then again, drinking in her essence, the flavor of her partner's soul. It renewed and exhilarated her, left her weak from the intense emotion of it. She groaned as they rolled over, Janeway's lighter frame covering possessively, her weight a comfortable presence in the night as they made love with slow, aching joy.

"Kathryn," she whispered. "Oh, Kathryn."

"Annika," Janeway responded in kind. "My love, my heart, the unquestionable joy of my life."

Seven took note that her partner had curbed considerably her habit of profanity during intimacy. Instead, her comments had become quite lyrical, almost poetic and although the Borg knew that most of the content and style were undoubtedly springing from the 'romance' novels the captain read, she considered it a definite improvement ... particularly over the more vulgar of Janeway's past comments. It also made her realize how hard the captain attempted to make changes whenever Seven indicated she was dissatisfied with a particular trait or habit, just as the Borg had changed her own life considerably to accommodate her spouse.

An ongoing process, Seven decided. Eventually, there might even come a time when they were both exactly where they should be for a perfect union. On the other hand, that could be excruciatingly boring, so she made a note to develop new annoying traits if Janeway ever succeeded in convincing her to change all her old ones.

She cried out as Janeway found all those wonderfully sensitive spots that provided such deep and intense pleasure, even as her own hands stroked and touched and played the smaller woman like a fine instrument. It was rare when it occurred, but on this night, they were able to achieve their peak simultaneously, both pressing hotly into one another, both shivering and seeking hold of each other at the same time. For long moments afterward, they lay in each other's arms, trying to catch their respective breaths, their hearts pounding in synchronous rhythm. The wind whispered around the curve of the habitat and the silence of the forest was like a balm of peace on their souls.

"Mmm, darling," Janeway murmured finally, nestled in the young woman's arms. "That was amazing. Thank god for R&R."

Seven stroked the auburn hair lightly, her cheek resting warmly against the smooth forehead. "Do you believe in a deity, Kathryn?" she asked curiously. "You thank Her often. Or is it merely used for effect?"

Janeway seemed stymied for a moment. "I ... never really thought about it," she admitted. "So I guess I'd have to say it's used for effect."

"Ah," Seven said. She paused, thinking about it. "Regardless, do you believe in a higher power? An ultimate creator?"

Janeway snuggled closer. "I must say, darling, you pick the oddest times for a theological discussion," she said, patting Seven on the belly. "I guess I'd have to answer 'yes'. However, if you want me to be more specific, that would take quite a while, and I honestly have to say that now is not the time I would prefer to talk about it."

"Because we're naked?" Seven guessed. Janeway only became very logical like this when the topic and making love were somewhat at odds with each other.

Janeway chuckled. "Something like that," she said. "But mainly because any such conversation would benefit by having research material on hand. I don't think you'd be satisfied by the discussion otherwise. A lot of it deals with intangibles rather than scientific certainties."

"Very well," Seven said, satisfied with that.

"I do have one question," Janeway noted. "Why did you refer to a deity as 'Her'?"

Seven blinked. "Why would I not?" she responded blankly.

Janeway hesitated, then nodded. "Why not indeed," she said dryly. "Good point."

Seven, unaware that she had been making one, settled back against the mattress. Obviously her innocent question had far-reaching repercussions, and she made a mental note to bring it up again when they were less tired.

And less naked.

"Are you nervous about passing your Starfleet courses?" Janeway asked, changing the subject.

Seven shook her head. "In truth, I had not thought about it since we began our leave," she said. She tightened her embrace. "Should I be?"

Janeway chuckled ruefully. "I suppose not," she agreed. "But I know I was a mess after taking my finals at the Academy."

Seven considered it. "I see no reason to be concerned," she said. "Either my answers will be correct whereupon I shall be commissioned, or they will prove that I am unsuitable for Starfleet, in which case, nothing shall change."

"Sometimes, darling, you're too pragmatic, even for me," Janeway said dryly.

Seven smiled. "But that is why you love me," she said.

"One of the many, many reasons," Janeway responded, reaching up to kiss her gently. She settled back against her partner, yawning. "It's been a long day, love."

"I am weary as well," Seven noted. "We hiked a long way find the superior fishing spot that the Commander told us about." She paused and brushed her lips over the top of the captain's head. "Not to mention all our other activities."

"You like making love outdoors, don't you?" Janeway responded drowsily.

"I do," Seven remarked. Her mind drifted back to earlier that day when the couple had broke from their fishing for lunch, and ended up pleasuring each other on the grassy bank of the stream. "The water was very cold, however."

Janeway smiled sleepily. "Next time, we'll be more careful about where we roll over," she said. "At least, we didn't get our clothes wet." She sighed. "It's been a good leave, but we need to get a little sleep, darling, if you want to go canoeing tomorrow."

Seven nuzzled her. "Was I keeping you awake, Kathryn?" she asked.

"Only in the best way possible, Annika," Janeway said dryly. She sighed and tucked her head under her partner's chin, her breathing slowing as she surrendered to her weariness.

Holding her close, Seven smiled faintly and looked up through the transparency to the stars above. They beckoned, reminding her that many adventures lay ahead before she and her spouse would have another opportunity for leave.

In the meantime, however, she was content that this R&R was one which would stay with her forever.

Epilogue

The tall blonde regarded her reflection in the mirror over the sink counter, seemingly bemused by the way the black uniform with the blue band fell over her slender shoulders. Standing in the doorway of the ensuite, leaning against the frame, Janeway watched as, for the first time, Seven of Nine prepared for duty as a Starfleet lieutenant. The two pips, one gold and one black, glinted in the subdued light, and there was a vague frown on the Borg's face as she shifted uncomfortably.

Janeway was extremely conscious of how far both women had come from the incident in the brig where a bald and pale drone had glared so balefully at the captain, demanding she be returned to the Collective immediately. Who could have known that years later, they would end up here, at this moment, their lived entwined so inexorably that nothing could come between them? She sighed softly and tilted her head, regarding her partner with pleasure and not a little pride. The uniform lent Seven a dignity and authority that the captain decided the biomesh garment simply didn't ... though in her most secret of thoughts, Janeway did have to admit that she would miss the way Seven looked in those outfits whenever she walked away.

"It is inefficient," Seven noted doubtfully, looking it up and down. "My away mission uniform is more practical in certain situations. Meanwhile, my biomesh outfit is more functional while on board a ship, maintaining an even body temperature and allowing for complete freedom of movement, not to mention being more aesthetically pleasing. This is ... bland."

"No, it isn't," Janeway allowed dryly. "Particularly on you. Besides, what it says is far more important than how it looks."

"What does it say, Kathryn?" Seven asked curiously.

"That you are a member of something far greater than yourself, that your life can now find avenues to affect people and places for years afterward," the captain told her. "You are part of an organization whose ideals and goals are held up as the highest in our civilization."

"Ah, like the Collective," Seven said. She cast a glance Janeway's way and the captain realized that she had become just the trifle bit pompous in her speech. Seven's simple words deflated it with one deft needle that only came from being married a year or so.

"No, not like the Collective," Janeway said firmly. Seven smiled at her, and despite herself, the captain returned it. "What I mean," she added, "is that you look damned good in it and I look forward to taking it off of you this evening."

"Kathryn, I just put it on," Seven remarked dryly. "Isn't it a bit early to consider taking it off."

Janeway stared at her partner. "You're absolutely not going to let me win any this morning at all, are you?"

"Kathryn, I am now a Starfleet lieutenant," Seven told her. "I love and live and act as the Human I was born to be. I would say that you have already won the most important thing long ago."

Janeway quirked an eyebrow. "Which is?"

Seven glanced at her again. "My heart," she said simply, as if it should have been obvious. In retrospect, Janeway suspected that it should have been.

"Come here," she said huskily.

"Is that an order?"

"Yes," the captain replied. "Come here, Lt. Seven."

Seven hesitated, almost as if she was trying to determine if she liked this new status quo or not, then smiled ruefully as she obeyed, closing the distance between them so that she could wrap her arms around the captain. Janeway discovered that she did not have to order her to kiss her, which was good ... the captain appreciated initiative in the lower ranks.

"I am terribly proud of you," Janeway murmured once their lips had parted. "Chakotay tells me you aced your exam."

"I had you as my tutor," Seven reminded her. "Where else would I learn the ethics and morality governing a Starfleet officer?" She paused. "Even when you don't necessarily follow that code of conduct to the letter, yourself."

"Seven, it's not a good idea to point that out to a captain," Janeway told her primly.

"I will remember that," Seven replied and kissed her again.

Leaving Janeway to note that if Seven was ready for Starfleet, it didn't necessarily mean that Starfleet was ready for her.

The End

•  This is the 37th installment of the Just Between Series.

• Lots of technobabble in this one, and I want to thank Elisa and Marco for their help in figuring it out. Anything that might be improbable or incorrect (in Trek terms) is purely my error.

• This was posted on June 9th, 2000.

Just Between Senses
G. L. Dartt

She wasn't sure what had disturbed her.

Frowning, Captain Kathryn Janeway of USS Voyager looked up from her work, glancing around her ready room. Nothing seemed out of place in the captain's sanctuary with its decor of blues, greens and silvers, designed to soothe one's mood and provide a place for reflection. The compact woman inhaled slowly and leaned back in her chair, tilting her head slightly as she listened closely to the constant sounds which hummed beneath the surface; the warp engines maintaining a steady throb, the low level communications hum channeled through her console to keep her in contact with the rest of the ship, even the almost nonexistent hiss of the air filtration system.

Nothing unusual there, either. So why did she suddenly feel like something was wrong?

She stood up, leaving behind the departmental reports for the moment, moving to the upper level where she peered through the viewports which lined the bulkhead. The stars, distorted by the warp field, flashed by like signposts on this journey back to the Federation. Lost in the Delta Quadrant for the past six years, Janeway had been responsible for seeing her ship and her crew home, and in that time, she had become very good at trusting her instincts.

She tapped the gold comm badge affixed to the left breast of her red and black tunic, opening a channel to the bridge.

"Janeway to Chakotay."

"Chakotay here," came the response from her first officer.

"Report," she instructed. "What's our status?"

There was a pause ... surprise maybe?

"All systems are normal," he said, puzzlement evident in his tone. "We remain steady on course for the Alpha Quadrant."

She frowned. "Thank you," she said, and cut the channel.

Was it nerves? she wondered.

Though she had no idea what she had to be nervous about. Indeed, Voyager was in very good shape at the moment, with the crew fresh off a three week shore leave, while the ship itself was functioning perfectly. Five crewmembers had just accepted official Starfleet commissions while two others had swapped their provisional officer designation for full 'Fleet status. All those recent preparations, as well as the increased communication with Starfleet, made returning home seem more and more imminent.

Personally, the captain's marriage to the Borg astrometrics officer, Seven of Nine, had entered a fairly smooth stretch, certain conflicts having been laid to rest, while the burden of command which had lain so heavily on Janeway for so long grew lighter with each passing day.

So why did she feel like she was about ready to crawl out of her skin?

She picked up the silver thermos sitting silent sentinel on the coffee table and unscrewed the top. There was just enough  of its contents left to fill the white china cup, its rim banded by gold. She sipped her spouse's special brand of coffee, cherishing the steaming, rich brew, relishing its flavor and fragrance, but it did not calm her. The stimulation of the caffeine far outweighed the sense of comfort and domestic bliss Seven's blend normally generated within her.

She jumped like a cat when the door chime sounded, spilling some of the coffee onto her sleeve and over the coffee table. Biting off an oath, she grabbed a napkin and swiped at her uniform before mopping up the stain on the table.

"Come," she instructed.

The door hissed open to admit Lt. Ro Laren. The tall, slender Bajoran had recently been designated as the ship's 'rover', an officer who could expect to operate in any area of the vessel at any given time, from the bridge to deck fifteen, and perform any sort of duty required. The challenge of not knowing what she would be doing next seemed to suit the reserved, if volatile, woman, and as a result, she had appeared much happier to the captain lately ... though if one were to pin Janeway down on why she thought that, she doubted she could put her finger on what was the basis of that belief.

Dark of hair and eyes, an elegant ripple of bone at the bridge of her nose, the Bajoran was a very attractive woman, indeed. She moved with the delicate grace of a dancer, though the reason for her sense of controlled power was slightly more sinister than due to any interest in the arts. A graduate of Starfleet's Advanced Tactical Training, Ro Laren was absolutely deadly in a fight, something the captain appreciated, even as she hoped not to have to utilize that ability of the young woman.

"Is something wrong?" Janeway asked, the faintest hint of anxiousness coloring her tone.

Ro faltered, frowning. "No, Captain," she responded, looking at her oddly. "Should there be?"

Janeway blinked. "No," she said, forcing down her sense of disturbance. It was unusually strong, however, and she inhaled slowly. "I have this feeling ... I know that's hardly anything concrete..."

Ro looked vaguely surprised that the captain had shared that much, but she gave the statement a credence that she might not have granted anyone else.

"Is it very strong?" she asked.

Janeway saw instantly where she was going. "As the Terror was, generated by that entity we rescued?" she said. "No, this is just a sensation of things being ... I don't know ... 'off' somehow." She picked up her now cooled coffee. "Normally I wouldn't even mention it, but after that experience, I've learned to note anything 'different' as something to address."

Ro dipped her head in acknowledgment.

"I understand," she said. "But there have been no reports of anything untoward." She paused before adding in a serious tone, "However, I've learned not to take such things for granted, myself. Sometimes a person's more rarely used senses pick up certain, subtle signs that can disturb on a purely instinctual level." She shrugged. "On occasion, a person should listen to their instincts."

"Agreed," Janeway said. She swallowed the last of her lukewarm coffee and carried the cup over to the replicator to be cleaned. "However, that doesn't tell me what I should do about it," she added dryly.

Ro considered that. "When the captain is disturbed, so's the ship," she said knowingly. "You don't want to stir things up if you don't have to."

"Exactly," Janeway said. She glanced back at the Bajoran. "Just ... keep your eyes and ears open for the next little while."

"Aye, Captain," Ro said obediently. She passed over a padd. "My reason for stopping by," she explained. "The biometrics assessment."

"Thank you," Janeway said, scanning the information briefly. In previous times, these departmental assessments would have been Chakotay's responsibility, but Janeway had been concerned by how much he had been taking on lately, so part of Ro's tasks were involved with assisting him. If, by some wild coincidence, the Bajoran learned to appreciate the duties of a first officer to the extent that she might reconsider her previous decision not to pursue that career path ... well, Janeway couldn't help that.

"Very good," she complimented once she had finished. She glanced up at the Bajoran who was waiting patiently for her commanding officer's next orders. She retrieved a padd from the coffee table and handed it to the Bajoran. "I want you to take a look at our three 'lambs' next."

Ro quirked an eyebrow. "'Lambs'?" she repeated, looking at the data quizzically.

Janeway realized that she had never shared her parable of the 'good shepherd' who would track down and care for every lost sheep. "Mortimer Harren, Billy Telfer, and Tal Celes," she said, naming the officers that she recently discovered had 'slipped through the cracks' of Voyager's chain of command.  She had made a concentrated attempt at bringing them 'back into the fold' by taking them on a recent away mission, which unfortunately had resulted in all four of them nearly being killed, and garnering Janeway a rather stern lecture from her partner on the captain's incessant need to 'interfere in everyone's life'. Handing these 'problem officers' over to Ro would take them out of the captain's hands, get Seven off her back, and give the ship's rover a real challenge. "They require some extra attention from senior officers in order to improve their performance as members of Starfleet. Celes, in particular, would benefit by you providing some help to her. Seven is still somewhat ... limited when it comes to personnel interaction and motivation techniques. Besides, Celes is Bajoran."

"Ah, and that should make us like 'sisters'," Ro noted sardonically.

Janeway pinned her with a glance. "It should give you some common ground in which to start," she corrected silkily.

Ro started to reply, reconsidered it, and lowered her head. "Yes, Captain," she murmured.

Janeway smiled faintly. "I appreciate that this isn't what you would prefer to be doing, Ro," she said. "However, it is part and parcel of making a ship run smoothly."

"I realize that," Ro responded politely. She paused. "Not that I wish ever to have to run a starship, smoothly or otherwise."

"I realize that," Janeway countered evenly, being just as pointed in her reminder as Ro had been with hers.

The two women looked at each other and the captain offered her best, bland expression of command. Ro eyed her with vague suspicion for a moment, then nodded. "Yes, ma'am," she said.

"Dismissed," the captain said.

Ro shot her a final unfathomable look, then removed herself from the ready room. Janeway was left feeling quite cheerful at the brief encounter, sensing that she had came out on top ... something that was not always the case when dealing with Ro ... and aware that her initial disturbance had faded. She shrugged it off, deciding that it was nothing important. Certainly, someone would have contacted her if anything was truly wrong with the ship, and if not, then Ro was keeping an eye out for anything unusual.

She had developed a lot of faith in the keen senses and instincts of her 'rover'.

Carrying the padd Ro had given her down to the lower level, she downloaded the information from it into her console and went over it again, this time in more depth, rather than merely skimming it. As she did, she wondered how many of these reports were becoming simply 'busy work' for herself and her crew. Now in regular communication with Starfleet, Voyager was still in the unique position of not being able to accept any kind of new missions or orders from above. At one time, she would have been thrilled that they were once more connected with the Alpha Quadrant, but as time went on, she was beginning to feel unfulfilled as a Starfleet officer. She wanted something more to do beyond merely getting her ship back to port ... especially since that part had pretty much been handed over to the abilities of her chief engineer, B'Elanna Torres who, along with Harry Kim, Seven of Nine and the rest of the engineering staff, was busily constructing a merged warp propulsion/slipstream drive unit for the ship. Sometimes Janeway had the sense that she was merely along for the ride rather than being any kind of crucial element in the journey. There was also the reality that since their shore leave, things had been very quiet, and while she hated to admit it, a certain part of her was becoming bored. A little bit of action would spice up her daily existence immeasurably.

She wondered if she could persuade Seven to spend the night in the tiny room beneath the saucer section of the ship ... just for the sake of variety. As far as she knew, no one was aware of it being the couple's place to get away, and with the right ambiance of champagne, candlelight and a nice soft, away mission-issued mattress, it would be the perfect place to...

"Captain Janeway to the bridge."

Quickly she rose to her feet and headed out the door. There had been a distinct note of agitation in the voice of her first officer, Commander Chakotay, and it struck her that perhaps she should be bloody careful what she wished for.

It might just come true.

Seven of Nine stepped onto the bridge, summoned there by Commander Chakotay's general call for alpha shift personnel. The atmosphere that greeted her was a combination of anxiousness and excitement, and she wondered what had triggered it, as she moved unobtrusively to the auxiliary tactical station set just aft of the command level. Despite the lack of any kind of acknowledgment regarding Seven's arrival, Captain Janeway immediately looked over her shoulder, granting the Borg a brief glance that nonetheless, warmed the young woman with its flash of tender regard. Seven wondered if the captain was appreciating how the young woman now looked in the blue and black uniform of Starfleet, or if Janeway was merely glad to have her present. Certainly, Seven felt a distinct increase in her functionality with her partner only a few feet away.

As the Borg skimmed the most recent entries in the bridge log to bring herself up to date, she channeled the operation of the unmanned science station through her console. Apparently, Voyager had received a distress call and now the ship was quickly warping its way to the imperiled vessel's last known location. She glanced down at her spouse, noting how Janeway was leaning forward slightly in her chair, her classic features alert, her eyes, an even blue-grey, sparkling with keen intelligence. The Borg knew that her beloved partner had become a little restless in recent days, bored by the quiet area of space they had been traversing, though she was also aware that if she were to point that out, Janeway would deny it. Seven hoped that whatever this new crisis consisted of, it would not prove to be anything dangerous ... merely challenging for her partner

"Helm, report," Janeway said, in that authoritative tone she used in situations like this, where the anticipation was one of expectation rather than dread. "ETA to source of the distress call?"

Lt. Tom Paris, towheaded and boyish, did not turn around from his place at the front of the bridge. "Estimated time of arrival is twenty-five minutes, Captain," he replied smartly.

"Long range sensors are not yet detecting a vessel," Tuvok, the Vulcan security chief noted from his position at the tactical station to Seven's right. His tone was faintly warning, indicating his caution.

"We are detecting an anomaly, however," the dark-haired, dark-eyed Lt. Harry Kim offered. He was covering the ops station to Seven's left, in the aft part of the bridge. "It could be responsible for the ship's distress call, but it also could be preventing our sensors from getting a clear reading from what actually caused the problem."

"On screen," Janeway barked.

Immediately, all the bridge crew turned their eyes to the fore viewscreen. At first, it was just a pinkish, purple blob, shot through with the occasional flash of green and blue of plasma discharge. Visibly, it appeared similar to many other gaseous clouds in space that Voyager had encountered in the past, but the readings were definitely abnormal.

"Magnify."

The screen shifted, jumping toward them as if suddenly expanding in space. If there were a vessel in that swirling mass of energy, it would be difficult to pinpoint without searching in the cloud itself, but the anomaly could be the reason for the distress beacon in the first place. Seven frowned, trying to draw more details from the sensors. As they closed on the cloud, Paris dropped the ship out of warp, slowing to impulse.

Janeway had glanced over her shoulder at Kim as he gave his report; now she shot a look at her spouse. "What is it?" she asked. "The formation of a nebula?"

The Borg was already channeling the data from the sensors through her console.

"Possibly," Seven reported after a few moments. "But very dense for that kind of spatial anomaly. Full spectrum radiation, including low levels of theta energy patterns, is present. Sensors are also detecting large traces of both radiogenic and omicron particles, which rarely occur in this concentration or where theta radiation is present."

"Omicron particles distort sensor readings, and theta radiation erodes shields," Tuvok added. He raised an eyebrow. "I would advise caution, Captain ... particularly if the distress call is a direct result of the vessel's encounter with the anomaly."

"Noted," Janeway said, but there was a gleam in her eyes as she turned her head forward, and Seven stifled a sigh. Her partner was drawn to the unknown, intrigued by it ... indeed, it was possibly the real reason why Janeway had joined Starfleet in the first place, as opposed to merely following in her father's footsteps.

"Sensors have pinpointed the vessel, Captain," Harry offered. "It's approximately 2,000,000 kilometers inside the anomaly. Its propulsion system appears to be offline." He paused, hands moving over his board. "No response to our hails."

"Lifesigns?" Janeway queried sharply.

"Unable to get a clear reading," Tuvok said. "The distress beacon appears to be on automatic. Shields and weapons are inactive. Life-support is present, but minimal. There is indication of exterior hull scoring which could be consistent with a plasma discharge of some kind from within the nebula. "

"It's too far away for us to snag it with a tractor beam," Chakotay noted from his chair beside the captain. A large bear of a man, he glanced over at the captain inquiringly. "We may have to go in there ourselves. We should launch a class-one sensor probe first, however ... get a better idea of what we're dealing with."

Janeway shook her head. "it would take too long to receive the readings," she responded in a low voice. "The people on the other vessel might not have time." She raised her head, looking back at Seven. "Is there anything in the cloud that could have caused such damage?" she asked.

"Insufficient data," Seven offered. "There are plasma discharges detected periodically within the nebula, but not at the level which would breach our shields at their current rotation. It is unknown what level of shielding the alien vessel had."

"Captain," Tuvok offered, "The alien ship's external sensors have been destroyed. It's possible that if there are survivors, they are unaware of our presence."

Janeway frowned, looking at the cloud with narrowed eyes. Seven knew that in the Alpha Quadrant, the captain would have already taken her chances and entered the anomaly, drawn in by the cry for help. Here, however, there was only Voyager, with no form of backup, and Janeway had to be a great deal more careful about leaping headlong into the fray. It was an unfortunate reality, stinging the Starfleet captain's sense of pride and responsibility, but there were times when Janeway had to put her ship and crew first. It remained to be seen if this was one of those occasions or not.

Seven increased her scans of the nebula, running the data through more extensive analysis to pick out anything of note amid the swirling mass of dust, radiation and debris. "There is no indication of anything within the anomaly which would damage a vessel of that size and power signature in such a fashion," she said finally. "The energy levels remain at acceptable levels."

Janeway paused, then nodded, obviously having made her decision.

"Take us in, Mr. Paris," she ordered quietly. "Full impulse."

Seven felt herself tense as the vessel entered the outer edge of the swirling mass of dust, but there were no change beyond a mild increase in the energy output of the anomaly, one which was steady, but slight, the levels rising in tiny increments. She duly reported it to the captain, but beyond the instruction to maintain an eye on it, it did not cause Janeway any hesitation. In fact, as the minutes passed, and Voyager continued to close on the damaged ship without anything untoward occurring, there seemed to be a general easing of tension around the rest of the bridge. Seven noted it with disapproval, thinking it premature. Finally, they were in visual range of the distress call's source, with everyone splitting their concentration between their stations and the viewscreen, taking stock of the vessel which hung against the backdrop of dense, swirling gas like a discarded children's toy.

Seven was uncertain if what she was looking at was evidence of the damage caused, or if the ship's designer had actually created such a confused mass of metal. It looked for all the world like a block of metal after two giant hands had grasped it and twisted it ... hard. The fore part was thicker than the rear, and it was hard to judge if there had been any kind of warp engine nacelles or if they had been sheered off in some unimaginable disaster.

"Lifesigns are still undetermined, Captain," Harry remarked.

"Transporters?"

"They maintain their function despite the nebula's interference," Seven noted.

Janeway exchanged a glance with Chakotay, and he dipped his head.

The captain inhaled deeply. "Run a level three biogenic scan on the interior," she said. "Make sure we're not dealing with a plague ship. As soon as you have clearance, Commander, take a team and see what's going on over there."

Standing up, he looked over at Harry. "Have Lt. Ro, Ensign Neelix, and the Doctor meet me in transporter room two for away mission duty," he instructed, then headed for the lift.

Seven was vaguely disappointed that she hadn't been chosen for the away mission, but she was sure that the captain was even more frustrated that her command role prevented her from going herself. A quick glance revealed the expression on Janeway's face, the slight tightening around her eyes which was a sign Seven knew well, and she wondered why Kathryn had ever accepted a promotion to captain if she missed participating in reconnaissance away missions so much. However, there was a certain part of the Borg that was pleased that Janeway maintained her discipline about this particular Starfleet protocol. The initial contact, in a situation where conditions were unknown, was always the most dangerous, and Seven was just as glad that Janeway was here on the bridge, where she could keep an eye on her.

The bridge crew worked with hushed expectation as they waited for information to come in. The transporting over to the alien vessel took only minutes, and Tuvok kept the team's lifesigns carefully monitored. At ops, Harry maintained continuous scans of the interior of the vessel, while Seven ran a constant analysis of the anomaly they were in, ready to respond to the slightest hint of a threat or anything unusual. Tom held the ship at station-keeping, off the port bow of the massive vessel, the slim, tapered lines of Voyager particularly striking in contrast to the distorted shape of the other ship.

The only person who really had nothing to do was Janeway, although Seven saw that the captain had channeled all the various readouts through the console by the command chair. It was not enough however. To the average crewmember, Janeway might appear to be completely calm and collected, but for the Borg, the subtle hints of impatience stirring in the captain were clearly visible. The muscle at the corner of the woman's jaw twitched occasionally, her shoulders were set uncomfortably square beneath the crimson band of her uniform tunic, and her long elegant fingers pressed the touch screen with excessive force.

"Chakotay to Voyager."

Janeway straightened abruptly. "Go ahead." She frowned as the communication continued to be audio only, and she shot a look at Harry who shook his head to indicate he did not know why they were unable to get a view on the screen. In away missions such as this one, a small mobile probe was taken along to maintain a visual record of what was going on. Either it was malfunctioning or something was preventing Voyager from receiving its transmission.

"Captain, the ship doesn't appear to be that damaged," the first officer reported calmly. His transmission held a certain amount of distortion and Seven assisted Kim in cleaning it up. "We've found several bodies, however, and while it's difficult to tell with this alien lifeform, it appears as if they may have died violently. Our tricorders are not detecting any signs of life on board other than the away team, but we're continuing to search for something that might give us a clue as to what happened."

"Keep the channel open," Janeway said, frowning. "We're having temporary difficulty with our visual link." She glanced back at Seven. "What's the problem?"

"Unknown, Captain," Seven said, aware the answer frustrated her spouse, but not as much as it did her having to say it. She disliked it immensely when technology malfunctioned without any apparent cause. "It is not on Voyager's end. I have instructed the probe to run a self-diagnostic."

Janeway regarded her for a few seconds, and her eyes lightened in color for a moment, almost as if in amusement at the tone of aggravation in Seven's voice. "Keep on it," she instructed quietly.

"Yes, Captain," Seven responded obediently.

She received the results from the probe's self-diagnostic and discovered that while the probe was still transmitting and receiving, it could no longer 'see' anything. Somehow, the optical circuit in its housing had burnt out ... in essence, 'blinding' it ... though there was no indication what had caused it or why the internal processing unit had not detected the malfunction immediately. The captain was not pleased to hear the report, undoubtedly suspecting that the probe had not been maintained properly and the team hadn't bothered to check it before taking it with them. Voyager transported another probe over immediately, but it maintained the visual feed for only a few moments before it, too, went blank. There was no reason for it, ... it simply stopped working. It was a mystery that made both the away team and the bridge crew monitoring them nervous, but at Chakotay's insistence that, otherwise, they were fine, the captain did not recall them. Instead, she instructed her first officer to keep describing everything he saw as he explored the death ship.

"We've split up," the first officer reported to his captain and the rest of the bridge crew. "The Doctor and I have come forward to the command center while Lt. Ro and Ensign Neelix have taken the aft section and engineering. The bodies are spread all over the ship, almost as if they died where they were standing. They are approximately two meters in height ... bipedal ... vaguely reptilian..."

"Captain," the Doctor broke in, "I'm examining what appears to be the command crew. They apparently died in convulsions. Whatever hit them happened very quickly. Putting out a distress call was probably all they had time for."

"Is this a disease, Doctor?" Janeway asked, concerned.

"If it is, then it's simply not showing up on any of my scans," he responded. "But these aliens have a unique physiology and it's unlikely that they have much in common with our own biogenic makeup ... As a matter of fact, I'm picking up indications that they have more than the traditional five senses found in humanoids ... it's possible they have as many as fifteen. I'm currently downloading the logs of the medical officer on this vessel in the hope that it will give me more information."

Janeway blinked and Seven raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Fifteen," the captain said with awed amazement, pacing about the lower level of the command level. "I knew that there are several instances of extrasensory traits in various species, considered to be valid additional senses to those of sight, taste, touch, smell and hearing ... but fifteen different senses in one species?"

"How would you be able to define them?" Tom asked softly.

"It would be difficult," Janeway said as she looked at him thoughtfully. "How would a species with no eyes understand what sight is? How could we with only five, understand what it means to have fifteen?" She lifted her head. "Doctor, do you believe it's safe to beam one of the aliens back to Voyager to do more extensive scans? Not only would I like to know more about them as a species, I want to know exactly what killed them."

"My thoughts exactly, Captain," Chakotay said. "In the meantime, we're going..."

He broke off abruptly and Seven felt a chill as she heard sounds in the background, indicating another communication from the rest of the away team.

"Captain," Chakotay said urgently. "We're on our way aft. Ro and Neelix are having difficulty. Please stand by."

Ro Laren glanced around the large room she and Neelix had entered, noting the dimensions which were truly alien, a combination of oversized controls and distorted perspectives. It made her head ache slightly, and she had to swallow hard as bile rose in the back of her throat. The one thing they forgot to mention when she had been in Starfleet Academy was what she would be forced to smell in the course of her career. She would see the awe inspiring sights, she would hear the most wondrous sounds, but no one had ever mentioned the variety of odors one was exposed to on various away missions. Oddly familiar smells that provoked memories of other places and incidents, smells that made her stop and simply inhale for the newness and pleasure of it ... smells that made her want to creep into a corner and vomit.

Every alien species had a distinct odor, as well. The Cardassians smelled reptilian, dry and dusty, almost acidic. The faintest trace was enough to raise the hair on the back of her neck, her lips drawing automatically back over her teeth in a primeval snarl. Vulcans, in contrast, were vaguely spicy, the faint tang of sage and hidden desert pools of sweet spring water, granting her a serenity whenever she was in their presence. The Humans she had met boasted a variety of scents, but they were faint, almost bland, civilization taking away their more visceral scents, particularly on starships. Neelix, searching the room with her, smelled of his kitchen and Voyager, but beyond that, his Talaxian physiology reminded her simply of cool green forests and mossy growth. Other Bajorans on the ship, smelled simply of a home she would probably never see again. Klingons, meanwhile, were bold and peaty, rife with the musky overlay of their current emotional state; not unpleasant, but one certainly knew when they were around without having to see them. With B'Elanna, particularly when aroused, it was a most intoxicating scent, a fragrance that absolutely consumed Ro.

The alien creatures on this ship?

They smelled of death, thick and sickly sweet, decomposition and the metal scent of blood that stuck in her nostrils and made her want to run until she was once more in the bland, sterile air of Voyager.

These beings were not a particularly attractive species either, she noted dispassionately, though one had to suspect that no species looked particularly good after dying in bone-snapping convulsions. Two meters in height, they were stocky and broad, with thick trunks and powerful limbs, their seven-fingered hands terminating in bony tips. Their features were a combination of the familiar and the repulsive, not having eyes as she knew them, but rather slashes of some kind of faceted crystal where one would generally find optical organs. The nasal area was surrounded by cilia, as was the opening in the lower part of their face which one might designate as a mouth.

Though for all Ro know, it was their reproductive organs she was looking at, and their sensing organs were the funny protrusions at the end of their fingers ... or were those tentacles?

She tried to breathe shallowly through her mouth and stepped over the recumbent figure, studying the strange console in front of her as she tried not to slip in the welter of body fluids which had leaked out various orifices of the corpses. This had appeared to be an engine room when she first entered, but the more she looked at it, the more she realized that she was merely making a wild guess. So much of exploration was assumption of commonality and the belief that deep down, all species had to deal with the same laws of physics and space that the rest of them did. Except of course, that wasn't always the case. It was entirely possible that this was the communal lavatory, and the aliens had been killed, not at their stations, but rather, while taking their equivalent of a piss.

She cleared her throat and decided that she was becoming a trifle lightheaded from the thick odor of decay which seemed to cling to her very skin. An hour or so in the bathtub in the quarters she shared with B'Elanna Torres might cure it, but she wasn't completely sure about that. She glanced over at Neelix who was intently scanning the equipment with a tricorder. She was tempted to let him in on her theory, but decided that he'd probably think she was being a bit irreverent. He wouldn't be the first crewmate to think so, but she would rather get along with the people on Voyager than alienate a greater part of them, as she had on previous vessels she had been on, including the Enterprise.

"Doesn't this bother you?" she asked instead.

He mumbled something.

"What?" She moved closer.

"Does what bother me?" he asked more clearly.

"The odor," she said.

"Actually, no," he admitted, after lifting his head and sniffing. "In fact, I hardly smell anything at all."

She stared at him, then shook her head, figuring that an insensitive nose was just another Talaxian trait that she could file away in her assessment of the various species surrounding her. However, it did sort of explain why his cooking had taken so long to improve. He simply couldn't smell the stuff he cooked and thus, had no idea that a great deal of it was barely palatable in those early years.

She made her way over to some interesting controls at one end of the room, running her tricorder over them, trying to detect something ... anything ... that would give her a clue as to what had happened here. She did note that there appeared to be damaged circuitry that the two dead aliens had been working on before they died. She followed it as far as she could, tracing it into what passed as their main computer, determining that it had something to do with the shield modulation.

She wished B'Elanna were here. Not only did she feel more complete in the presence of her lover, the Klingon's formidable skills and transcendental affinity with machinery would undoubtedly comprehend exactly what had happened and why. Ro was fairly decent when it came to jury-rigging faulty equipment ... anyone who had graduated Starfleet Academy and/or ended up as an active participant in the Maquis generally was ... but she was no engineer. B'Elanna was truly gifted, and Ro spared a few seconds to wonder what lay ahead for her lover. The truth of the matter was, B'Elanna's skills were such, at this point, that she could probably write her own ticket in Starfleet, especially since she had recently made the transition from provisional to commissioned officer, exchanging her embossed collar band for two golden pips. Ro realized she had no idea what the Klingon planned once they returned to the Federation, and it occurred to her that perhaps they had better take the time to talk about it.

The tap on her shoulder nearly sent her through the near bulkhead. She had not sensed anyone's approach which shocked her profoundly. It was impossible that she had been so lost in thought that all her defenses had gone down ... not on an away mission, she thought wildly. She whirled, moving instinctively with deadly force. Neelix cringed back, surprise and consternation on his face as Ro's body thudded into his, slamming him up against the computer console and pinning him there, her forearm jammed over his throat. Wide-eyed, she stared at him, then immediately released him.

"What the hell were you doing sneaking up on me like that?" she demanded.

"I didn't sneak up on you," he huffed, rubbing his neck as he stared at her in outrage. "I called your name. You didn't hear me."

Ro felt a shiver of dread ripple through her. No, she hadn't heard him. In fact, she could barely hear him now, having to lean forward to make out his words. Everything else had gone quiet as well. Or had it?

What was happening here?

"Wait," she said, swallowing hard as she realized her own voice sounded muffled to her ears.

"Is something wrong?" he asked anxiously.

She stared at him, wondering how much of that she had heard, and how much she had picked up from his expression and by reading the words his lips had formed.

"I think there is," she said, forcing herself to be calm. She reached up and stuck her finger in her right ear, jiggling it to clear the passage though the rational part of her looked askance at this ludicrous attempt to make it right. Obviously, one did not simply lose one's hearing like this, within a matter of minutes ... not without something happening to her of a more concrete nature than this insidious, gradual lessening of her ability to hear.

"I'm having difficulty hearing," she said loudly.

He flinched and leaned away. Obviously his hearing was perfectly fine.

"Why?" he said slowly and distinctly.

"I don't know," she shouted, then had to calm herself again, feeling her heart pound in her chest. She looked about uneasily at the bodies sprawled around them. "Maybe it's a symptom," she added in a more controlled tone.

A flash of fear crossed his tufted, spotted features and he looked around. "A disease?" he said in a hushed tone.

At least, that's what she assumed he said. The truth was, she could barely hear at all, and she picked up a metal tool which had fallen to the deck, using it to bang on the nearest wall. The metallic thumps were extremely muffled, and each thump was less loud than the one before. Her hands trembling, she dropped the tool on the deck, seeing the impact which should have clattered loudly, but not hearing it at all. Breathing shakily, she raised her eyes to meet Neelix's golden gaze. He had his hands over his ears, no doubt to protect them from all the banging and crashing she was doing.

"Contact the Commander," she said harshly.

He regarded her with wide golden eyes, then nodded, touching his comm badge. She couldn't hear anything now, just watched his lips move. She couldn't even detect her breath or the sound of her heart in her chest. It was completely silent.

And she was terrified.

It took all the discipline instilled with both training, and a complicated life, for her to stand firm where she was. Resolutely, she tried to quell the panic within her, which threatened to be released at any second. She had no idea what was going on or what was happening to her, but she suspected it had a great deal to do with this ship and what caused the death of these aliens.

Was that what she had to look forward to? Death?

But before she could pursue that depressing line of thought, the deck suddenly heaved under her and she was flung across the room, skidding through gore and things that really did not bear thinking about too closely. Her slide was halted against the nearest bulkhead where she stayed put until the ship finally stopped shaking around her. Her uniform was stained and unpleasantly damp, and she grimaced as she rolled to her feet, looking across the room to where her companion, on his hands and knees, was looking down at a pool of dried blood beneath him. He seemed to be in some kind of difficulty and concerned, she stumbled over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

His lips were moving but she couldn't make out what he was saying, and she shook her head helplessly. He paused, frustrated, then got to his feet. He drew out a padd, pressed some controls on it, then handed it to her.

'This room smells bad?' was written on the screen.

"It smells horrible," she responded, handing the padd back. She didn't know how loudly she was talking but she did try to moderate it a little when she saw him flinch. Just because she couldn't hear didn't mean she should try to deafen him as well.

'I can't smell it,' read the next note. 'I should be able to smell it but I can't. I can't smell anything at all.'

Ah, so it was not a Talaxian trait after all. Ro sent a mental apology his way for thinking that was why he couldn't cook well ... or hadn't until recently ... and nodded unhappily.

"Something's going on here," she said. "We'd better find the others and find out if they've been affected as well."

Soberly, the pair left the desolate engineering room and headed forward, to the last known location of Chakotay and the Doctor. Ro hoped desperately that the hologram would have some idea what was going on...

And how to cure it.

Chakotay's last words got lost as Seven cried out her warning about a sudden build up of plasma and an imminent energy discharge. There was no time for Janeway to brace herself before Voyager was abruptly jolted by the release of power which crackled over the hull, creating enough feedback along the sensor array to arc through the integrity field, disrupting it as the ship shifted sideways. Helpless, the captain crashed to the deck, and it took a few seconds before she was able to stumble back to her feet, shooting a glance around to make sure everyone was all right. They were all back at their stations, and sudden embarrassment flooded Janeway as she realized she was the only one who had fallen, perhaps because she had been standing in the middle of the lower level rather than having a handy console to grab onto. When would she learn to stay in her chair instead of stalking all over the bridge like a jackal circling its prey, making everyone nervous and putting herself at risk every time the ship hit a tiny bump?

Though this had not exactly been a tiny bump.

"Mr. Kim, contact the away team, see what's happening," she ordered, absently rubbing the ache in her elbow where it had smacked into the base of her command chair. "What the hell was that?"

"Unknown," Seven said, frowning as her long fingers flew over her board. "The level of energy output remained at a slight if steady incline until suddenly increasing catastrophically within a matter of microseconds." She paused. "Captain, half the external sensors were burnt out by the discharge which contained an extremely concentrated burst of omicron particles."

"Captain, I'm not getting any response from the away team," Kim said worriedly. "The impact of whatever hit us was greatly lessened by our shield harmonics." He inhaled deeply. "The ship they're on doesn't even have any shields, however."

"Beam them out," Janeway snapped.

"Too much interference in the wake of the energy release," Seven informed her crisply as the Borg studied her readings. "Engineering informs us that it will take some time before they're back online." She raised her pale eyes to meet the captain's. "I would advise not remaining in this area any longer than we have to. The energy buildup occurred with little forewarning and with damaged sensors; further data on the nebula surrounding us will be limited." She paused. "Without knowing the cause of the sudden increase, we must assume there will be another one eventually."

Janeway hesitated, then nodded. "Take a shuttle and retrieve the away team, Tuvok," she ordered, shooting a look at her security chief. "Quickly. Maintain rotating shield harmonics at all times and get back here as soon as possible. I think we've pretty much worn out our welcome."

He dipped his head, then nodded briefly at the Borg. "Lt. Seven, you're with me," he said.

Janeway opened her mouth to protest, then closed it with a snap. Resolutely turning her back to the aft part of the bridge, she refused to watch as Tuvok and Seven entered the turbolift. Every instinct wanted to countermand the Vulcan's selection of officer to accompany him, but she knew she couldn't. Seven was in Starfleet now, and in any event, she had always been perfectly capable of carrying out any kind of away mission ... with the possible exception of establishing diplomatic ties with a species who were familiar with the Borg. But even in that case, Janeway was certain Seven's charm could win out, and the rest of her formidable skills as a crewmember were undeniable. In fact, together, Tuvok and Seven were practically an indestructible away team.

So why was there an acid taste of fear and worry in her mouth?

Because you love her, dolt, and it doesn't get any easier to send her off on an away mission no matter what it is or how long you've been married ... but it's still her job and yours, her little voice scolded her.

The answer didn't make Janeway feel any better.

She knew she should sit down in her command chair, but she didn't, pacing uneasily about the lower level as she waited impatiently for the shuttle to make its way over to the other ship. The docking procedure seemed to take an eternity, and she found she was grinding her back teeth, having to force herself to stop. Around her, new bridge crew had come on to cover the stations of the missing officers: Lt. Ayala on tactical, and Ensign Wildman on the science station. They, along with Harry Kim, were keeping a stringent monitor on the nebula and the second away team.

Both Tuvok and Seven were keeping communication to a minimum as they carried out their mission as swiftly as possible. Periodically, Tuvok transmitted a short message burst to indicate that their status was continuing on track, as Harry maintained a lock on their comm badges. Janeway could have asked for constant verbal updates from the Vulcan, of course, but she was well aware of how distracting it was for people, who were trying to work quickly, to have to constantly communicate back to the ship simply to say things were going as intended. If there was anything she needed to know, he'd call her.

She hoped.

"Tuvok to Voyager," came the message finally, just as the captain thought she was about to scream from the uncertainty and impatience.

"Go," Janeway said sharply.

"We have recovered the away team and are undocking from the alien vessel," the Vulcan said shortly. "Our ETA is ten minutes. Please have a medical team standing by. The members of the away team have all sustained injuries. The Doctor..." Tuvok's voice seemed to falter slightly, but it could have been the captain's imagination. "The Doctor's holo-matrix was damaged by the energy discharge. His program remains in the mobile emitter, yet is inaccessible. Fortunately, we were able to salvage the downloaded data from the alien ship's database and secure one of the bodies for future study."

"Understood," Janeway said, feeling the blood drain from her face. Four casualties on one futile rescue mission were simply unacceptable losses ... particularly when they were her friends. She wished she had ignored the damned distress call altogether, though of course, that would have been unacceptable as well. She lifted her head, swallowing hard. "Sek, prepare to receive casualties," she relayed to sickbay, not bothering to wait for a response. She turned her eyes to the helm. "Lt. Paris, as soon as the shuttle is back on board, get us out of this nebula, then go down and assist Sek in the Doctor's absence."

"Yes, ma'am," Tom responded, his tone worried.

Janeway watched as the shuttle crept toward them with what seemed to be agonizing slowness. Rather than resume pacing, however, she compelled herself to return to her command chair where she sat down and tried to look composed. Every second that passed was like a rasp over her nerves, and she silently urged whoever was piloting to hurry the hell up. Unfortunately, a shuttle of that size had to take care with maneuvering in such a dense mass of dust and radiation, and they were unquestionably going as fast as they could.

"Captain!"

That was all that Ensign Wildman had time to get out before Voyager was struck again. The jolt was no stronger than the previous one, but Janeway had the distinct impression that the cumulative effect could probably become very bad over time. She was held steady in her command chair, but when she looked up, she realized that her ship had taken further damage. The viewscreen revealed nothing but a bland, grey wall, and she could hear Harry in the background trying, without success, to get through to the away team.

"Report," she snapped.

"The rest of our external sensors have been burned out, Captain," Tom reported. "However, shields are holding steady."

"Communication with the shuttle has broken off," Harry noted. "Internal communications remain online."

"Engineering, how are the repairs coming with the sensors," Janeway asked. "I need a team on external communications." She didn't like this sensation of being deaf and blind.

"We're working as fast as we can, bridge," B'Elanna Torres's voice came back, sounding quite exasperated. By using the generic term of the place she was calling, she managed to avoid showing blatant disrespect to the command officer who had called, Janeway noted. "We haven't finished the ones damaged in the first jolt, Captain. Is this going to go on for much longer?"

"We hope not," Janeway assured her. "Do the best you can, B'Elanna." She cut the channel and leaned forward in her chair. "Tom, where was the shuttle's last known position?"

"Approaching the hangar deck," he said. "I've left the doors opened. They'll have to make a visual docking, assuming their sensors took the same damage ours did."

"It's possible that they took even worse damage," Harry noted. "A shuttle's shield harmonics are not anywhere near as powerful as Voyager's."

"Hold her steady, Tom," she said, her heart rate quickening unpleasantly. "Do we have any external sensors at this point?"

"None, Captain," he responded. The set of his shoulders tightened. "Captain, I'm having difficulty getting a lock on our last known position. We seem to be drifting."

Janeway didn't like the sound of that at all.

"Hangar deck to bridge."

"Go ahead," Janeway snapped.

"The Edison has docked. The away teams are being unloaded now and the injured are on their way to sickbay."

"Excellent," Janeway said, relief making her knees weak. She was glad she was sitting down. "Get us out of here, Tom."

There was a pause.

"I don't think I can do that, Captain," he said.

Her hands tightened on the arms of her chair.

"Explain."

"The navigational array is ... not offline, but it's not giving clear data either," Tom said. "I'm not sure if the direction we're headed now is the same one we were in when we entered the anomaly." He glanced back at her. "I don't know that I can count on these readings to reverse ourselves and fly out. With the viewscreen nonfunctional, I can't even 'look' at where I'm going."

What had seemed like a vaguely minor problem suddenly became a gigantic one, and she got to her feet, reaching the helm in two strides where she looked down over Tom's shoulder.

"What's the size of the anomaly?" she asked urgently.

"It's not very big," Harry announced. "No larger than a light-year at it's widest point."

"Captain, we could go to warp and be clear of it in a few minutes, even if there's no way of knowing which way we're headed," Tom added. "Once we're clear, we can repair the sensors and be on our way."

Janeway frowned. "There's only one problem," she said. "We could be on a direct collision course with that alien ship. In fact, for all we know, there could be an entire fleet of dead ships in here, not to mention hidden asteroids or even a planetoid or two."

Tom winced. "I hadn't thought of that," he said. He paused. "We could drop the blast shield on the bridge ... fly Voyager manually without the sensors." He looked relatively pleased by the idea.

"Manually?" Harry said, gulping a little, obviously less pleased with the concept. "How slow would we have to be going to give you enough time to turn if something does appear in front of us? In a forming nebula this dense, visibility is probably limited to about 200,000 kilometers. Even in clear space, it's practically impossible to fly on manual only for very long. A starship's velocity is simply too great."

Tom frowned, doing the calculations of the ship's mass/velocity ratio in his head. "I wouldn't be able to use full impulse," he admitted. "Maybe one tenth only." He patted the helm. "This is the first time I've ever regretted Voyager being such a lively ship. She's extremely maneuverable at high warp, but that's because of the bio-neural circuitry tied into the external sensors."

"Which are burnt out, and will continue to be burnt out whenever we're hit by another one of those discharges," Janeway said quietly. This was getting worse and worse. "How long will it take us to clear the nebula using only partial impulse."

"Assuming we head in the proper direction, going out the same way we came in..." Tom said, touching his console. He paused, looking as if he had tasted something very unpleasant. "A few days. It could take a week or so if we somehow end up traveling through the widest part of the nebula."

"Wonderful," Janeway growled, rather than the profanity she really wanted to say. She inhaled deeply. "It doesn't seem as if we have much choice at the moment." She glanced back at Kim. "Lower the viewscreen, Mr. Kim. Pull back the blast shield."

"Aye, Captain," he responded, putting in the necessary commands. At the front of the bridge, the viewscreen, which received its images from Voyager's varied and sensitive external sensors, slowly slid into the floor, revealing a large viewport which was covered by a panel constructed of the same material as the hull. A bright seam appeared down the middle, splitting it in half as each side drew back, revealing an external view of the nebula, the swirling colors and drifting patterns of energy much harder to look at in reality, than when the view was channeled through a multitude of filters and enhancements.

Janeway winced and patted Paris on the shoulder. "Do your best," she instructed. "Don't run into anything."

"I promise, Captain," he said, squinting faintly. He touched some controls. "Let's try the thrusters for now and work our way up. At least until we find out where the heck that other ship is."

Janeway nodded and returned to her command chair, leaving it in his hands. Though the ship was beginning to move, at the distances calculated in space, the equivalent of a snail could race them and win at this point. This was going to be a long trip, and it wouldn't be made any easier by those energy discharges which periodically bounced the ship around. Increasing the shields and channeling excess power to the integrity field had dampened down the impact even more, but if the ship was being knocked off course every time they were jolted, they could possibly end up going around in circles. It wasn't as if there were any stars visible by which they could navigate, and without their sensors, they couldn't detect any particular 'landmark' to guide them.

She raised her head. "Bridge to Lt. Torres," she instructed. "Concentrate your attention on the navigational array sensors. I want those to have the priority."

"Aye, Captain," came the irritable reply. B'Elanna always hated it when her beloved ship was being damaged. Janeway didn't know any engineer who didn't.

The captain had barely cut that communication when another came through.

"Sickbay to bridge."

The words brought the fate of the away team back into focus for her and she straightened anxiously. "Go ahead."

"Captain, you'd better get down here," Sek said. "I need to speak with you about the away team casualties."

Janeway felt her blood run cold at the tone in the hologram's voice.

The holographic ship's counselor surveyed the patients scattered about sickbay and felt the slightest touch of panic thread down her spine. Two of the crewmembers had been confined to biobeds for the immediate future, and while the others were ambulatory, the damage which had been done to them was not anything she wanted to tackle until she had more information.

Damn it, I'm a shrink, not a sawbones, Sek thought, conveniently overlooking the fact that as long as she remained in sickbay, her matrix had full access to the ship's medical database and could perform, in a pinch, any medical procedure the EMH could, although perhaps not as skillfully.

At least her ability in psychiatry would come in handy. The effects of being exposed directly to the nebula had not been life threatening, but they had certainly been devastating to the psyche of various members of the team. She only hoped the captain would make it to sickbay soon. It would be a relief to pass some of the burden onto Janeway, though she realized that wasn't entirely fair of her, since Sek doubted that the captain would know what to do either. However, perhaps Janeway's presence would bring comfort to some of the patients ... and to one of them in particular.

The door hissed open and Sek watched the captain stride briskly into the medical center, her keen eyes taking in the entire situation with a single glance. Janeway started briefly for where Seven was lying on a biobed, her eyes closed, hesitated, then made a move toward Chakotay who was sitting on another biobed as he spoke with Tuvok, Ro and Neelix, then hesitated again. Finally, she frowned and looked around until she spotted Sek.

"In here, Captain," Sek said, drawing her commanding officer into the office. The away team had paused briefly in their discussion when the captain appeared, glancing over at her, but did not make a move to speak with her. Obviously, they were going to let Sek fill the captain in on what had happened ... an honor that the hologram could have gladly done without.

"Report," Janeway demanded.

Sek wondered how she should break the bad news, then took a look at those thundercloud eyes and decided she had better just start talking.

"All I know at the moment is how the away teams were affected," Sek responded quickly, trying to project calm toward the agitated woman.

"Which is?"

Sek took a deep breath, reaching over to draw up data on the console on the desk. "Every member of the initial away team has had a different sense rendered inoperative," she explained. "The specific area of the thalamus which controls that particular sensory organ has somehow stopped functioning. Information is still traveling to the brain through the nerve endings, but how it is processed has been totally disrupted." She drew up the files, one after another, of the away team. "There is no actual physical damage that I can find in any of my scans, but as it stands now, Lt. Ro's hearing is gone, leaving her completely deaf, while Ensign Neelix has lost all sense of smell. Both of them can return to duty if required, though Ro will require assistance in communicating with others for the immediate future. Chakotay, on the other hand, has lost all sense of touch. He needs to remain in sickbay since he doesn't have much control over his reactions."

Janeway looked blank and Sek elaborated. "If he tries to pick something up, if he touches someone, he either uses too much, or too little, pressure. He's very clumsy, which makes him prone to injury, which could actually be life-threatening. For example, he could cut himself and bleed to death without noticing because there wouldn't be any pain to let him know. Meanwhile, the Doctor..." Her voice faltered a little. "The Doctor has completely shut down his program and I don't know how to activate it again. I can't even begin to figure out why, but I'm assuming it's tied in with what happened to the rest of the away team. Perhaps B'Elanna would have better luck with it ... it seems more her specialty than mine."

"What about the rescue team?"

"Unfortunately, they were affected as well," Sek noted. "Tuvok retains his base senses, but he is unable to access his telepathic abilities."

Janeway blinked. "His sixth and seventh senses," she allowed in an odd tone. "Varied psychic abilities are also considered senses in other species. For Vulcans, the part of the brain which controls telepathy and empathy is very active, as much as the section controlling the eyes and ears."

"Yes," Sek replied. "He is fit for duty, otherwise."

Janeway swallowed visibly. "Seven?"

Sek really did not want to say this, which is probably why she left the Borg for last. Perhaps she had been hoping to avoid it altogether, though she recognized that was an entirely irrational thought.

"Seven is blind," she said simply.

The expression which flashed briefly across the captain's face before the command mask slammed shut over it was one Sek hoped she would never see again. She started to reach out a hand toward Janeway, then drew it back as the woman abruptly moved away, staring through the transparency to the sickbay to where the patients remained, and staring at one patient in particular. Sek suspected that Janeway was being torn in half at the moment, caught terribly between the woman and the captain. Unquestionably, Janeway needed to bring the situation her ship was in under control before she allowed for anything else, but she also needed very badly to rush out to the Borg's side to do whatever she could as Seven's spouse. When she turned back to regard the hologram, Sek knew the 'captain' had managed to take priority for the moment.

"Is this permanent?" Janeway's voice was like nails rasping over a blackboard.

"At this point, I simply don't know," Sek offered quietly. "I have formulated a theory that there is something ... some kind of undetectable radiation perhaps ... in the nebula. So far, our shields have prevented it from penetrating the ship and affecting the rest of the crew, but the away teams were directly exposed to it while on the other vessel, as were Tuvok and Seven when they rescued them. I don't have any more information than that, however, it is my medical recommendation that Voyager should vacate this area of space as quickly as possible."

She didn't like the way the muscle jumped in the captain's jaw just then.

"Captain?"

"We're leaving the nebula," the captain said in a tone that immediately raised the holographic hair on the back of Sek's neck. "It just won't be as quickly as you or I would like. In the meantime, I think we should try to recover the Doctor." She paused, raising an eyebrow. "Not that I doubt your competence, Sek..."

Sek was amazed that through all this, the captain was concerned about a hologram's feelings ... but then the ship's counselor was a fully recognized crewmember after all, and at the moment, Janeway was in full command mode, taking responsibility for everything, no matter how minor, that was occurring with her ship and crew.

"No offense taken, Captain," Sek said. "I want the Doctor back as much as anyone. Perhaps more."

"I'll send Harry down to work on the emitter, but B'Elanna has her hands full with the ship's sensors," the captain continued. "Do your best for the crewmembers affected. I need to get back to the bridge."

"Yes, Captain," Sek said. As the captain turned to go, she stopped her. "Captain, the away team would benefit with a few moments with you," she said innocently. Janeway stared at her and Sek shrugged. "It might ease their minds about their current situation." She paused, before adding delicately, "A few words with those who can't yet leave sickbay would be especially helpful."

Janeway abruptly seemed to increase by ten centimeters, dwarfing the diminutive hologram, though the captain hadn't moved a muscle as clouds gathered in those battleship grey eyes.

"Don't ever attempt to manipulate me personally by using my professional devotion to my ship, Sek," she said harshly. "If I need to speak to Seven, then tell me; don't try to push me into a personal encounter by playing on my professional responsibilities as commanding officer. That will not be tolerated."

That didn't go well at all, Sek thought frantically, wondering how she had bungled it so badly. Bad timing, indeed. The captain must truly be terrified for Seven and I didn't help matters any.

"That's not what I meant, Captain," the hologram said hastily ... and very inaccurately. "I know there's a lot happening right now that you need to attend to, but it could make a lot of difference in how Seven and the others deal with this if you would spend a moment with them now."

Not to mention your own ability to function for the next little while if you don't spend some time with Seven, the hologram thought silently to herself, but certainly did not say out loud.

Janeway hesitated, then gave a short, quick nod before leaving the office, heading not for the exit as Sek had feared, but for Chakotay. Heaving a sigh of relief, the hologram realized that if she wanted to have any hope of being able to offer advice freely to the captain so that it would be listened to, she needed to take an entirely different approach than the subtle, gently probing maneuvering she had been attempting. It had definitely not fooled the captain, and furthermore, with Janeway's antipathy to counseling clearly on record, it had only served to make her more wary of the hologram. Sek was going to have to be a lot more straightforward in the future if she wanted to reach the woman and perform her job properly as her ship's counselor.

She watched as Janeway spoke a few moments with Chakotay and Tuvok, the former nodding his head before lying back down on the biobed, while the latter headed for the exit, orders given and received. The captain then shared a moment with Neelix and Ro, using a lot of body language and a padd in the conversation. The Bajoran nodded, then taking the padd, she and the Talaxian left sickbay as well. Obviously, their services were needed despite their injuries, which did not bode well for the current condition of the ship.

Sek didn't like seeing uncured patients leave sickbay, but she had to accept the necessity of it. A quick check with the ship's status over the computer revealed that Voyager was not going anywhere very quickly, and when she discovered that the ship's external sensors had been completely burned out, she understood why. There had been periodic jolts which rumbled through the decks of the ship as discharges continued to assault the Intrepid-class vessel, but so far, the shields were holding strong.

Which was an extremely good thing, because while it was one thing to deal with an away team who had lost access to their varied senses, it was quite another to have it happen to the entire crew. Then, there remained the mystery of the alien vessel. Those beings simply hadn't lost the use of a sense or two, they had died ... painfully and violently. The question was, why had they died while a Borg, a Vulcan, a Human, a Talaxian, and a Bajoran had not? Was it the difference in the amount of senses each species possessed or was what happened to the aliens simply a preview of what was going to happen eventually to Voyager if they didn't manage to get clear of this nebula in time? And what had happened to the Doctor?

Sighing, Sek sat down and started going through the logs which had been downloaded from the alien vessel. In the auxiliary storage room, an alien corpse waited for her to make a closer examination. If the Doctor was not restored, that would have to be Sek's next task; attempting to perform an autopsy. It wasn't anything she was looking forward to, but she was certainly capable of it so long as she remained tied into the sickbay systems.

When she glanced up from her task, the captain was gone. She hoped that Janeway had been able to help Seven a bit. The Borg was not used to being incapacitated, but unfortunately, this situation had done just that for the time being until Seven's unique ability to adapt asserted itself.

Sek hoped it would be soon.

It was so dark ... constantly dark.

Around her, Seven could hear people talking and moving, could smell the medicinal scent that was unique to sickbay, allowing her to know where she was ... but it didn't make her feel any better. The last thing she remembered seeing was the huge bay doors as she piloted the shuttle between them into the welcoming haven of Voyager's hangar. As she locked down the shuttle, shutting down the engines, her vision began to grey out, then faded entirely as she tried to assist Tuvok with the rest of the away team. In the end, it was Ro Laren who helped her to sickbay, guiding her through the corridors which once had been so familiar, but now had become a strange place where she didn't know where she was going at any given moment.

Since arriving in sickbay, she had tried to remain calm, doing whatever was asked of her, constantly aware of her heart pounding so hard she thought it would escape from her chest. She needed to be with Kathryn, but she realized that the ship was in a crisis situation and it was unlikely that the captain could spare the time to visit, no matter how much she might want to. Seven tried very hard to understand that, though every part of her wanted to cry out, to demand that her partner come and hold her until all this went away.

After all the scans and questions and probes, Sek had left her alone and the young woman lay silently on the biobed, trying desperately not to weep. She was aware of the conversations taking place around her, of Neelix and Chakotay talking about what had happened, of Tuvok offering his dry, logical opinion on what might be going on, and what could be expected if the ship's external sensors continued to be burnt out. Ro had not been heard from in quite a while and Seven wondered if the Starfleet officer was still present. Then, she concluded that perhaps the Bajoran was communicating with a padd only ... Ro had developed an unfortunate tendency to yell whenever she spoke, and others had probably pointed that out to her.

No one asked Seven for her opinion, didn't even seem to acknowledge her presence, as if because she couldn't see them, they were unable to see her. Or perhaps they merely thought she was unconscious or sleeping. Lying there, she did not want to open her eyes, because when she did, it was exactly as if she hadn't bothered, and that was too much to bear right now.

She wondered why her nanoprobes had not activated to repair this, or at least, restored function in her artificial eye, providing the flat, eerie greenish, Borg night vision. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that her cranial implant was reading everything as being perfectly normal which made no sense at all. It was possible that there was even an answer of some kind in that, but Seven could not make any concrete conclusion about it. In fact, she was barely able to focus on one thing at a time as her mind ran around in hysterical, screaming circles.

What if this were permanent? What if she were never able to see again, never able to watch her beloved spouse sleep or breathe or move ever again in their lifetime? Perhaps never be able to look into the faces of any children she and Kathryn might have in the future?

Could she adapt to that? Seven wanted to believe that she could. It was only one sense, after all, and she still had four others, not to mention the fact that she had been Borg for eighteen years before becoming a Human, which meant she could adapt to practically anything. Such a physical flaw, however, would be a difficult burden to bear. So difficult that it could possibly change who she was as a person in some fundamental way. In that event, would Kathryn still love her? Or would she turn away from her, wanting someone more perfect? Someone less ... helpless and afraid.

Seven reined in her increasingly panic-stricken thoughts, knowing that she was dangerously close to losing complete control. Instead she tried to quell her quickened breathing, attempted to slow her racing heart.

She heard the door hiss open, and there was cessation in the conversation. She almost sat up, wondering who it was, but when the discussion resumed, she was disappointed, assuming it couldn't be who she hoped it was. She thought about getting up, and groping her way over to Chakotay's biobed where the others had gathered, joining them to offer her viewpoint on what was going on. She did not have to be able to see to do that.

The problem was she did not know what was going on, and if she tried to speak, she was absolutely certain that she would promptly burst into tears, which would hardly be anything they would expect and certainly nothing that she wanted to do in front of Chakotay or Ro or especially Tuvok. Not even in front of Neelix, who would probably understand her tears better than any of them. She finally decided that she did not want to speak with those people just now. There was only one person she wanted to be with, no matter how many other things had to take precedence on the captain's list of things to do.

Then, she heard the captain, the sound of Janeway's voice rising above the others as she left the sickbay office. It had been the captain who had entered sickbay, and she must have been in the office, speaking to Sek the entire time. Seven tensed but did not move, waiting her turn patiently. She recognized the tone in her partner's words, the pleasant, but somewhat artificial inflection of a Starfleet captain speaking with the lower ranks when she doesn't want to let on how bad things are. Janeway was taking some precious time to offer encouragement to those incapacitated crewmembers under her command, but clearly, her primary thoughts were of getting back to the bridge, and solving the immediate problem.

"Commander, looks like you're on the bench for this one."

"Sorry, Captain," Chakotay replied, obviously trying to joke but not quite pulling it off. "It's a hell of a way to acquire some extra leave."

"We'll try to manage without you," Janeway responded in the same bantering tone, one that did not entirely hide her concern. "You should lie down now."

There was a rustle of uniforms and the Borg comprehended that the rest of the people were moving about sickbay. Seven held her breath, trying to pinpoint where everyone was, finding it difficult to keep track of where people had moved.

"Tuvok, I need you to go up to the bridge," Seven heard Janeway say, the husky voice becoming more formal than when she had spoken to Chakotay. But then, the captain paused, lowering her tone, and Seven detected the honest concern in it. "Are you all right?"

"I am completely fit for duty, Captain," he responded. Was there the faintest trace of indignation in his voice? Seven suspected that she was imagining it. "I shall see you there, Captain."

Another rustle, more footsteps as people moved again, then Janeway's voice came from another location.

"Ensign Neelix, I need you to go to engineering and assist B'Elanna with repairing the sensors. Lt. Ro, Mr. Paris is attempting to fly Voyager out of here manually. It's going to take awhile, and since you're one of our better pilots, I'll need you to relieve him later. Are you up for that?" A pause while she undoubtably received a response of some kind from the Bajoran before uttering a short laugh. "My mistake. Until then, I need you to accompany Neelix to engineering. Neelix, I need you to assist Ro. You're her ears."

"I won't let either of you down, Captain," Neelix said earnestly. Seven wondered if Ro was rolling her eyes.

More footsteps, two, maybe three people, the hiss of the door, then there was only silence and Seven strained to hear anything ... breathing, motion, a heartbeat ... wondering frantically if Janeway had actually left without speaking with her. Had the captain thought she was asleep, that it would be better if she were not disturbed? Grief filled Seven's soul, but before she could give into it, there was a presence immediately next to her bed, one that she could recognize even in the darkest of circumstances.

"Kath-- Captain," she said uncertainly, aware that Chakotay was still in sickbay, not too far away.

"Lieutenant," Captain Janeway said in a low tone, standing next to the bed. "I know this must be difficult for you."

"I will adapt," Seven replied promptly. "I shall require a little time to adjust to being without vision, but then, I will return to duty as well."

"Of course you will," Janeway said calmly.

Another pause, and Seven wondered if her partner had left, feeling tears sting her eyes, then there were hands on her shoulders and she was sitting up, pulled into the forceful embrace of the captain and held as tightly as the smaller woman could manage. It was all the Borg could do not to break down into sobs, but she managed it somehow, drawing strength from her partner, which was offered freely and without reservation. She drew one deep, shuddering breath after another, basking in Janeway's fragrance as if it were oxygen, struggling to surface from this deep pool of misery in order to breathe freely once again.

"Oh, Kathryn," she whispered.

"I'm here, Annika," Janeway responded, her voice ragged with anguish and dismay. "I'm right here."

"I cannot see," Seven said.

"I know," the captain said, impossibly tightening her embrace somehow. "It'll be all right, darling. We'll find a way to fix this."

Seven quivered slightly, bringing herself back under control.

"You must go," she said, trying to be professional ... trying to be the Starfleet officer she was now supposed to be. "The ship requires your presence."

"Yes, it does," Janeway replied softly in the Borg's ear, deep regret evident in every word. "I wish I could stay with you, Annika, but with Voyager in the state it's in, I just can't. Otherwise, I wouldn't leave your side for an instant, my love ... I'm so sorry."

"I know, Kathryn" Seven said, clinging to her. "I will be all right."

But Janeway still did not leave, granting them permission to hold on to each other for a few moments more, and Seven knew that she must be trembling slightly, ashamed of it as she tried to find the courage to let her partner go. She was very aware of the warmth surrounding her, the sensation of bone and muscle and soft skin against her, the stiff material of the uniform which was as familiar to her as her own.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," Janeway promised intently, stroking the back of Seven's neck. "We'll get through this."

"I understand," Seven responded, forcing herself to draw back even as every part of her wanted to hang on forever. "Go, Kathryn." She felt her partner's warm lips brush over her temple, then over her brow.

"Be strong, darling," Janeway said softly, giving her a final squeeze. "I'll be thinking of you every second."

"I will be thinking of you," Seven said quietly, aware that Janeway was not being entirely sincere in her statement. But that would be too much to ask of a captain with her ship in the amount of difficulty Seven thought Voyager currently was in. No matter how much they both wished it were different, sometimes, the ship did have to come before their relationship.

Fingertips lingered briefly on her cheek, then they were gone, and Seven lay back down on the biobed, listening as the footsteps moved briskly across the deck and through the door which exited sickbay. As the door hissed shut behind the captain, the Borg was entirely certain that this was the most alone she had ever felt in her life.

She remained quiet, forcing herself not to cry, yet aware of tears slipping silently from beneath her lids to slide down the sides of her face. She reached up and quickly brushed them away as she recognized the sound of Sek approaching her bed. It occurred to her that as every second passed, she became more aware of what things were simply by their sound. Was this a matter of her other senses compensating for the loss of one?

"Seven," Sek said softly.

"Yes, Counselor," Seven replied evenly.

"Can you sit up?" the hologram asked quietly. "Now that the immediate crisis has passed, and before the next one begins, I think I have a moment to look at your cranial implant. You'll have to wear a patch over your right eye to protect it, but if we can convince your cranial processor to start interpreting data again from your ocular implant, it might be possible to at least activate your Borg vision."

Seven abruptly sat up and turned, her legs dangling over the side of the bed, swaying slightly before righting herself. She had been so deep in despair that this abrupt shift to optimism left her feeling as if the bed were tilting beneath her.

"Proceed," she demanded.

"This might not work," Sek warned. "You must be prepared for that possibility, Seven. I don't have the Doctor's familiarity with your implants."

"I understand," the Borg replied impatiently. "Carry out the necessary procedure."

"Has anyone told you lately that you're becoming a little too Human?" Sek grumbled.

Seven ignored her and forced herself not to flinch as she felt the microfilament probe the implant which framed her left eye. The sensation was not painful, but neither was it pleasant, and it took an effort to remain still as it dug around in the nodules, realigning them.

She blinked abruptly as there was brightness, a greenish-tinged blur.

"I can see," she said, excitement edging her tone.

"How well?" Sek asked sharply.

Seven hesitated. "Not well," she admitted after a moment. "There are no defined shapes or textures, merely areas of darker color against lighter shades."

Sek sighed. "It's a start," she said. "Try to be patient, Seven. This may take a while."

Lt. Harry Kim straightened up in his chair and lifted his arms above his head, stretching out the kink which had developed in his neck as he worked over the mobile emitter containing the Doctor's program. He didn't know why the Doctor had gone to such extremes to protect himself, but he supposed there was a reason.

Of course, they could always go into the ship's database and recreate the EMH, but then, it simply wouldn't be the Doctor. It would be a copy, valid only up to the time of the most recent update which could have been the day before, or as long ago as a few months. Harry didn't know how conscientious the EMH was about maintaining his backup. In fact, he suspected that the Doctor didn't like the idea at all and tried to ignore it as much as possible.

Harry, frankly, didn't blame him. After all, technically speaking, he was a copy of this universe's Harry Kim, who had died during a Vidiian assault on Voyager in the ship's second year in the Delta Quadrant. In this universe, Harry Kim would go back to the Federation with a wife and son, returning to his parents whole and hearty. In his own universe, his parents would wait forever for a son who would never come home.

Harry Kim tried not to think about that very often.

However, it did put him in the unique position of understanding why it was so important that he restore the Doctor intact, rather than going to the backup program. He lifted his head and looked back as he heard Megan enter the living area of their quarters after putting their son to bed. As always, his breath caught in his chest when he saw her, captivated by her gentle nature and her warm heart, feeling the surge of warmth and tenderness rise within him.

"It's been hours, darlin'," she said, with that slow, southern drawl which only manifested when she was very relaxed, very nervous, or very angry.

"I know," he said, leaning back as she settled onto his lap, slipping her arms around his neck. "But it's really important that I get the Doctor back."

"I know," she murmured, snuggling down in his arms. She yawned. "How much headway have you made?"

"Well, I figured out that he did it to himself, rather than by some outside force," he explained. "The diagnostic shows evidence of a controlled shut down rather than an abrupt interruption of the pattern."

"But you can't get him to come out and play?" she asked.

"No," he said, frustration edging his tone. He thought about it. "Every time I believe I have it, the code is altered, as if he's actively preventing me from accessing his matrix." He shook his head. "Whatever caused this, I think it scared him badly."

"So maybe it should scare us?"

"Maybe," he agreed, but not too enthusiastically because he didn't want to frighten her. He didn't fool her for a moment, and she smiled, kissing his temple.

"Why don't you give it a rest and come to bed?" she suggested. "It'll help you think."

He laughed. "I don't believe you're the least bit interested in helping me think," he said, hugging her. "I think, in fact, you're going do your best to make me not think at all."

"But think of how clear-minded you'll be after it's all over," she prodded. She reached over and picked up the portable emitter and examined it. "Besides, he's not going to get any worse where he is."

"No, but the rest of the ship might."

Without warning, the Doctor's arm was abruptly being gripped by Megan's hand as the hologram suddenly materialized. She shrieked and drew back, trying to crawl up onto Harry's shoulders in an instinctive reaction of shock and fear. The operations officer was jolted badly, thrown off guard, and his chair tipped over, depositing him and his wife in a graceless heap on the deck.

Astounded, Kim gazed up at the restored hologram.

"Where am I?" the Doctor said. He glanced around, taking in the comfortable decor of the Delaney-Kim family quarters, then tilted his head as he looked down at the two officers who were staring back at him in astonishment, still lying on their backs on the carpet. "Hmm, I must be in your cabin, Mr. Kim. Thank you for your assistance, but right now, I believe we should have the captain call a staff meeting."

"There's something I need to tell you all."

Janeway stifled a sigh, unhappy at having to call a meeting which dragged her senior staff away from crucial areas of the ship during this crisis, but the Doctor had been most insistent upon it. At least they had him back, and perhaps by taking some time to brainstorm, they could make some concrete progress on solving this problem.

She wondered how her partner was doing, wishing that she had found a moment to get back to sickbay. She remembered how Seven had trembled in her arms, though the young woman had made every effort to be brave, and it had taken a determined effort for Janeway to tear herself away. Only Voyager being in trouble could have possessed her to do it, but it didn't mean she had to like it. Since then, she had been completely involved in engineering, trying to help her crew come up with some way to protect the sensors from the plasma discharges. So far, they would manage to get one back online, it would pick up some data which assisted briefly in charting a course out of the nebula, then the radiation would burn out the exterior unit and they'd have to try another unit with a different form of protection. At this rate, the ship would be well out of the nebula on its own, long before they would ever be able to restore full sensors.

She blinked in shock as Seven of Nine entered the conference room and took her customary seat at the other end of the table, the Borg regarding her with a clear focus in the gaze from her left eye. Her right was covered by a black patch, giving her a most rakish appearance.

"Seven?" she said, mingled joy and surprise in her voice. She half rose out of her chair before remembering where she was and that, perhaps, this was not the time for a reunion, no matter how much she might want to fling herself across the table at her spouse.

"My Borg ocular implant has been restored," Seven explained evenly, but there were tight lines radiating from the corners of her mouth. "My normal vision remains unchanged."

There was a wealth of meaning in those cool words that dampened the captain's joy immediately, and Janeway knew they would have a lot to discuss later. Properly subdued, Janeway dipped her head briefly in acknowledgment and turned her attention back to the meeting, observing the remainder of her staff. Chakotay remained absent in body, but was present via a comm link to sickbay. After all, his mind was still clear and he could still contribute his opinion, if not his actual physical presence. Tuvok sat in his customary place on Janeway's right, while Tom sat next to the empty chair that was normally the first officer's. The Doctor and Neelix were further down, and Sek, who had entered with Seven, took her place next to B'Elanna, who was across from the men. The last crewmember, Harry Kim, finally entered, having been on the bridge checking on something at the Doctor's request. He nodded briefly at the EMH, who looked grim at what was obviously an answer of some sort, and Janeway felt her stomach churn.

The Doctor turned to the captain.

"We really need to get out of this nebula," he said earnestly.

Janeway was currently too tired to laugh in his face or respond with the sarcastic remark she wanted to. B'Elanna was less restrained ... or less exhausted.

"What do you think we've been doing while you've been hiding away in your emitter?" the engineer asked harshly. "Taking in the scenery?"

With what must have been an extreme effort of will, the Doctor ignored the Klingon, maintaining his attention on his commanding officer.

"You don't need a dramatic buildup, Doctor," Janeway reminded him wearily.

He looked vaguely affronted at the accusation, but restrained himself from objecting to it.

"Captain, there is some form of neurogenic radiation in this nebula," he said.

"What is it and why didn't we detect it?" B'Elanna interrupted immediately.

"Maybe because omicron particles blind sensors," Tom offered immediately.

"Not to this extent," B'Elanna shot back, her voice full of derision. Janeway knew how much the Klingon hated the helmsman intruding on her area of expertise. It was something he had done often when the two had been a couple, and while he had gotten away with it then, he certainly could not get away with it now. "We should have detected any physically harmful radiation long before we entered the cloud."

"Not when it's also masked by low level theta radiation," Harry suggested.

"The level three scans should have caught it," B'Elanna noted stubbornly, obviously still outraged at the apparent violation of the laws of physics that even spatial anomalies were supposed to follow. "Long before they burnt out the sensors."

"Can I finish?" the Doctor said, indignity edging his tone. "Neurogenic radiation is not detectable with ordinary scans for the simple reason it shouldn't exist in this form. My internal diagnostic detected the increasing levels of the radiation microseconds before the plasma discharge occurred, and rather than have all my sensing units burn out as the less protected mobile probes had already experienced, I closed my program." He looked vaguely embarrassed. "It took me some time before I could remember the password I used for the emergency shutdown, but since the incident with the Equinox, you know I never shut down without one, now." He shot a look at Harry. "If certain people hadn't kept trying to activate me without it, I wouldn't have kept resetting and it wouldn't have taken so long for me to come back."

Janeway held up her hand to quell any further comment, including Harry's retort. It was late, her staff was tired, and so was she. They needed to keep this simple.

"Doctor," she invited, "elaborate."

"Neurogenic radiation is used in the treatment of brain injuries and has never been known to exist in a free state," the hologram explained. "It requires a manufactured alteration from polaric radiation, utilizing ionic variance streams, but perhaps because of the presence of omicron particles, it had formed here in this nebula to affect, not only living beings, but machinery as well. In truth, any sensing unit in equipment works on the same principle as a living being's senses do. Electrical or similar energy impulses containing information are transmitted along specific pathways to the central processing unit which then interprets it as recognizable data. Normally, neurogenic radiation wouldn't affect equipment, but perhaps when combined with the omicron particles, it now penetrates directly to the processing unit, or the brain's thalamus, where the information is decoded, and disrupts it to the extent whereby the initial data is no longer recognized as even existing." He looked over at Neelix. "Essentially, you can still smell, Ensign; your nose is still detecting scents, but your brain simply can't recognize that you're smelling anything at all."

"Why has this radiation continued to affect us even after we returned to Voyager?" Seven asked sharply.

Janeway shot her a look, catching her eye, and Seven eased back in her seat. The Borg probably didn't even realize her hands were folded so tightly together that her knuckles were white.

"The brain's thalamus has been compromised," the Doctor said, glancing at her. "Once we're out of the nebula, that section of the brain can be repaired, but if I try to do it here, and you're exposed to any further radiation during the procedure, you all run the risk of the damage becoming permanent. I'd rather not gamble on that unless it becomes absolutely necessary. In your case, Seven, the neurogenic radiation probably disrupted your nanoprobes as well, or they might have attempted to repair the damage on their own."

"Not to mention the fact that if we don't leave soon, those plasma discharges will eventually wear down the shields and huge amounts of neurogenic radiation will flood the ship, affecting all the crew and the ship's systems," Harry added. "I checked the readouts at the Doctor's suggestion: every time we're jolted, we lose 5.2% of our harmonic rotation. At that rate, we'll be without shields in three days."

"We can boost shield strength from the warp core we're not using at the moment," B'Elanna pointed out.

"Not with the additional presence of theta radiation," Seven said in an odd tone. "The stronger Voyager makes the shields, the faster the discharges will erode them."

"Apparently, we have a deadly combination in this cloud," Chakotay offered from the viewscreen. "Any single element is easily handled. Together, they've made what would have been a relatively routine rescue mission into something vastly complicated."

"Indeed," Janeway said. "In fact, without the combination, a rescue mission might not have been needed." She looked around at her crew. "Any speculation as to why the aliens died so suddenly?"

"Their shields did not have a rotating harmonic as Voyager's does, and the first plasma discharge the vessel encountered in the nebula, disrupted them completely," Seven remarked.  At Janeway's questioning look, she added; "After Sek restored my Borg vision, we researched the database that was downloaded from the alien ship. It is possible that, because of the sheer number of senses the aliens possessed, they were far more susceptible to this form of radiation than any of us are. Exposure to neurogenic radiation apparently removed access to all their senses instantly, rather than gradually removing one sense over a period of time."

"But the same thing that happened to them, will eventually happen to Voyager's crew," the Doctor warned grimly.  "Once the shields fail, the radiation will flood the ship and all the crew will lose access to their various senses, one after another, until total sensory deprivation is reached. At that point, insanity and death will follow."

There was a shocked silence.

"It's clear we haven't the luxury of time that we thought we had," Janeway said finally, in a grim tone. "We have to increase our efforts in repairing at least a few of our sensors, primarily for navigation." She paused. "We can always escape the nebula in minutes simply by going to warp, but if anything appears in front of us, it wouldn't be detected before we've collided with it. If it's large enough, such as another vessel, or an asteroid, we would be destroyed. However, engaging the warp engines is a viable option that I am fully prepared to take if the shields show immediate danger of collapse. Until then, however, we will continue to try to work our way out as we have been, using manually-directed partial impulse."

She glanced around, noting the weariness in their faces. They were already well into the latter stages of the gamma shift and they simply couldn't keep going like this. "You're all relieved for six hours," she ordered. "Tom, Harry, B'Elanna, go get some sleep. Take Ro with you; she's covering the helm right now. I'll relieve her."

"Captain, if I may," Tuvok said, offering his opinion for the first time. He had been sitting so quietly, she had almost forgotten he was there. "You require rest, as well. I can cover the conn for the duration of the rest period. Lt. Culhean can take the helm. He is skilled enough to fly manually."

Janeway opened her mouth to argue, then reconsidered. There was no real need for her to remain on the bridge or even in engineering at this point. She had to let her people do their jobs, and there was also the fact that Seven probably needed her. This was a perfect opportunity to spend some time with her.

"You're right," she allowed, which surprised the hell out of him, if the slightly raised eyebrow was any indication. "Six hours. But call me if there's significant change in the shield strength or if the level of effect of the plasma discharges increases. If there's any hint of imminent shield failure, your orders are to go immediately to warp and clear the nebula. We'll take our chances with there being a clear path back to normal space."

"Of course, Captain," he said evenly.

She dipped her head. "Dismissed."

Seven lingered near the door, waiting for the captain as the room cleared, and Janeway touched the Borg briefly on the arm as they entered the bridge and headed for the turbolift. But Seven remained silent, and as they got off the lift on deck three to move briskly to their quarters, the captain kept quiet as well, not wanting to intrude until the young woman was ready to talk. Once inside the cabin, the unpleasant glow from the nebula made Janeway wince, and she instructed the computer to darken the viewports until the swirling dust and gases outside were barely visible.

Seven was still not saying anything, going directly into the ensuite and shedding her uniform. She activated the shower and stepped under it, not inviting Janeway to join her. The captain hesitated, somehow understanding that Seven required space at the moment. Stifling a sigh, she changed out of her uniform, tossing it onto the lounger, and wearily crawled into bed. She lay on her back and waited, needing to touch base with Seven about the situation, but not quite sure how to guide her partner through it ... or if she should even try. Perhaps this was another incident where she should just let the young woman work it out on her own.

She yawned, forcing herself to stay awake until Seven came out of the ensuite. Periodically, plasma discharges would send a little jolt through the ship, making the bed vibrate slightly, and the captain felt each one as a pointed reminder of the situation they were in. She sighed as Seven finally joined her, all flushed and warm and fresh smelling from her shower, and Janeway wrapped her up in her arms, hugging her tightly as the young woman settled down against her. They lay in silence for awhile, and eventually, the captain realized that she had to say something.

"I'm glad you were able to be released from sickbay," she offered softly. "I've been worried about you."

Perhaps it wasn't the most insightful point to make, but it seemed to do the trick since Seven promptly burst into tears, sobbing into the captain's shoulder. Janeway cuddled her close, kissing her forehead gently and whispering words of comfort and love, the content not nearly so important as the tone.

"It's all right, darling," she whispered finally, cradling the young woman as the sobs eventually lessened. "I'm right here."

"I am frightened, Kathryn," Seven said, sniffing hard. "I know that the Doctor says that he can restore my vision, but what if he cannot? What if I can never see normally again?"

"Then we'll deal with it," Janeway promised. "Together." She stroked the long blonde hair soothingly. "I know this isn't easy for you, but remember that whatever happens, I'm going to be there for you, and I'm always going to love you, Annika. Nothing will ever change that."

Seven swallowed hard. "Always?" she said after a long moment, in a very small voice.

Janeway felt her heart twinge. "Always," she said with all the decisiveness she could muster which, as a Starfleet captain, could be decisive indeed. "Did you worry about this, darling? That if your loss of vision was permanent, I would somehow change my feelings for you?"

"I would have to alter certain things in my life," Seven whispered. "I would not be as I was."

"None of us are as we were, Annika," Janeway told her. "Not even from moment to moment. We're constantly evolving and changing." She hesitated, knowing this was important and that she had to handle it correctly. "Annika, if I had been the one affected, would you stop loving me?"

"Never," Seven said. She hesitated. "That is different."

Janeway dared to chuckle a little. "How?"

Seven bashfully buried her face into the captain's neck. "It just is," she muttered unconvincingly. Yet Janeway knew she had made her point; that they both loved as deeply as the other ... they had been through too much to believe any differently.

However, she also recognized that, while Seven's insecurities about their love came out rarely, they usually had to do with the perception of self ... and the possible loss of that self's 'perfection', undoubtedly a leftover from her time in the Collective. Of course, considering that the Borg tended to terminate drones that demonstrated any kind of flaw, perhaps it could be expected from the young woman.

Not that Humans were much better. Society had always set unrealistic or improbable standards for individuals. In the early part of Earth history, it was of the body; various physical standards that were aspired to and anyone that failed to reach them was denigrated, both by themselves and by others. Eventually, society evolved from believing that what one looked like physically determined one's worth as a person, but even in the 24th Century, it wasn't entirely different ... it had merely switched to one's intellect determining one's worth.

Janeway was well aware that there were still incidents of genetic manipulation in the Federation ... even though it was highly illegal ... with people attempting to make their children intellectually superior, trying to enhance 'nature'. She supposed that true enlightenment would come when one was no longer judged at all, whether physically, spiritually, or intellectually.

"Kathryn," Seven whispered sadly, breaking the captain's chain of thought, "It is unbearable to me that I can no longer see you. I can no longer see the red in your hair or the blue of your eyes, or the detail of tiny lines around your mouth. Everything is so flat and dull and green. I know that I can adapt to having only Borg vision, or even not having vision at all, but I shall miss seeing your face so very much."

"Annika, try to wait until this is resolved before you start mourning your loss," Janeway suggested softly. "It will only take a few days before we're clear of this nebula. The Doctor will mend all the away team's injuries, including yours, and we'll be back on course for the Alpha Quadrant."

Seven inhaled shakily. "But..."

"No," Janeway interrupted gently, but firmly. "You're tying yourself up in knots on a specific set of 'maybes', Annika, while ignoring the very real options that I've just offered." She rested her cheek against the woman's forehead. "Darling, I know this is hard for you ... perhaps in a way that I simply can't imagine, but nothing has been determined yet." She squeezed. "You're usually more positive than this."

Seven sighed. "It is hard to be positive now," she said.

"Then, try not to be so completely negative about any possible outcome," Janeway offered, kissing the top of the Borg's head. "At least, not until we see how this plays out." She paused. "After all," she added with forced cheerfulness, "we might need to go to warp, Voyager could collide with an asteroid and we could all die instantly in an antimatter explosion when the core breeches."

Seven was silent, no doubt contemplating that scenario.

"You are just trying to make me feel better," she said finally, accusingly, but her body had relaxed significantly against the captain's, while her expression had become less strained.

Janeway chuckled. "There's always a bright side, Annika," she insisted.

"Very well," Seven replied, her tone lightening perceptibly. She yawned, like a kitten, and Janeway felt her snuggle closer. "I am tired."

"We all are, darling," the captain told her. "Sleep. We'll be back at this soon enough."

Seven nestled her head on the captain's shoulder. "I love you, Kathryn," she mumbled.

"I love you, too, darling," Janeway said. "Everything will be all right."

But Janeway lay awake long after her partner had succumbed to her drowsiness, wishing that she had spoken up on the bridge and never allowed Seven to accompany Tuvok on the rescue mission. No matter how unprofessional it would have been.

B'Elanna Torres watched her lover surreptitiously as they got ready for bed, wishing she knew the right thing to say or do that would make this all right for the Bajoran. Not that Ro Laren was revealing much at the moment, but B'Elanna knew this had to be bothering her companion in a way that wasn't readily apparent. Indeed, being deaf had allowed the stoic woman to be even more taciturn than she normally was, and that didn't make her any easier to live with.

"Laren, do you want something to eat before we go to bed?" she tried. She waited patiently until Ro noticed the light flickering on the padd she kept near her. It was keyed to the sound of the Bajoran's name and recorded what was said and by whom, printing it out in text form for her to read. Eventually, Ro noticed it, read it and looked over at the Klingon.

"No," she said. She tried to be casual about it, just as the Klingon was trying to be, but B'Elanna could see that she was disconcerted by this delayed communication. "Why don't you shower first? I'll take care of myself after you're done."

B'Elanna nodded, slightly disappointed that Ro hadn't offered to share, but realizing that perhaps the Bajoran needed a little space at the moment. She went into the ensuite where she activated the sonic shower, stripping off her uniform and tossing it in the replicator. There was a time when she would have just dumped the garments on the floor and retrieved them the next morning to recycle and clean them. Now that she was sharing quarters with the Bajoran, who was a lot more disciplined in her personal habits than the Klingon, B'Elanna made more of an effort to pick up after herself.

Respect, she thought as she stepped into the shower unit, living together is nothing more than respecting each other's space.

She did have to allow, however, that Ro was also making an effort to compromise wherever she could. After moving in, the Bajoran tried to keep more regular hours, tempered her habit of brooding at the slightest upset in her life, and instead, tried talking with the Klingon about whatever was going on. It didn't always work, but the attempt at concession was evident on the woman's part and B'Elanna appreciated it.

The Klingon relaxed as the sonic vibration did its job, removing the grime and dust of over twenty hours of hard, physical labor from her body, before finishing it off with a warm rinse. She loved this unit which was a combination of hydro and sonic applications. Her old quarters on deck nine had boasted a unit which had been sonic only, and after six years, this was a luxury indeed.

Simply another advantage in moving into shared quarters, she thought as she dried herself off. She patted Ro on the shoulder as they passed each other in the doorway, then climbed into bed and waited for the Bajoran, listening to the sounds in the ensuite. She realized that Ro had decided to take a bath rather than a shower, which was interesting since B'Elanna could not remember the other woman ever doing that before. Perhaps it was Ro's way of comforting herself, or maybe she simply wanted to soak away the smell of sickbay from her body.

B'Elanna decided that she was analyzing this far too much. Relationships were not like warp engines ... for one thing, they were rarely that straightforward, and if she kept trying to second guess her partner, she'd only get the both of them in trouble. Since this was primarily Ro's problem, she needed to let the other woman dictate how she needed to respond to the situation, rather than try to force her to speak, which could develop into a confrontation with her.

Sometimes, she was really glad she had agreed to participate in regular sessions with Sek, the ship's counselor. It kept her from driving herself crazy with 'what ifs' or making conclusions based on what she imagined Ro was thinking. She sighed and relaxed, actually dozing by the time the Bajoran finally joined her. The Starfleet officer curled up on her side, her back to her lover, facing the bulkhead, huddled around her middle.

On the other hand, B'Elanna didn't need to be an expert on relationships to interpret that one. She reached over and carefully put her hand on Ro's back, stroking it lightly, not to draw her over, but simply to let her know she was there. Eventually, the Bajoran relaxed and rolled over, surrendering to the Klingon's warm embrace.

"I thought Klingons didn't tolerate weakness," she muttered, nestling her head on B'Elanna's shoulder.

Surprised, B'Elanna reached down, tipping Ro's head up so she could see the movement of her mouth. Fortunately, Ro was a quick study when it came to adapting to new realities, particularly when it came to herself, and she was fairly proficient at reading lips by this time.

"We don't, necessarily," the engineer said, speaking slowly. "But why are you so quick to perceive this as a weakness?" She kissed her softly, drawing back to look deeply into the woman's angular features.

Ro searched the Klingon's face intently, considering what her companion had said.

"Because," she responded, "it's a physical defect. It's my understanding that Klingons are very uncomfortable with that."

"First of all, I'm not all Klingon," B'Elanna pointed out. "Second of all, it's a 'defect' only if you allow it to give you a reason not to function as well as you can. Instead, you should consider it an advantage. Your piloting is far more focused because you're not distracted by any noise ... and if you don't like an order, you can honestly say you didn't hear it."

Ro chuckled, almost in spite of herself, after 'hearing' this. "Leave it to you to figure out how to use something like this to your advantage when it comes to following orders," she said, her dark eyes warming perceptibly.

"That," B'Elanna noted with a certain amount of satisfaction, "is the Klingon way. In fact, Kahless himself says that one should not assume a physical disability is automatically a weakness." She paused. "'A true warrior will kill you quickly with the hand he has, not the one you notice is missing'," she quoted.

Ro smiled, reaching up to touch her lover's cheek. Obviously, the engineer had managed to chase away some of the woman's discouragement over the situation.

"What if we try for some nonverbal communication for now?" the Bajoran suggested softly, shifting so that she was on top of the engineer.

"Why not?" B'Elanna said, smiling as she drew the Bajoran close. She didn't know if Ro had caught what she said, but she clearly understood what she meant, the taller woman's mouth coming down over the Klingon's possessively.

Very possessively, B'Elanna noted. There was a touch of desperation in the Bajoran's embrace, almost as if she were doing this not necessarily to make love, but rather to forget for a time what was going on. The Klingon could easily understand what could motivate such a desire, and was more than glad to go along with it. There had been a few times when she had just needed to feel ... to not have to think at all ... and Ro had accommodated her. It was only fair that she do the same for the Bajoran.

Indeed, it was even fun. Ro was very aggressive while in this mood, far more than she was normally, her hands firm and demanding, her mouth ardent as she moved over B'Elanna, loving her with exquisite power. Another might have been put off by it, but the Klingon found it absolutely delicious and responded to it eagerly, though she was careful to temper her desire to match Ro's so that when it was all over, they were both thoroughly sated and relaxed.

"Prophets, I needed that," Ro whispered in the sweet warmth of afterglow, looking up at the Klingon who covered her with protective comfort.

"I know," B'Elanna replied, blowing a droplet of sweat off the tip of her nose. She smiled faintly, dipping down to brush her lips over Ro's before drawing back so that the other woman could see her speak. "So did I. Of course, we're supposed to be resting. We're back on duty in only a few hours."

"This was restful," Ro countered with a grin. "Perhaps we should spend the rest of our off duty period 'relaxing' like this."

B'Elanna laughed and kissed her again. "Sleep," she suggested, shifting until she was pressed up against the Bajoran's side, nestling her head on Ro's shoulder, her arm and leg draping possessively over the slender form of her lover.

Ro made a soft sound of amused agreement, her arms wrapping warmly around the Klingon's torso, snuggling close in this warm nest of bodies and blankets. B'Elanna sighed happily, completely relaxed, and was on the verge of dropping off when she felt Ro stroke her hair lightly.

"I'm glad you're here, Lanna," she whispered. "I wouldn't have wanted to go through this alone."

B'Elanna responded by tightening her embrace a little, raising her head to look at the Bajoran in the eerie light from the nebula outside their viewport.

"I love you," she mouthed silently.

Ro smiled. "I love you, too," she said.

B'Elanna returned the smile and lowered her head back onto Ro's chest. Before long, they were both asleep.

Seven drew herself reluctantly from slumber when the computer's voice gave a second, more insistent, announcement of the time, demanding that the inhabitants of the quarters wake up. Since they had not been interrupted during their rest period, Seven assumed that the situation remained unchanged. Beside her, Janeway groaned and clumsily rolled out of bed, padding naked to the ensuite where she turned on the shower. Seven recognized that her partner was moving somewhat automatically at this point, going through the motions without thinking about them. The Borg realized that if she were still tired, even with her Borg stamina, her partner must be absolutely exhausted, but that was something that could not be helped during a crisis. Slipping out of bed without pausing to make it, Seven dressed quickly in a fresh uniform, aware that they had little time to prepare for their shifts and determined to make every second count. Distastefully, she adjusted her eyepatch over her right eye to protect it, then went over to the lounger to retrieve Janeway's discarded garments.

She recycled the captain's uniform, fastening the pips and comm badge to it, and left it on the sink counter for her spouse, before going out to the living area. She didn't need to attend to Jake, their Irish Setter, because he, along with Voyager's complement of children, had been taken to the ship's Safe Haven, as was the case during every crisis. Instead, she immediately replicated some high energy food for both the women, along with some coffee for the captain and some juice for herself. Janeway smiled briefly as she came out of the bedroom, accepting the mug of steaming liquid and taking a long sip as she sat at the kitchenette counter where a bowl of cereal waited. There would have been a time in their relationship when the captain would have refused to eat, or would have argued with Seven about the waste of time, but now she simply ate the granola quickly and mechanically. Seven stood up on the other side of the counter while she ate her own, neither feeling the need for conversation. Both were very familiar with this routine which provided the most efficient way for them to prepare for a swift return to duty, and after more than a year of marriage, they had it down almost to a science.

Within minutes, they had dumped the dirty dishes in the recycler, scooped up some mouth fresheners and were on their way out the door. At the end of the corridor, Janeway reached up and touched Seven briefly on her cheek.

"You take good care of me, darling," she said, just as she got onto the turbolift. "Thank you."

Seven smiled. Despite the fears which remained, the conversation she had with her partner before they slept had eased her mind considerably. She felt strong and confident once more, certain in the knowledge that she had someone who would not let her down when a situation became difficult. She dipped her head as the doors slid shut on the captain, the lift immediately ascending to carry Janeway to the bridge. Seven waited a few seconds for the next car, instructing the computer to take her to deck two and the science labs where she wanted to do some research on a question which had been puzzling her. What she discovered fascinated the young woman, and after requesting the current location of B'Elanna Torres, she immediately took the turbolift down to deck thirteen. She wanted to run an idea about the deflector array by her friend's expertise before pursuing it any further, but if she were correct, it might allow the ship to travel faster through the nebula,.

"You're suggesting some form of radar," B'Elanna said thoughtfully, upon hearing the Borg's idea. The Klingon had been at work for an hour or so already, stripped down to her tank top, bare arms streaked with dust and grime from the sensor unit she had just finished replacing. She leaned against the bulkhead, one foot propped up on the ship brace, her forearm across her knee, a spanner dangling casually from her hand. She reached up with the other and wiped the perspiration from her brow, leaving a fresh streak of dirt across her olive skin.

"By channeling subspace carrier waves through the deflector array, they would bounce back off any object and provide more warning than visual navigation does," Seven remarked. "That would allow Lt. Paris to increase speed to half impulse and cut down the time for our possible exit from the nebula by approximately two thirds."

"Assuming it works," B'Elanna pointed out.

"Yes," Seven responded. "However, I see no reason why it would not. It does not tie into the sensor array at all, and the signal detector can remain on the inside of the ship at all times, protected by the shields."

"The sensors were protected by the shields," B'Elanna pointed out.

"Different principle altogether," Seven replied patiently. It wasn't like B'Elanna to be so contrary ... or rather it was only like her to nitpick when she was tired and cranky. Obviously, the rest period had not been as effective for the Klingon as it had been for Seven.

B'Elanna looked resigned. "Okay, I'll keep the rest of my engineering team repairing the sensors," she said. "You and I will try to cobble together a radar unit."

"Should we not bring this to the attention of the captain?" Seven asked.

"Let's see if we can make it work, first," the engineer returned.

The pair set up shop in a lab on deck twelve after gathering the equipment they needed. As they constructed the rudimentary form of sonar, B'Elanna kept glancing at the young woman curiously. Finally, Seven felt compelled to inquire about the expression on the Klingon's face.

"You have something to ask me?" she invited.

B'Elanna quirked an eyebrow. "I'm not sure if I should," she admitted.

Seven considered that. "You wish to speak about my ... vision," she guessed.

"Only if I'm not intruding," B'Elanna said delicately.

Seven was astounded. Such tact was unlike the Klingon, and she realized that her friend had been going through some considerable changes lately, not just in terms of growth in her professional life, as the two gold pips were testament to, but in her personal life as well. It also occurred to Seven that the two women had drifted apart somewhat since Ro had come into the engineer's life. The Borg supposed that was a somewhat natural occurrence, but she regretted it. B'Elanna used to be her confidante, the one person she could talk to when it seemed like she couldn't speak with Kathryn about what was bothering her. Now, that role had shifted somewhat to Sek, and while they were always helpful, Sek's views tended to be very professional and objective, rather than the outrageous, but endearingly personal views of the Klingon.

Sek, for example, would never have suggested that Seven throw things at Janeway whenever the captain annoyed her, as the Klingon once had.

"You would not be intruding, B'Elanna," Seven said, glancing at her wistfully. "You are my friend."

B'Elanna colored faintly, looking pleased. "Yeah," she said. She worked at the radar unit a little more. "I guess we've let that slide a little bit lately."

Seven nodded. "I did not mean to," she said gravely.

"Neither did I," B'Elanna allowed. "Sometimes life is like that, however." She nudged the Borg with her elbow. "So how are you doing?" she added gently. "I know it can't be easy for you."

"It is not," Seven allowed softly. "However, Kathryn and I discussed it, and it is illogical for me to engage in an emotional display over this. There will be time for that when, and if, it becomes a permanent condition."

"It's not going to be permanent, Seven," B'Elanna assured her. "We're going to get out of this Kahless forsaken bit of space and everything will be fine."

"Until the next confrontation or encounter," Seven pointed out.

B'Elanna grinned at her. "That goes with the territory," she pointed out.

Seven smiled back at her faintly, and continued her work on the power unit of the device. It pleased her that the easy comradeship she and the Klingon once shared had returned, just as comfortable now as it had been before. She wasn't even entirely sure where and when they had lost it ... nor how much they had lost ... until they finally got it back again.

"You can still see now," B'Elanna said thoughtfully.

"Through my ocular implant," Seven explained. "It is like a flat screen in my mind. I do not 'see' as much as I 'view'. It is two dimensional, in shades of green. My depth perception is somewhat faulty, while my right side has been left vulnerable due to the lack of that eye's peripheral vision."

"At least, you're not completely blind," the engineer pointed out, no doubt in an effort to put a positive spin on the situation.

Seven, remembering the utter blackness of no sight, and the fear it had generated within her, felt a shiver go down her spine. "No," she agreed slowly. "I am not completely blind."

B'Elanna must have picked up something in the tone, staring at her for a moment.

"That bad?" she asked.

Seven considered it. "It should not have been, perhaps," she allowed. "I do not know why it was so difficult, but it was. It does occur to me that since becoming Borg, I have always been able to see around me, even in extremely low illumination where Humans, or even Klingons, cannot. It is something that I had taken for granted, and the period of time when I could not see at all was ... terrifying."

B'Elanna blinked. "I guess you've discovered that you're afraid of the dark," she suggested.

"Perhaps," Seven allowed reluctantly.

B'Elanna reached over and patted her on the shoulder. "It'll be fine, Nik," she said comfortingly. Despite the fact it was obviously nothing more than a platitude, and certainly nothing that the Klingon knew for certain, Seven discovered that she felt better just by hearing it.

"The processing unit is complete," she said.

"I'm done over here, too," B'Elanna said. "Let's see how it tests out."

A few more hours passed as they refined the device, until they were getting a clear signature back without deviation and no hint that the radiation was affecting it at all. It was possible that it was such a basic and primitive device, far less sensitive than Voyager's external sensors, the mobile probe's 'eye' or even a living being's senses, that the radiation simply couldn't disrupt it. B'Elanna immediately called the captain down to take a look at it.

"This is very good," Janeway said approvingly. Seven noticed that the captain looked weary, and she hoped that this would provide her with a rapid end to the situation. "Feed the information through to the helm and explain how it works to Mr. Paris."

As B'Elanna went off to install the unit, the captain grasped Seven's arm and briefly took her aside. For the moment, the command mask slipped to reveal the young woman's spouse rather than her commanding officer.

"This was good work," Janeway said. "How did you come up with the idea?"

Seven quirked an eyebrow. "Since both the ship and I are as 'blind as bats', it occurred to me that perhaps we should attempt to navigate as they do through the dark," she said simply.

Janeway stared at her. "Where did you hear that expression?" she asked in an odd tone.

"Chakotay," Seven responded promptly. "While we were talking about our current situation in sickbay. As Sek altered my cranial implant, he mentioned that the ship was 'as blind as a bat'." She paused, thinking about it. "When I asked what bats were, he told me they were flying mammals, then changed the subject, as if afraid that he had offended me in some manner. In any event, the phrase must have stayed with me because when I awoke earlier, the thought was present in my mind that if bats, whatever they were, are blind, how do they fly?"

Janeway had that half-amused, half-astounded expression on her face. "You realize, of course, that bats are not actually blind," she pointed out.

"I realize that now," Seven said. "I researched the mammals in the ship's database, as well as other creatures, such as whales and dolphins. They all use a form of sonar or radar to safely negotiate through their environment, rather than relying on their visual sense. I assumed that the same principle could be applied to us while in a nebula, and when I presented it to B'Elanna, she agreed to help me construct a unit."

Janeway glanced around, noted that the two women were alone for the most part, and took a step closer, though she kept her arms crossed over her chest. "Have I ever told you that I absolutely adore the way your mind works?" she murmured.

Seven felt a corner of her mouth lift. "I do not believe so," she said, amused. "Not in those terms, in any event."

"Well, I do," Janeway responded. "If this works, we should be out of the nebula long before the radiation erodes the shields."

Seven sobered. "That would be acceptable," she said. "I would not like to see you affected the way those of us who left the protection of the ship were."

A flash of what might have been pain crossed the captain's face, and Seven took a step closer, herself, reaching out to put her hand on her partner's forearm. "I did not mean to upset you," she added softly.

"You didn't," the captain assured her. "I just ... I wish you hadn't been a member of the away mission."

Seven considered that. "Someone had to be," she pointed out. "I was the logical choice to accompany Tuvok."

"Perhaps," Janeway said. "But I don't have to like it." She looked away, taking a step back. Seven allowed her hand to drop to her side, recognizing the shift in her partner from woman to captain. "I need to get back to the bridge. You should assist B'Elanna with the installation of the radar unit, and when we exit the nebula, she'll probably need your help to finish repairing the sensor array."

"Yes, Captain," Seven said obediently.

Janeway shot her an unfathomable look and turned, heading for the turbolift. Seven watched her go curiously. Apparently, they had things to discuss about away missions and what role Seven was going to play in them. It was a topic they had encountered before, but like other things in their life together, it was clear that it had not been completely resolved.

Shaking her head, the young woman went off to help B'Elanna.

They cleared the nebula at 0326, early the next morning. It was a jubilant Harry Kim who saw the first star glimmering through the dust and gases like a beacon in the night, and a sort of weary cheer rose from the bridge crew. They had been working steadily for over eighteen hours, catching meals on the run as they gingerly picked their way out of the spatial anomaly. Janeway ordered full impulse until they were a reasonable distance from the cloud, then brought the ship to a full stop so they could begin repairs. B'Elanna wasted no time in dispatching the engineering teams to bring the sensors back online, replacing every unit and bringing in the old ones to utilize them for backups in the future. It meant space walks and work on the outside of the hull, as well as the equipment replicators all working overtime. The crew would be on short rations for the next little while to make up for it.

The members of the away team, and the subsequent follow up team, were ordered immediately to sickbay where the Doctor and Sek set to work restoring their lost senses. Sek heaved a sigh of relief hours later as she watched the last patient, Neelix, make his exit from the medical center. With the sensor array repaired, and a beacon dropped to warn others to steer clear of the forming nebula, things finally seemed to be returning to normal. Voyager would probably be getting under way soon, and even as the thought crossed her mind, Sek felt the very subtle surge in the deck plates beneath her feet, as well as the rising hum of the warp core as the ship accelerated beyond light speed.

Yet, the hologram remained disturbed.

She didn't know why. Several internal scans indicated that the neurogenic radiation within the ship had never reached levels that would cause any damage to either crewmembers or machines, and B'Elanna had sent a team to do a polaric sweep of every deck just to make sure it was completely cleaned out. There was absolutely no need for the ship's counselor to be concerned.

For all that, however, the sense of dread remained, and Sek found that she was on knife's edge as she worked at finishing up the reports on the away team's medical condition. Formless, nameless, the sensation was very wearing on her system, and she was unable to shake it because she was completely unable to figure out what was causing it.

When Voyager was abruptly knocked sideways, and the muffled thunder of an explosive impact rumbled through the ship, Sek was almost relieved in a way. She knew instinctively that this was the source of her dread, and finally, she could act on it rather than merely feel it. However, she couldn't tell what the danger was, at first.

Picking herself up off the deck, she hastily made her way over to the console and keyed in a tap to the main comm system. Only in sickbay did they have the authorization to monitor internal ship communications, with the understanding that the medical staff needed to be aware of what was going on during an emergency. It had taken a while for the Doctor to convince the captain of this, of course, but now it was standard operating procedure.

"What's going on?" the Doctor said in that irritated tone he acquired whenever he was experiencing the holographic equivalent of being scared. He barreled out of his office, a furrow between his dark brows.

"I'm not sure," Sek responded, not looking at him as she scanned the various comm channels. "Listen."

There was more muffled noise as further explosions occurred, and the comm system was filled with cries for help and reports of damage from various decks. It was Janeway's voice that Sek tried to concentrate on, filtering her out of the rest of the background noise.

"Janeway to Kes. Kes, respond!"

The Doctor looked shocked. "Kes?"

The Ocampa, who had been a member of the crew for four years, and had grown up on this ship before eventually leaving it as she evolved into a higher lifeform, had apparently returned. From all indications, she was not in a good mood, and Sek was almost overwhelmed by a flood of emotions that did not belong to her; fury, fear, hatred, remorse ... and a touch of insanity. She swayed, grasping the console tightly as the Doctor reached out to support her.

"Sek? What's happening?" Frustration and apprehension were equally mingled in his tones.

Another explosion ... and a report of a hull breach in section twenty on deck eleven from Ro Laren, who obviously had wasted little time in getting back on the job after leaving sickbay earlier in the day. There was clear anger in Janeway's tone as she responded, having reached the end of her patience with this intruder, regardless of who it might be.

"Force fields. Security to Deck Eleven. Full weapons."

"Engineering," Sek said, not knowing how she knew. "She's going to engineering."

"Sek?" The Doctor was completely confused at this point.

"Bridge, force fields are not holding." That was Ro, again. She sounded very annoyed.

"Bridge to Engineering. Intruder alert!" Janeway warned.

Sek didn't wait to hear anything more. She quickly keyed in an emergency medical override to the transporter system, knowing that she had to get to deck eleven. She rematerialized just outside the main entrance to engineering and lunged through the doors.

Inside, she saw both Seven and B'Elanna working at opposing engineering stations, the rest of the crew having been evacuated. B'Elanna was keying commands furiously into her console, and Sek understood, somehow, that the engineer was attempting to shut down the warp core. There was someone embracing that throbbing pillar, drawing power from it, and even from behind, the Ocampa was instantly recognizable to the hologram. Then, Kes lifted her hand toward the Klingon, energy crackling around her, and Sek didn't hesitate.

"No!" she screamed and moved faster than she had ever moved before, launching herself across the room to intercept the blast intended for B'Elanna. It sizzled around her, but as neurogenic energy, unlike neurogenic radiation, it was not anything that could affect the hologram directly.

It would have killed B'Elanna, however, and Sek was very aware of that fact as she rolled to her feet and glared furiously at the being who turned away from the warp core to stare back at the hologram.

Kes, the woman that Sek's matrix had been based upon, was much older than she had appeared when she left Voyager, and wore a far more worn and weary face than Sek possessed at the moment. The Ocampa had obviously been to hell and back, and the bleakness in her eyes, the sheer, overwhelming grief, was more than any being, no matter how evolved, should have to bear.

"Everything will be all right," Sek said soothingly, holding her hands out before her in a display of peacefulness to the other woman.

She was aware of more people coming through the doors of engineering, of Ro Laren leading a team of security personnel, all carrying heavy duty compression rifles. The hologram shot a warning glance that way, and to her gratitude, the Bajoran stopped, motioning her team to remain at standby. Seven and B'Elanna also left the immediate area, quickly moving over to position themselves behind the protection of the security force, but obviously were too intrigued by the situation to vacate engineering altogether.

"Who ... what are you?" Kes demanded, staring at Sek with consternation and what might have been a little fear in her gaze. For whatever reason, she seemed unable to recognize that Sek was a hologram.

Sek raised her head. "I am the Emergency Holographic Medical Assistant," she said. "And the ship's counselor. Kes, I don't know why you're doing this, but you don't have to. Let us help."

"Help?" Kes was astounded. "I've come here to save you from them,"

"Me?" Sek responded, confused.

Obviously, Kes was a little confused, as well, because she shook her head, putting her hand to it.

"No, not you, me," she said. "Myself. The person they abandoned."

Sek frowned. "No one abandoned you, Kes," she said gently. "Remember, you left because it wasn't safe for you to stay here and because you needed to find your own place in the universe. No one wanted you to leave, but you had to make the choice."

"It was her," Kes said angrily, pointing at the captain who had finally made it down from the bridge, and had just entered engineering, accompanied by Tuvok. Janeway had her hand on her phaser, but it was not drawn. "She took me from my people, filled my head full of stories about exploration, about travel..." Kes put her hands to her head again, as if it pained her. "They were all lies."

"They were not lies," Sek said carefully. When the hologram had been created, her matrix had incorporated Kes's personality profile, including her personal history. She drew on that shared history now. "In fact, remember what it was like on Ocampa? We couldn't wait to explore the surface, to discover what lay beyond what we knew. That happened long before Janeway or Voyager, long before even Neelix. In fact, they rescued us from the danger we found, and it was our choice to accompany them."

"Yes ... no..." Kes was wavering and Sek dared to take a step closer. "It's Janeway. She encouraged me to develop my mental abilities. I wasn't ready. What I found ... I couldn't control it. It scared me. I had nowhere to go. I thought of returning home to Ocampa ... but I had changed too much. I knew they'd be frightened of me. I knew they wouldn't accept me, but they'll accept her."

"Who?" Sek pressed gently. "Who will they accept?"

"My younger self," Kes said.

The knowledge of what the Ocampa was attempting descended upon Sek in a burst of horror. "You were going to use the warp core to go back in time," she exclaimed. She shook her head. "You can't, Kes. If your younger self returns to Ocampa, then you will never evolve on Voyager in order to go back and save yourself. It can't be done, or rather, if you try, all you'll do is cause a temporal paradox. It will solve nothing in this time line."

Janeway cleared her throat. "Kes," she said, her voice infinitely tender. "You said you had nowhere to go. But you do. Stay here, with us."

"No," Kes said. "I can't. I don't belong here. I need to be with my own people!"

She raised her hand toward the captain and Sek jumped to intercept it, grasping her wrist and wrenching it down.

"You said you had the ability to get home, but you were afraid the Ocampa wouldn't accept you. Why?" Sek demanded, drawing the entity's attention.

"Because I'm incomplete," Kes said, her voice pitiable. "I've lost myself."

"How?" Sek urged gently. "What have you lost?"

Kes' eyes widened. "I remember!" She reached up and placed her hand on Sek's cheek. "I lost you," she explained. "When I boosted Voyager beyond Borg space, I couldn't bear the people I loved going on without me, so I sent a part of myself along."

It was an astonishing bit of information, but deep inside, Sek recognized it as truth. In a way, it was what she had always felt.

"You did send a part of yourself with them," she said. "That's the part I now possess. It's who I am, what gives me my sense of self. It was an essence in your personality file that Harry and the Doctor used to create my matrix, not the simple data code. I would never have become sentient without it, no matter how long I existed. It simply wouldn't have been possible. It was that part that allowed me to tap into things that no hologram should have been able to, including, not so long ago, forming a psychic link with a creature who was trapped and afraid."

"That was me," Kes explained, her eyes widening. "I was trapped between realities. You helped me escape, though I never knew it was you."

"Nor did we know who we were helping," Sek said, wonder filling her tone.

Tears stained the wrinkled cheeks. "You are the best part of me," Kes said, her voice a sob. "The sense of wonder and hope and innocence and youth. Without it, I could not comprehend all I experienced; I could not accept it. All these years were so filled with confusion ... and anger. I buried the memory. I'd almost forgotten."

Janeway closed the distance between them. "Does it really matter which home you return to?" she asked carefully.

Kes lowered her head. "I am incomplete," she said.

Sek took a deep breath. "We both are," she said, reaching over to take Kes's hands in her own. "We always have been. But now, it's time to become whole again." She shot a look at Janeway. "Clear the area, Captain," she instructed.

Startled, Janeway obeyed, waving her crew back even as she retreated to the doorway, but she obviously wasn't happy about it, opening her mouth to ask questions and demand answers. There wasn't time, however, because even as the captain started to speak, it began, and as the sensation of light and energy swirled around the two forms, Sek felt the dissolution take place within her, unable to hear the captain's words.

Sek returned her gaze to the eyes of her other self, understanding filling her as they proceeded to become one. It was beyond anything that she had ever felt or experienced before, in either form, and she felt herself dissolve as the thoughts, memories, emotions and experiences of both beings merged into one sense of self.

She was dying ... and being reborn at the same time ... reforming into the entity that she had been and was not but would be again. Vaguely she was aware of the ship and the people around her, of the emotions and life energy that had nurtured and protected her, granting her a peace and a serenity to accept this reunion with herself.

With the last, fleeting thoughts that belonged to Sek alone, before they flowed away to join with the thoughts of Kes, she hoped that the friends she had made as a hologram would remain in her new existence. Then, the holo-matrix dissipated in a show of light and sparkles, and only the being who was the amalgamation of both remained.

The life energy required to complete the merger was immense, drawing not only from the entity which Kes had become, but from all of the beings surrounding them, the neurogenic energy of their minds absorbed and enhanced. Initially, there was fear, but once the crew of Voyager understood subconsciously what was asked of them, they gave of themselves freely, from the cool logical assessment of Tuvok, to the fiery emotion of B'Elanna, to the startled shock of Tal Celes on deck six who had no clue what was going on ... everyone on the ship participated in this birth, in the re-creation of a whole being who had been torn asunder three years earlier.

And when it was finally done ... when the psychic powers that Kes had once wielded with little control were exhausted and drained, when the holo-matrix had faded in a final glorious blaze of energy, when there was nothing left but only a petite, naked blonde female lying on the cold deck ... Captain Janeway cautiously knelt beside her and touched her comm badge.

"Janeway to sickbay," she said, her voice full of wonder and astonishment at what had occurred. "Doctor, we have a medical emergency in engineering."

The captain swallowed hard, gingerly putting her hand on the slender shoulder, the skin soft and warm and very real.

"One of our own has come home."

Sickbay was darkened to night standard as Janeway entered. She glanced around, wondering if the Doctor had turned himself off, then realized he was sitting in the office, a solitary pool of light in the darkness. She shot a quick glance at the huddled form on the biobed, which did not stir at her presence, then went into the office to join her CMO. He didn't seem to realize she was there at first, leaning back in his chair, hands steepled before him, looking up at the ceiling thoughtfully. She paused, observing him intently, wondering how much this was affecting him.

No more than the rest of us, she decided finally.

"Doctor?"

He blinked, looked down at her with what seemed surprise.

"Captain."

Janeway tilted her head slightly, studying the somewhat dazed expression on his face.

"Are you all right?"

He shook his head briefly. "I believe," he began, hesitated, then continued, "it's the first time I ever wanted to become intoxicated."

Despite the circumstances, she laughed briefly and sat down in the chair opposite the hologram.

"If you'd like, I'll have a drink with you," she offered ruefully. "Heaven knows, I could probably use one at this point."

He stared at her a moment, then reached beneath his desk and pulled out a bottle of brandy and a glass. She was astounded, and he grinned wryly at her expression.

"A piece of advice from your friend, Dr. Pulaski," he explained as he poured a finger of the amber liquid into the glass and handed it to her. She smiled warmly at him, lifted the glass in salute, and took a warming sip. They sat in companionable silence for a while, then she gestured with her chin at the figure huddled in the biobed.

"So who is she?" she asked quietly.

"I don't know," he responded with ragged honesty. "Both. Neither. The whole thing is beyond any database this poor matrix has access to."

She stared at him intently. "Is she ... still a hologram?"

"No," he said, his face troubled. "But she's not quite Ocampa anymore either. At least to our scanners. It's possible that what she is now simply lies beyond our current equipment's ability to measure or categorize." His eyes were troubled as he looked out at the small woman in the bed. "She told me, just before she settled in for the night, that she remembers both lives, but that she also remembers dying and being reborn as an entirely new being in that moment in the engine room."

"I notice that she's young again," Janeway said. "She looks about two or three years old. Does that mean she's starting her Ocampa nine-year lifespan over?"

The Doctor shook his head. "It could mean anything," he offered. "She may exist as long as a hologram without degrading at all. Right now, everything about her remains uncertain."

Janeway inhaled deeply. "This is amazing," she said.

"It is, isn't it?" he agreed idly. He tilted his head. "However, one thing is clear."

"Which is?" the captain invited.

"Kes has come back to us," he said.

Janeway considered that conclusion, her thoughts troubled.

"But what of Sek?" Janeway countered after a moment. "I don't mean to give the impression that I'm unhappy with Kes's return ... not at all. But Sek was a unique individual in her own right, a being that I had grown to both like and respect. As much as I welcome having Kes back, I certainly don't want it at the expense of our ship's counselor."

The Doctor grew thoughtful. "I don't think it's that simple," he said finally. "Sek was who she was primarily because of what Kes had left behind, that indefinable essence that we somehow tapped into when creating Sek's matrix. In a way, Sek was an incomplete Kes, just as Kes had become incomplete without the part she had sent along with us. By ... 'merging' ... they've finally become a whole being again."

He paused, regarding her steadily. "This is not another 'Tuvix' incident, Captain," he offered gently. "This is not two separate beings forced into one. This was one being who had been separated, and now has finally been united again."

She took a breath. Had she become that transparent lately, that even the Doctor could detect what she was thinking and feeling?

"Are you sure about that?" she asked pointedly.

He hesitated, then shook his head. "No," he admitted. "But it is what I believe."

She stared at him for a moment, then shook her head, raising her hand to rake fingers through her auburn mane. "I'm not sure what I believe any more," she muttered.

"Maybe a good night's sleep will help," he offered dryly.

She smiled. "Is that your medical opinion, Doctor?" she asked.

He looked wistful. "At this point, I'm wondering if it's all I have left," he said.

She wanted to pursue that, but a sudden surge of weariness reminded her that if she tried at the moment, she could possibly make things worse. Instead, she reached over and patted him on the arm.

"You're probably right," she said. "About me going to bed, I mean. It's been a long couple of days."

"Very eventful days," he agreed.

"You should probably get some rest too," she offered.

"I'm a hologram, Captain," he responded. "I don't require rest." He made an attempt at looking superior and only succeeded in appearing vaguely lost.

"Of course," she said, shooting him a compassionate look. "Have a good evening in any event."

She finished her drink, then nodded formally to him before rising to her feet and leaving the office. She wondered if the Doctor now felt isolated, if he was filled with a sense of being alone? For two years, he and Sek made a team, both sentient holograms, both designated as crucial members of the Voyager family. That would change with Sek merging with Kes and becoming a being who was no longer a hologram.

Did he feel that he was, once again, the only one of his kind?

Janeway reached up and rubbed her eyes, feeling the grit in them. It served her right, she told herself wryly. The last thing she remembered before all this had occurred was being bored by such a quiet area of space. This was a harsh reminder of how quickly things could change, though it seemed that it had all turned out well in the end, particularly if it meant Kes had come home again. Yet, it remained to be seen who and what Kes/Sek would become. The captain wondered if this new being would take a new name? Kesek? Sekes? Or would she simply be 'Kes' again, returned once more to the young Ocampa everyone had known and loved ... and perhaps tried to recreate in Sek.

Her quarters were quiet when she entered, and she realized that Seven must have already gone to bed. She made a note to retrieve Jake from the Safe Haven, not having had a chance before the encounter with Kes. Of course, the couple would still be busy over the next few days. She remembered how B'Elanna had cursed long and loud about the mess the shuttle had made on deck nine, not to mention how much damage Kes had caused on her rampage to engineering. It meant more double shifts for everyone as they repaired the ship, and for the time being, Voyager would have to maintain station-keeping right where it was.

So much for any long-term dividends our recent shore leave might have generated, she thought idly as she went into the bedroom. By the time Voyager had everything back to normal, the captain would probably have to initiate another Condition Blue just to make up for it. She glanced at the form huddled beneath the covers of the bed as she passed by on her way to the ensuite. She and Seven had not shared more than a minute together since they had returned to duty earlier the day before ... or had it been two days ago when they had last breakfasted together? Time had a bad habit of getting away from them when one crisis after another occurred.

Groaning softly, she stripped off her uniform and tossed it in the recycler before activating the shower. The warm water made her even sleepier, and she finished quickly, finding one of the oversized towels with which to dry off. She retrieved her cleaned and pressed uniform from the replicator shelf, replaced the pips and comm badge, and set it on the sink counter next to Seven's blue and black one. She paused briefly, smiling as she touched the two pips on the collar of the Borg's sweater, one gold, one black, then returned to the bedroom where she crawled into bed, the sheets already warmed from Seven's body heat.

Wrapping herself around the lanky woman, she nestled her head on Seven's shoulder and sighed, closing her eyes. Seven did not wake, but she did stir, sliding her own arms around Janeway and pulling her close. Feeling safe and secure in this warm haven, Janeway drifted off, surrendering to the slumber which had been tugging so insistently at her for hours.

She became aware of being observed almost as soon as she regained consciousness, the insistent demand of the computer announcing morning watch irritatingly loud in her ears, and she opened her eyes slowly, unsurprised to find Seven looking down at her. The Borg had her head resting in her mesh-covered hand, propped up on her elbow, her pale blue eyes scrutinizing Janeway with all the intensity of a exobiologist discovering a new and particularly fascinating organism.

Janeway made a sleepy sound of amusement, blinking as she raised her arms and stretched. "You're staring," she said, yawning.

"Because I can now," Seven said quietly.

The events of the past few days crashed in on the captain and she shifted so that she was turned more toward her partner.

"So you can," she said gently. She reached up and stroked Seven's cheek, searching the intent gaze. A hundred questions and comments crossed her mind, but all she said in the end was; "Do you like what you see?"

"Very much so," Seven remarked, and it seemed that her eyes grew darker and bluer, the color of sky and sea, expanding slightly as Janeway peered into them. "You are, without question, the most incredibly beautiful sight in the universe, and being able to look at you is not anything I shall ever take for granted again."

Janeway blushed. "Sweet talker," she accused, but she loved every syllable of it. Unlike other romantic partners she'd had who might have said similar things for effect, Janeway knew that what Seven said was, absolutely and completely, the truth as she knew it. This quality made any comments about the captain's appearance or existence far more profound than if anyone else had said them.

She rested her hand on Seven's neck, feeling the pulse throb beneath her palm, her thumb rubbing softly along the line of the young woman's jaw.

"I think this is the only time we'll have to ourselves for awhile," she said with a touch of regret. "Double shifts are all we have to look forward to for the next few days ... we'd better take advantage of the fact we both happen to be in our quarters at the same time."

Seven raised an eyebrow. "That would be acceptable," she said, leaning closer.

Janeway felt the familiar rush of love and desire flow through her at the touch of Seven's lips on her own. Moving softly over hers, the Borg's mouth was like finding a pool of cool, sweet spring water after wandering for days in a parched landscape, an oasis in the desert, and Janeway made a low sound in the back of her throat, sliding her arm around her spouse's neck, pulling her close. The Borg's firm, supple body pressed against the captain's, warm, smooth skin sliding over hers, gentle swells and curves welcoming her to them like a homecoming.

They finally parted to draw breath, and Janeway realized that Seven had kept her eyes open the entire time.

"Afraid to close them?" she asked gently, brushing her lips tenderly up the Borg's nose, then across each eyelid before trailing down the high bone of her left cheek.

"Afraid to miss a moment of being with you," Seven responded softly.

"Ah," Janeway said. "Then perhaps we should take a little extra time this morning, just to celebrate that." She reached up and keyed the touch panel at the head of the bed, contacting the bridge. When her first officer responded, she informed him that she and Lt. Seven would be reporting to duty in approximately two hours. Chakotay made no indication he found that unusual which suited the captain just fine.

She sought out the Borg's mouth again, sensing how much her partner needed her now, how much she, herself, needed to be with Seven. She exhaled slowly as Seven eased her back onto the bed, the young woman's body shifting over to half cover her as they indulged in these slow, lingering, melting kisses that she thought she could dissolve in.

She made another sound, one of pleasure, as Seven's right hand began to slip over her body languidly, down her leg, then up over her hip, caressing along her ribs and stomach, slipping over the small swell of her breast which the Borg squeezed lovingly, chafing the nipple with her palm. They continued to kiss, and Janeway slipped her hands over the young woman's satiny form, over her shoulders and back, fingertips bumping slowly over each slight protrusion of spine, then back up again to slide down her arms, enjoying the feel of muscle which rippled lithely beneath the wonderfully silken skin.

Her head went back as Seven kissed over her chin and down the line of her throat, nibbling gently at the hollow at the base. Swallowing hard, Janeway licked her lips restlessly as she felt Seven's tender kisses trail up the slope of her breast, then cover the sensitive tip with warm moisture, the tongue dancing lightly around the nipple. She whispered the Borg's name, murmuring words of love and desire as the sweet mouth teased and cajoled the sensitive flesh with loving skill, causing chills of excitement to shiver through the captain. She bent down, kissing the young woman on the temple, hugging the beloved blonde head to her body, then she arched as she felt the gentle fingers rake lightly through her triangle of hair, the middle finger pausing at the top of her crease.

"Annika," she breathed, waiting for what seemed an eternity. "Oh..." Her head went back, her mouth open in a silent cry of pleasure as her partner stroked her lightly, each touch designed to set her aflame, each careful caress intended to love her utterly. Her legs parted of their own accord, moisture flowing to bathe the loving fingers, then she groaned loudly at the slow, sensuous penetration, probing, provocative. Janeway's knee bent to give her leverage so that her hips could rise to meet this most delicious of exploration.

She cried out again, surging against the fingers within her, quivering from the thumb swirling around the sensitive outer flesh over and over again as Seven's mouth continued to feast avidly on her breast. Each wave of pleasure seemed stronger than the last until suddenly, she was there, on the brink, and for a moment, she fought it, wanting to prolong it forever ... before abruptly being flung into the abyss, spasming with exquisite delight which shook her, then ever so gently, lowered her back into the arms possessing her. At some point, Seven had left her intense attention of Janeway's breast, raising her head to capture the captain's mouth instead, kissing her so completely, the older woman wasn't entirely sure where she left off and her lover began.

Slowly, slowly, Seven released her, allowing the pleasure to subside and granting the captain a moment to gather up the scattered bits of herself. The Borg's lips were gentle as they brushed over Janeway's face, tender kisses, warm and loving, softly exploring every curve and line of the captain's features.

"I adore you," Janeway husked, once she could talk again.

"I love you, my Kathryn," Seven assured her, drawing back slightly to look down at her, a faint smile curving the full lips. "Are you aware of how beautiful you are when you climax?"

Janeway laughed. "I've never had an opportunity to look in a mirror at that particular moment," she said, nuzzling the Borg's chin. "Not even when we had one over the bed. Nor do I think I would be particularly interested in doing so."

"A pity," Seven remarked. "Your face glows when you reach that instant of gratification. You hide absolutely nothing of yourself in those few seconds ... your expression is completely open to me."

Janeway kissed her. "I hope so," she responded softly against her lips. "I'd hate to think I'd have a command mask on while you were loving me so well."

Seven inhaled slowly. "It was interesting," she admitted. "I do not believe I ever truly, observed the event before. But now, I am paying the strictest attention to everything I see."

Janeway sobered, drawing her fingertips lightly along the side of the Borg's face. "I suspect you will for some time," she said. "Just as I'm sure Ro will be taking special delight in what she hears and Neelix will make a point of taking extra time to smell, not just the roses, but everything he comes in contact with. A person never truly appreciates something until it's lost."

"That is correct," Seven agreed. "Fortunately, we all have the opportunity to appreciate what we have."

"By the way, I didn't tell you how sexy you looked in that eyepatch," Janeway added playfully. "Just like a pirate."

Seven bit lightly at her nose. "No more pirates," she begged. "It is such trouble when we encounter them."

"Still, I found you very sexy," Janeway insisted. She drew the Borg's head down, kissing her as hungrily and passionately as she was capable of.

"Let me show you how much."

Seven of Nine felt her heart slow perceptibly as she lay there, the blood still singing through her veins, the last tremors of pleasure continuing to echo throughout her body. She groaned softly as Janeway crawled her way back up the Borg's lanky form, pausing frequently along the way to nuzzle that bit of flesh, or caress this patch of skin, which she apparently thought she had neglected until now.

Seven knew for a fact that there was not one millimeter of herself that Janeway had not pleasured in one form or another over the past two hours, and she was surprised that she had actually survived it. She inhaled deeply as the captain finally reached her goal, her mouth covering the Borg's with tender regard, the young woman able to taste her own flavor lying lightly on the captain's lips and tongue. When Janeway finally drew back to look down on her spouse, there was a decided expression of smug satisfaction on the classic features.

"You will probably slay me one day," Seven informed her gravely. "Even with Borg enhancements, my body cannot continue to endure such sustained periods of undiminished pleasure."

The captain considered this pronouncement for a few seconds, analyzing it from all angles. "Sissy," she concluded finally, and looked even more smug, if that were at all possible.

Seven had no idea what that meant, but she allowed for the playful tone and smiled. "We must report for duty," she said, not because she wanted to, but because she knew how much time had passed since the initial computer call for morning watch.

She saw the captain glance up, her eyes widening as she took in the time on the chronometer set in the headboard.

"Damn, you're right," Janeway said, rolling off the lanky Borg and out of bed.

Vastly disappointed, but having only herself to blame for the abrupt turn of events, Seven followed her partner into the ensuite, activating the shower as Janeway retrieved fresh towels.

The water was wonderfully hot as they washed, the captain indulging in a few extra moments of play that neither woman could probably afford, before quickly getting out to dry off and dress in their uniforms. Seven was aware of Janeway casting some surreptitious glances her way, and she raised an eyebrow at her partner who was brushing out her hair.

"Yes?"

Janeway colored faintly. "Nothing," she said. "Just appreciating how good you look in that."

"Ah," Seven replied noncommittally. But she was pleased and she straightened her shoulders beneath the band of blue as she left the bathroom, conscious of her partner's eyes following her.

She strolled out into the living area, missing Jake's presence, and made a mental note to herself to pick him up at some point in the near future and return him to their quarters. Though she found it doubtful that he would enjoy having to leave the children. He was always restless for days after spending time in Safe Haven with the other non-active crewmembers on Voyager, and she picked up a padd from the work station on her way to the kitchen, scheduling some extra playtime for him with the crewmembers who requested that duty in the hopes that would take the edge off his expected rambunctiousness.

She glanced at the chronometer and realized they were so late now, a few more minutes would hardly be of significance, and proceeded to prepare coffee in the appliance rather than simply replicating it. She also programmed western omelets into the replicator pattern buffer, causing Janeway's eyebrow to rise when she came out of the bedroom and saw what Seven was doing.

"Do we have time for this?" she asked, even as she started to set the table.

"At this point," Seven noted, "it seems illogical to hurry."

"I guess you're right," Janeway responded and turned away, tapping her comm badge to inform the bridge that she and her spouse would be delayed a little longer in starting their day.

Not that anyone would object, Seven knew. She and Janeway worked longer and harder hours than most of the crewmembers on the ship, and taking a few extra hours in the morning was hardly anything worthy of note.

She activated the replicator and carried over the omelets, along with a stack of toast, back bacon and some hash browns. It was more the type of breakfast they enjoyed during their days off, but since it was entirely possible that they would not be able to share a meal or anything else together for the next few days, it was prudent to take full advantage now.

"Was the Doctor able to answer your questions about what happened to Sek?" Seven asked as they took their places at the table.

Janeway shook her head. "He's guessing," she said. "I think we all are until Kes wakes up and tells us what essentially is going on with her."

Seven contemplated her breakfast. She had not known Kes at all, really, only Sek and it saddened her to think that the hologram was now gone. She appreciated the ship's counselor for the unique technological being she had been, and no matter how others, including her spouse, considered this to simply be a reunion of one separated individual, for her, it was more a matter of her friend and confidante being gone. Indeed, it bothered her considerably that everyone seemed to be referring to the new being as Kes, while Sek was quickly becoming nothing more than a memory.

Janeway looked up at her, chewing a mouthful of egg slowly, as if sensing her partner's disquietude. "Darling, I believe that the person you knew as Sek still exists as Kes," she said after she had swallowed. "She'll just be a little different now."

"I will adapt," Seven said.

Janeway smiled wistfully. "I'm sure you will," she allowed. "I just want you to give her a chance."

Seven dipped her head. "I know that you care a great deal about Kes..." she began.

"I cared about her when she was Sek, too," Janeway noted quietly. She paused, taking another bite of her breakfast. "What has happened is a little confusing, Annika. We'll know more once she's up and talking again."

"Yes," Seven said. She took a sip of her juice. "How long do you anticipate Voyager's repairs to take?"

"B'Elanna told me four days," Janeway responded. "Unlike other engineers I've known, she doesn't exaggerate her repair schedules. Fortunately, the ship's underlying structure wasn't really damaged that much, and aside from the major hull breach on deck nine, the rest is fairly straightforward bulkhead restoration. Nothing that a lot of elbow grease won't fix."

"It was considerate of Kes," Seven noted, "to be so discriminating in her rampage."

Startled at the sarcastic tone, Janeway raised her eyebrow. "Seven..." she began warningly.

"She tried to kill her, Kathryn," Seven said flatly. "You were not there. If Sek had not intercepted the neurogenic blast, Kes's attack would have burned out B'Elanna's mind."

Janeway considered that, nodding. "All right, I can see where this is a little more than merely getting used to having Kes back," she said, in that tone she used when she was being so reasonable, it set Seven's teeth on edge. "But let's wait until we can speak with her directly, before making any judgements on what long-term affects her actions might have caused."

"Very well," Seven said, allowing the topic to drop. After all, as Janeway had pointed out, it was still too early to tell how or what she should be feeling about the female recovering in sickbay.

"How are you?" Janeway said, obviously making an effort to change the subject. "Any lingering effects from your surgery?"

"No," Seven said. "My vision is now perfect." She raised her eyes to meet Janeway's. "It is ... a relief."

Janeway nodded. "I suspect that's a bit of an understatement," she said dryly. For a second, there was a brief flash of pain that crossed her face. "I should have requested that the away teams wear full protective environmental suits," she added, almost to herself. "I knew there were unidentifiable types of radiation around."

"None that our scans indicated would have any affect on an away team," Seven pointed out. "All protocols were followed, Kathryn."

"But I should have listened to my heart," Janeway said. "I knew something was terribly wrong even before we got the distress call. I could sense it."

Seven did not comment on what she suspected was complete hyperbole. Kathryn was quite good at finding reasons for feeling guilty after the fact, and if there weren't any, she would somehow concoct them out of thin air.

"No one sustained serious damage," the Borg offered. "I believe that you are creating aggravation for yourself from what essentially turned out to be nothing of consequence."

"Nothing of consequence?" Janeway repeated spiritedly, using her fork to push around her breakfast. "What do you call being blinded?"

Seven considered the bitter question. "Inconvenient," she decided finally.

"Now, you're just being Borg," Janeway accused. "Don't pretend now that it didn't bother you, Annika. I know better." She paused. "I shouldn't have let you go on the mission," she added in a low tone, almost to herself.

Seven stared at her, astounded. "Excuse me?" she said.

"I should have ordered you not to go," Janeway insisted stubbornly. It was almost as if now that her real thoughts had slipped out, she was going to take a position and hold it no matter how tenuous her footing was. Seven regarded her for a moment, then took a deep breath.

"Kathryn, it was your concern at the beginning of our relationship that there would be no special treatment accorded me," Seven said, finding her own reasonable tone. From the expression on the captain's face, she didn't like being on the other end of it any more than Seven did. "So far, we have managed to maintain an acceptable balance between our personal and professional lives. However, now I am a Starfleet officer, and you must remain objective, more than ever, about my role on this vessel. When I was outside the chain of command, we possessed a certain leeway regarding this situation. We do not have that while I wear this uniform."

"I'm afraid I'll never be objective when it comes to your being hurt," Janeway said softly. "You can't ask that of me."

Seven sighed. "I know. However, you must act as if you are, just as I must act as if I am not afraid on occasion," she said, as she chewed thoughtfully on her final bite of toast, washing it down with orange juice.

Janeway studied her plate unhappily and Seven's heart went out to her, realizing how much this was troubling her partner, despite knowing she could not change how things had to be. Prodded by the need to make it right, the young woman got up and moved around the table, reaching out to stroke the back of the captain's neck. Janeway took a shuddering breath, then stood up so that Seven could wrap her up in her arms, hugging her tightly.

"Somehow I thought that when you joined Starfleet, everything would automatically fall into place with us professionally," the captain admitted softly, her head tucked under the Borg's chin. "But instead, it's become more difficult than ever to balance the professional and the personal."

"You are just suddenly more aware of my being under your command when you see me with a rank," Seven pointed out. "I am no longer Seven of Nine to you, I am a Starfleet lieutenant on your ship." She drew back, placing her finger under the captain's chin and tilting back her head so she could look into her eyes. "Kathryn, we have not changed, only the perception the uniform creates. Do not allow that to affect you."

Janeway grinned wryly. "I don't know that I can help it affecting me," she admitted. "In fact, I remember the very first time I ever saw you in one. You were this beautiful ensign skulking about Voyager as it was being built in Utopia Planitia and I was making my first inspection tour. I didn't know it was you, of course, and I didn't remember it until after the temporal incursion, but I was so drawn to that cute blonde standing in the conference room. Why do you think I asked for your opinion rather than that lunk of a security officer?"

"I assumed it was your natural instinct to want to complicate my mission," Seven suggested dryly. "Captain Braxton insists that you and temporal incursions are a recipe for disaster." She paused. "Of course, Kathryn, none of it really happened."

Janeway winced. "Please don't argue temporal mechanics with me," she said. "It gives me a headache."

"Nor do I believe you were 'drawn to me' at all. You were engaged to Mark Johnson at the time," Seven added.

"I'm trying to be romantic, Annika," Janeway informed her.

"It is not working," Seven responded, smiling faintly. "In any event, we do not have time. We really do need to report for duty."

Janeway sighed. "When did you become more conscientious than I about duty and protocol?" she asked.

"Since I learned that we shall have to work long hours and varied shifts for the next few days in order to complete repairs to Voyager," Seven said. "The sooner we begin, the sooner they will be complete and the sooner we will be able to spend time together again."

Janeway smiled and kissed her gently. "You're absolutely right," she said. She tightened her embrace, then released her. "I need to finish my breakfast."

Seven nodded. "I must prepare your thermos," she agreed.

"After I get my cup of coffee," Janeway insisted, snatching up her mug and moving briskly over to the counter. Seven regarded her indulgently, then gathered up her dirty dishes and deposited them in the recycler, before claiming the pot of coffee and filling the silvery cylinder which existed just for this purpose.

"I will program the coffee maker to brew another pot in eighteen hours," she told Janeway who was carrying her empty dishes to the recycler. The Borg keyed in the proper commands to the small touch pad on the appliance after adding a fresh batch of ground coffee to the receptacle. She also programed a stasis field to activate once the new coffee was made so that it would remain fresh in the pot. "Remember to stop by to refill your thermos."

"Thank you, darling," Janeway said. It was not definite whether they would not see each other or not for a few days, of course, but past experience in crisis situations made them plan for the worse case scenarios, not any unexpected moments of togetherness. The captain finished draining her mug, then headed for the ensuite to finish her morning ablutions.

Seven used a sterile cloth to clean the table, then joined Janeway in the ensuite to clean her teeth. They kissed lovingly at the door, taking an extra few moments to do it properly in the event it would have to hold them for a few days, then Janeway headed for the turbolift which would carry her to the bridge.

Seven made sure that her eyes followed her partner's every movement before the doors slid shut behind Janeway. She would never take her vision for granted ever again.

There was still far too much left for her to see in the universe.

Epilogue

Ro Laren drifted by sickbay, glancing in at the Doctor who was speaking quietly with Kes. The female did not seem to be aware of the Bajoran's presence, something that Ro took particular note of. Indeed, everything she heard indicated that this new being had not retained any psychic abilities at all, leaving some to speculate that Kes had somehow burnt out the area of her mind which controlled them during the reunification with the Sek hologram.

Ro didn't know what to believe necessarily, particularly since she didn't have enough information at this point. Those special, extrasensory abilities were what had caused Kes to leave in the first place, and if they were indeed gone for good, it would probably only be to the Ocampa's benefit.

And perhaps the ship's as well. They were still cleaning up the damage, and while Kes was properly remorseful, there were those in the crew who were not as quick to forgive and forget. Whatever it meant in terms of the woman fitting back into Voyager's crew, or what role she would now play, it would probably not be as easy for everyone to accept Kes as it had been the first time. There was the very real knowledge present in a lot of people's minds that she could be, depending on the circumstances, a possible danger.

There was also the fact that had the holographic Sek had not intervened, B'Elanna would have been killed by Kes, slaughtered as casually as a passing thought by the diminutive woman.

That was not something Ro would soon forget, and as she drifted away from the medical center, the Bajoran made a note to keep more than a subjective eye on the newcomer. Only time would tell whether Kes's return was the best thing that could have happened for Voyager, or would lead to nothing but trouble.

In either event, Lt. Ro Laren would be ready for whatever happened.

The End

•  This is the 38th installment in the Just Between Series.

• Title provided courtesy of RaptorOne.

• The events of this take place just after the episode of The Haunting of Deck Twelve at the end of Voyager's season six. From this point, the JB series has completely departed from the events in the television show.

• This was posted on June 22th, 2000.

Just Between Alpha & Delta
G.L. Dartt

Seven of Nine, late of the Borg Collective and currently a Starfleet officer on USS Voyager, regarded the final test results with a certain ambivalence. Part of the young woman was quite satisfied in having assisted with what would undoubtedly be the Intrepid class vessel's ticket back to the Federation, keenly aware that her crewmates, who had been lost for close to seven years in the Delta Quadrant, missed their families and home desperately. Another part of Seven, however, was quite apprehensive. She could not remember much of her life before being assimilated at the age of six, and while she had adapted to life here on the sleek starship, she was not as certain that she could adapt to a life in the Alpha Quadrant.

She inhaled slowly, and turned to look at her companion. Lt. B'Elanna Torres was a smaller, more solid young woman than the Borg, her dark hair and eyes a direct contrast to Seven's lighter features.  B'Elanna boasted a proudly ridged forehead which denoted her partial Klingon heritage, and as chief engineer of Voyager, she had been in charge of the slipstream drive project. Now that it was ready for the final installation phase, she, too, appeared somewhat dazed at the results.

"It works," B'Elanna said in an odd sort of tone. "Every test we give it, every situation we put it through, it still works. I really think this is it, people. It's finally ready."

The third member of the team, Lt. Harry Kim, grinned broadly, his handsome face bright with anticipation and glee, waving his hands as he stalked about the upper level of Voyager's bridge which had been simulated in holodeck two. "When can we install it?" he asked. "I can't wait to see my folks again."

Unlike the two women who did not really have established ties to the Federation, he had been fresh out of Starfleet Academy when Voyager had been lost. Even though he had made a life for himself on the starship, marrying a fellow officer, and becoming a father to a rambunctious little boy, he was one of those crewmembers who had never given up hope for a quick return to the Alpha Quadrant.

"We must first clear any major structural remodeling with the captain," Seven reminded him coolly. The fact that the captain also happened to be the young woman's spouse of more than a year, held no weight with how she would give a report that would present a difficult decision for the commanding officer to make.

"Plus, assuming the captain gives permission, it could take a week or so to make the final adjustments to the warp manifold," B'Elanna added.

"Why wouldn't the captain give her permission?" Harry asked, staring at the women blankly.

Seven frowned faintly. "You are aware of the reason as much as we are, Lt. Kim," she said.

He looked stubborn. "Dr. Brahms is sure it will work," he insisted.

He was referring to the fourth member of the slipstream project, the leader of a team which had actually consisted of several physicists working for the Theoretical Propulsion Group out of the Utopia Planitia shipyards. Dr. Leah Brahms was the senior design specialist in charge of the facility, and she had been offering guidance, suggestions and all her experience to aid the Voyager crew in their project. Arriving via a special communications relay which had only recently been established between the ship and Starfleet, her help had been invaluable, and it was unlikely that the three Voyager crewmembers could have accomplished what they had without it.

"Brahms is sitting safe and snug in her research facility back on Mars," B'Elanna pointed out. "Her stake in whether this will work or not is purely theoretical. We're the ones who are going to be stuck with the consequences."

"We're talking about going home," Harry said, crossing his arms over his chest, looking at the other two in astonishment. "Don't you care?"

"Of course we do, Harry," B'Elanna retorted, annoyance coloring her tone as she lounged in her chair at the helm. "But that doesn't mean we should ignore all the implications involved."

He took a breath, and visibly forced himself to calm down. "You're right," he said, obviously attempting to be conciliatory to the engineer. "There is a risk, but then, there's always a risk when you're talking about new technology. There was a risk when Zefram Cochrane jumped into that beat up old missile, and fired himself off Earth to attempt the first warp drive. If he hadn't, however, the Vulcans never would have contacted us, and for all we know, you and I wouldn't exist now."

B'Elanna rolled her eyes. "Now you're getting into temporal mechanics, Starfleet," she said, using her old nickname for him, and seeming oblivious of the fact that she, too, now wore the gold pips of the organization, rather than the provisional insignia she had originally accepted. An ex-Maquis, B'Elanna had been given the role of Voyager's chief engineer almost seven years earlier, and Seven knew that, although the captain had initially had doubts about that decision, the Klingon had never let her vessel down, actually exceeding the promise she had displayed during her brief tenure at Starfleet Academy.

"What do you think, Seven?" Harry asked, appealing to the Borg.

Seven brushed some dust off her sleeve, noticing idly that the blue and black uniform she now wore did not resist dirt the way her old biomesh outfits used to. She considered the question carefully.

"What I think is irrelevant," she said finally. "It will be the captain's decision."

"Like you don't have any influence on that," he scoffed.

She speared him with a look that indicated he was skirting dangerously close to territory that perhaps he should not be exploring. Her personal relationship with her wife was both passionate and loving, but when it came to the professional areas of their life together, it was a delicate balance of compromise and cautious evaluation. When Seven had first come on board Voyager, she had been disdainful of the chain of command, finding it inefficient and not anything she wanted to be a part of. Once she became involved with the captain, however, she began to learn just how command worked, how much of it relied on faith and loyalty, on intangibles that were not precise and straightforward. The difference between a good captain and a great one was difficult to define, but even so, she knew without question that her spouse was one of the 'great ones'. She also discovered, along the way, how very important Janeway's command was to her, how vital it was to her sense of self. There was a fine line between the woman and the captain, and Seven was very careful not to violate one for the sake of the other ... or rather, she tried not to very often.

She was not certain that this was one of those occasions.

"If she asks for my opinion," she said finally, "I shall share it with her. I do not think it would be prudent for me to offer it otherwise."

"What is your opinion?" B'Elanna asked curiously, staring at her friend.

Seven inhaled slowly. "If it were merely myself involved, I would not hesitate to install the drive," she admitted. "However, it is not just myself, and there are many variables which must be considered before any decision like this should be made." She raised her eyebrow at the Klingon. "What of you?"

B'Elanna offered her a bit of a reckless grin. "You know me, Seven," she said. "Full speed ahead and damn the torpedoes."

Seven needed a moment to decipher that phrase. "You would install the device," she said.

"Oh, yeah, in a minute," the Klingon replied, waving her hand airily. "But like you said, it's just not us involved here. There's an entire crew to consider."

"Everyone wants to go home," Harry said, looking at them as if they had lost their minds. "Who wouldn't?"

B'Elanna didn't bristle as she would had anyone else challenged her like that, but then, the Klingon had always held a soft spot for the young man, ever since the pair had been singled out by the Caretaker and sent to the Ocampa where they had to make their escape. Almost seven years later, they remained friends in a way that B'Elanna had not experienced with other crewmembers.

"Lots of people, Harry," B'Elanna pointed out. "Not everyone has two loving parents waiting to dote on their only son like you do. Nor does everyone have particularly good memories of the Federation and Starfleet. Don't forget, a good thirty percent of the crew is Maquis."

"I think they'd want to go home, as well," he countered.

"Maybe," B'Elanna agreed. "But whatever they choose, they'll each have their own individual reasons for making that choice."

"The only one who truly has a choice is Captain Janeway," Seven reminded them. "She will do what is best for the ship and the crew. If that means installing the slipstream drive and using it to go home, then she will. Otherwise, it will remain in the lab, undergoing further testing."

"I think you two have lost all sense of perspective," Harry remarked. "I can't even imagine this being anything that the captain would have second thoughts about."

"Perhaps it is you who has lost perspective," Seven said evenly, without rancor. "As B'Elanna has pointed out, you are not exactly objective when it comes to this issue."

"How can anyone be objective?" Harry said. "My god, being able to walk in San Francisco again, seeing the northern lights in Alaska, checking out the Hawaii islands ... when do we leave?"

"A distinct North American bias there," B'Elanna pointed out humorously. "What about the European Section, or the Great Barrier Reef off Australia?"

Harry spread his hands. "Fine, I'll visit them, too," he said. "Just let me know when we get there."

Seven shot a look at the Klingon who had been born on a colony on Kessik IV. "Are you looking forward to returning to Earth, B'Elanna?" she asked curiously. "It seems that whenever the Federation is discussed, Earth is inevitably the planet they mention, yet a good part of the crew is not even native to that world. You are not. Neither am I."

B'Elanna shrugged. "There's just something about the planet, Seven," she explained. "Even if you're not born there, if you have any Human blood at all, it's considered home." She paused, thinking about it. "I'm not saying that if the Earth was suddenly destroyed, that Humanity would die out or anything, but I wouldn't want to be a member of the species who did it. Every Human would consider it an attack against them, personally."

Harry was astounded.

"How the hell did we get on the topic of destroying the Earth?" he asked incredulously, his expression indicating that B'Elanna and Seven were not approaching this in a proper fashion at all, in his opinion.

The Klingon laughed. "We're just talking, Harry," she said. "It wasn't a suggestion or anything."

He shook his head. "I think you've both lost it," he grumbled. "This is the greatest thing that's happened to Voyager, and you two aren't impressed at all."

"Perhaps because too many previous attempts at a quick return to the Federation have turned out to be futile," Seven noted.

"This isn't futile, Seven," he said. "We all know it works. A team of the best physicists in the Federation believe it will work. All we have to do now is convince the captain."

"All we have to do now is present our report to the captain," B'Elanna corrected. "She'll make her own decision ... but only after she's considered all the facts." She favored the operations officer with a sympathetic smile. "I know this means a lot to you, Harry, but don't worry about it. I'm sure the captain will make the right decision."

Seven dipped her head.

"So long as she understands everything that is involved," she pointed evenly.

"Including the very real risk to the ship that must be acknowledged."

Captain Kathryn Janeway rested her chin on her thumb and forefinger as she sat in her customary place at the head of the conference room table, regarding her senior staff intently. A compact woman with auburn hair and level blue-grey eyes, she radiated a command presence that energized a room, and made those who served under her strive to be even better than they thought they could be.

"What you're telling me is that the slipstream drive is finally ready to be installed," she said in a smoky tone.

"Yes," B'Elanna Torres responded, spreading her hands out. She, Seven, and Harry Kim were sitting together at the far end of the table as they presented their findings to the captain and her command crew. "We can start installing it tomorrow morning, and it should be online within ten days."

"This is incredible news," Commander Chakotay said. A tall, solid bear of a man, the first officer looked expectantly at the captain, obviously pleased by the report. Dark haired, with brooding good looks, a tribal tattoo arching over his left brow, he was particularly handsome whenever he smiled, just as he was doing now.

"Once it's up and running, we'll be back in Federation territory within hours," Harry added, excitement coloring his tone. "Leave in the morning, be home for dinner."

Janeway did not think it would be that easy, and indeed, when she glanced at Seven of Nine, studying the expression on the Borg's face, she absolutely knew it would not be that easy. Both Seven and B'Elanna were far less enthusiastic than Harry, and that sent a certain apprehension rippling along the captain's spine.

Tom Paris, the ship's helmsman, did not notice the women's reserve, however, obviously infected by his friend's ebullience. "You're serious? We're going home?" he echoed with a huge grin. "For real, this time?"

"You'll be eating pizza at Sandrine's before you know it," Harry informed the boyish, towheaded lieutenant.

Janeway glanced along the table at the rest of her senior officers. Tuvok, the Vulcan security chief, had not changed expression beyond a slight hike to his right eyebrow. Of course, it was not in his nature to show any emotion, regardless of what was going on, but he did have a wife and children, as well as grandchildren, left behind in the Federation, so Janeway knew he would perceive this as wonderful news. The others in the room also appeared happy, but their reactions were tempered by the circumstances of their individual situations. The Doctor was an Emergency Medical Hologram, his matrix tied closely to the ship, regardless of the mobile emitter he wore around his arm that allowed him to exist outside of sickbay. On Voyager, he was the Chief Medical Officer. In the Federation, he might be nothing more than an odd curiosity, the only one of his kind, an actual, living hologram. Beside him, Kes, the ship's counselor, was an evolved Ocampa, born in the Delta Quadrant, never having been in the Alpha Quadrant at all. Across from her, Ensign Neelix was in the same situation, a native of a planet located in the very sector of space that Voyager had been pulled into by the Caretaker all those years ago.

"Why do I get the feeling I don't have the whole story here?" Janeway said dryly, returning her attention to her engineer.

B'Elanna exchanged a glance with Seven, and the captain's sense of apprehension increased slightly.

"There is a concern or two," the Klingon admitted.

"Which are?" Chakotay prompted.

"If the slipstream drive doesn't work..." she began.

"It will," Harry injected quickly. "It's passed every test, not just here, but in all the computer simulations Brahm's TPG have run on Utopia Planitia. They put it through every scenario they could think of, and it's worked perfectly every time. There's no reason to think it won't for us. Absolutely none at all."

B'Elanna stifled the verbal burst from the operations officer with a baleful look, and turned her attention back to the captain. "If it doesn't work," she repeated, speaking with more precision. "Then that's it."

"That's it?" the Doctor echoed. "What do you mean, that's it?"

Since that was exactly what Janeway wanted to know, she did not pin the EMH with the force ten look that she normally would have given him for interrupting.

"To install the new drive requires us to modify the warp manifold considerably, tying it irrevocably into the new propulsion system," Seven explained, her cool tones precise and dispassionate. "There is no reversal possible. We would not be able to dismantle the slipstream drive in order to reinitiate the current warp system. The transition coil is also quite susceptible to stress fractures, particularly during entry and exit of the slipstream corridor."

That information impacted Janeway like a fist to her stomach, as she immediately recognized all of the implications.

"No return," she said quietly, as the rest of her staff also absorbed this information. "All or nothing. This new drive will either take us home in a day..."

"Or we'll be stuck here in the Delta Quadrant without any kind of faster-than-light drive at all," B'Elanna finished for her.

Janeway inhaled slowly. Warp drive was the very invention that had opened the stars up to Humanity, had enabled them to explore space. It was, in fact, the standard used when judging the technological development of an alien species, and if a civilization was without a rudimentary warp drive, which made the incredible distances in space navigational, the Prime Directive expressly prohibited contact by the Federation. Voyager was capable of achieving a warp factor of 9.98, making her one of the fastest vessels in Starfleet, even almost seven years after being constructed. The slipstream drive bypassed warp, allowing ships to travel along a subspace corridor where distance became meaningless, and points of entry and exit determined where one would end up.

Without either type of drive, however, the ship would be limited to impulse power only, which was less than light speed. Voyager would be nothing more than a minuscule point of light in space, lumbering through the vacuum, taking decades to reach where warp would take them in months, and literally millennia to return to the Alpha Quadrant, if at all.

"Is there any way to keep the two drives separate?" she asked. "Hold our warp engines in reserve?"

B'Elanna shook her head. "No," she replied. "I mean, give us another year or two of research and it's possible that we and the TPG could find a way to do that, but not at the moment." She leaned forward. "Our initial attempt to use the drive failed because we tried to keep it separate from the ship's warp engines. It was an attachment, not a replacement, and as a result, the subspace corridor was unstable, chaotic, buffeting the ship beyond the integrity emitters ability to stabilize it, no matter how much we tried enhancing the field strength. Channeling the transition coil plasma flow through the warp manifold is the only way to maintain a solid corridor."

"But once that plasma flow is routed through the warp manifold, it's there to stay," Janeway concluded uneasily. "You're right; if it doesn't work, the entire warp system will be compromised. The manifold is irreparable, unable to be replicated, and any damage would require the installation of an entirely new one." She paused. "There are very few places to find Starfleet replacement parts in the Delta Quadrant."

None at all, as a matter of fact, she thought bleakly.

"So that's the conundrum," Chakotay said quietly. "Either the experimental drive will take us home immediately, or we'll be trapped in the Delta Quadrant. We couldn't even continue our journey. At most, all we could hope for is to reach a habitable planet on which to live out the rest of our lives."

"Assuming this experimental drive simply doesn't blow up in our faces," the Doctor pointed out acidly.

"In which case, we won't have anything left to worry about," Tom Paris responded dryly.

Janeway placed her hands, palm down, on the table. This would not be an easy decision, but it was unquestionably hers to make. As captain, the fate of her ship ultimately rested on her shoulders, and she could feel the pressure of that responsibility weighing heavily, the immensity of it feathering along her temples in the preliminary symptoms of a raging headache.

"Obviously, this requires more thought," she said calmly, looking up and meeting the eyes of every member of her staff. "I am going to take a few days to mull it over, and I shall certainly be seeking out each of you on an individual basis for further discussion before I make my decision. Until then, however, I expect this to remain among the bridge crew." She lifted her head. "Dismissed."

She remained where she was, watching as her senior staff filed quietly out of the room ... all but her astrometrics officer. She smiled faintly as she regarded Seven sitting in the chair at the other end of the conference room, her hands folded neatly on the table, the narrow features expectant.

"You have something to add?" she asked dryly.

"No," Seven replied. "I merely wish to make myself available if you require further information regarding the slipstream drive."

Janeway smiled and picked up the padd which had been lying next to her hand, waving it slightly for emphasis. "I think all the information I need is in here," she said. She paused. "Were you going to attempt to influence my decision?"

Seven's face changed. "I would never do that," she said, and there was honest hurt in her tone.

Janeway reached out a placating hand. "You're right. I'm sorry," she apologized immediately. "It was a ... thoughtless thing for me to say." She dropped the padd back on the table. "However, off the record, what's your opinion on this?"

Seven's face cleared. "I am not sure that it is relevant," she said.

Janeway wrinkled her nose at her. "Now who's not thinking?" she pointed out. "You know very well that your opinion means a great deal to me."

Seven nodded. "You are correct," she said. "Lately, however, I feel more conscious of the ethical boundaries of utilizing that privilege."

Janeway sighed. When she had encouraged her partner to take Starfleet courses and become a commissioned officer, she knew that one of the most challenging aspects facing the young woman would be passing the classes studying ethical, moral and philisophical issues. However, Seven had embraced them with the same dedication and efficiency she brought to everything else in her life, and it had resulted in her being more precise in how she applied that learning to her new role as a Starfleet lieutenant. It had altered their professional life slightly, and while Janeway appreciated it, there was a part of her that missed the arrogant, self-assured superiority her partner used to have while dealing with her. Not a large part, mind you, and not all the time, but once in a while, she decided that she wouldn't mind the Borg telling her what to do in those authoritative tones ... for no other reason so that she could argue with her and feel like she was accomplishing something.

"Darling, there are members of this crew whose opinions carry far more weight with me than others," she pointed out gently. "Whether because of experience, or logic, or technical skill, or intellect. You know that. You happen to be one of them. I can't afford to lose that resource, particularly now."

Seven looked vaguely surprised as she thought about it. "I had not ... considered our professional relationship in those terms," she admitted finally. "I certainly would not want to deny you any information that could help you in your command, even when it is not entirely objective."

"Then don't," Janeway said pointedly, leaning back in her chair and linking her fingers across her stomach. "Talk to me."

Seven took a moment, obviously organizing her thoughts, and Janeway waited patiently, enjoying the way the subdued light of the conference room played over the young woman's face, softening the narrow features. Seven's eyes, which were an ice blue, and her blonde hair, currently drawn back in an austere bun, gave the Borg a stern, aloof demeanor, indicating nothing of the warm, generous, loving woman the captain knew lay beneath. Not to mention how the black uniform with the blue band across the shoulders made Seven seem smaller than had her biomesh outfits which had clung to every generous curve. On occasion, Janeway missed those skintight suits, particularly the blue and gray one, but the new uniform was far more professional.

"I believe the slipstream drive will work," Seven said finally. "We have tested it far more than we did with our previous attempts at incorporating it into Voyager's propulsion system, and with the additional research provided by Dr. Brahms and her Theoretical Propulsion Group, I believe that every possible problem has been assessed and dealt with."

She paused, apparently for emphasis.

"It will work, Kathryn."

"So your opinion is that we should risk it," Janeway said quietly.

Seven pursed her lips, a tiny furrow appearing between her brows. Janeway was distracted by how utterly adorable she looked, and had to force herself to remember the subject at hand, sternly informing her lascivious imagination that now was not the time to picture her partner on the conference room table, wantonly naked and demanding the sort of attention that only her spouse had the privilege of according her.

"... then there is the issue of the children."

Janeway flushed as she realized she had missed some of what her partner had said. Perhaps Seven was not the person to give her advice, particularly if she wasn't going to pay heed to it.

"I'm sorry, Annika," she apologized. "I missed some of that."

Seven stared at her for a moment. "I realize that normally we would have been off duty an hour and a half ago," she offered finally. "If you would rather continue this in our quarters over dinner..."

"No," Janeway said, holding up her hand. "I certainly don't want to waste personal time on ship's business, and we've decided that our quarters are for personal time only, especially now that you're in Starfleet." She straightened in her chair and leaned forward, folding her hands on the table and regarding her officer with refocused intent. "What were you saying about the children?"

"Just that the thought of putting them at risk is the only reservation I have about this procedure," Seven said. "It is one thing to risk my own existence, even another to risk yours or my adult friends, but when I consider the children, that is when I wonder if this is the proper thing to do. If we wait, if we spend more time in research and testing, perhaps we can find a way to accomplish this without running the risk of losing our warp drive."

The Borg inhaled slowly, her chest expanding in a most delightful manner. "I find that the well being of Naomi, Icheb, Mezoti, the twins, Little Harry and the other infants is a primary concern of mine when it comes to any risk to the ship."

"I suppose I can understand that," Janeway said. "However, I'm not sure how much I can allow the presence of children to influence my decision. Our fate is their fate, Annika, and while I'm not about to do anything that might cause them harm, neither can I be afraid to take risks, especially if it means getting my crew home. The decision is not whether the risk will unduly affect the children; it must be based on what is best for the entire ship."

Seven nodded. "Then my advice is to go with the slipstream installation," she concluded. "My technical opinion is that it is a superior drive to that of the warp system, and will return us to the Alpha Quadrant quickly and efficiently."

Janeway nodded. "Thank you," she said, truly grateful for her partner's honesty. There was another pause, then she smiled. "Now, I'm hungry. Before I seek out any more advice, I think a nice dinner, a relaxing evening in your presence, and a full night's sleep will suit me just fine."

Seven smiled faintly, her full lips curving up. "Then that is what we shall do," she promised.

B'Elanna Torres entered her quarters, her mind so thoroughly full of slipstream schematics and plasma flow regulators that she didn't immediately see her roommate stretched out on the sofa, perusing a padd. When she did, the Klingon promptly moved over to that area of the room, and perched on the edge of the cushions next to the Bajoran.

Ro Laren was tall, possessing a willowy, dancer's body which allowed her to move with a controlled deadliness that never failed to thrill the Klingon whenever she watched her. The woman's hair was dark, cut short to curve around her neck, while her eyes were a deep, chocolate brown. Her features were high-boned, with a strong jaw and an elegant nose which boasted ridges and bone spurs at the bridge. B'Elanna thought she was unquestionably the sexiest woman she had ever met, and was completely in love with her. Fortunately, the reserved security officer seemed to return that emotion in equal measure.

"What's going on?" Ro asked, looking up at her quizzically. She was dressed in her blue sweater, her red and black tunic thrown casually over the back of a nearby chair.

B'Elanna bent down, kissing her with slow deliberation.

"What makes you ask?" she replied once they had finally parted.

Ro smiled faintly. "Your expression," she said. "You have news that you're dying to tell me."

B'Elanna blushed. An unrepentant information hound, she loved knowing everything that was going on in the ship. She also liked passing the data along but lately, she had been trying to curb that unfortunate habit. It didn't stop her from desperately wanting to, however.

"I uh, ... it's supposed to stay with the bridge crew," she said. "Senior staff, only."

Ro shrugged. "I could be considered both," she noted. "Especially since becoming the ship's 'rover'. However, if you don't think you should tell me, then you probably shouldn't."

"I trust you," B'Elanna said. "Besides, I'm pretty sure the captain knows I had every intention of sharing it with you."

The Bajoran raised a sardonic eyebrow. "Are you sure about that?" she prodded.

The Klingon pursed her lips, thinking about it. "No, but I'm going to tell you anyway," she said.

Ro chuckled and shifted onto her side, making room enough for her lover to join her on the sofa which B'Elanna immediately did, stretching out on her back. "Go ahead," the Bajoran invited, her tone heavy with amusement as she propped her chin on her hand.

"We've finished the slipstream drive," B'Elanna told her. "The installation will take about a week and a half. Once it's in, it'll take about a day for it to return us to the Alpha Quadrant."

Releasing her breath slowly through pursed lips, Ro considered this information. "You're right, this is big news," she said finally.

"It is," B'Elanna agreed. "It's looking really good, Laren. We could be back in the Federation in less than two weeks." She tilted her head, studying the Bajoran's serious features. "You don't look happy."

Ro blinked. "It's not that, necessarily," she said. "It's just ... I guess I hadn't really considered all the consequences of going back ... not this soon. It was always something that was going to happen in the future. Now it seems the future is here, and I'd better start thinking about what I'm going to do in the Alpha Quadrant."

B'Elanna hesitated. "I ... uh, would hope that it wouldn't just be what you would do," she offered in a low voice.

Ro regarded her for a moment. "I didn't want to make assumptions," she said carefully. "Particularly regarding us."

"That's okay," B'Elanna said. She thought about it ,and realized this was a discussion they had never shared during their time together. "This is something we need to talk about."

"I'd have to agree," Ro said. She inhaled slowly. "Do you see us together, Lanna? Once we're in the Federation?"

"Do you?" the Klingon countered.

Ro hesitated, then laughed. "I asked you first," she said.

B'Elanna nodded. "I want us to be," she admitted. "But I guess I never really thought about how it would work with us in the Alpha Quadrant."

Ro dipped her head. "Neither did I," she responded. She reached out and drew her finger down the Klingon's cheek, tracing along her chin idly. "You've been pardoned, and have accepted a formal commission into Starfleet. There's no reason to think they wouldn't uphold that."

"You told me Picard is pushing for your reinstatement," B'Elanna added.

"None of it is definite, however," Ro pointed out. "Verbal promises, nothing for certain." She paused. "That needs to be the first thing we do; try to find out what our official status with Starfleet is, and hopefully, do it before we're actually on our way home. I have the greatest respect for Janeway, but the truth is, Lanna, in those first few months, there's going to be a lot of confusion and red tape with her. She's not going to be able to help those of us in her crew much. She might want to, but it's not anything that we can count on."

B'Elanna tasted that thought, not liking the flavor much but realizing it was probably accurate.

"It's already happening, isn't it?" she said slowly.

"What?"

"The separation," the Klingon said. "Things are going to change quickly and this crew, who have lived and fought together for so long, is going to split up. We won't be a unified force anymore. Hell, you and I are already anticipating that it will be 'everyone for themselves'." She looked troubled. "I find it hard to believe that Janeway would abandon her crew."

Ro looked sympathetic. "I don't like the idea much either," she said. "But we have to be practical, Lanna. There are people on this ship who will be in a very odd situation once we've returned. I mean, Prophets, Seven's a Borg ... and what about the Doctor? Janeway will have her hands full just with those two."

B'Elanna felt a trifle lightheaded. "I hadn't thought about that," she said.

"I wonder if they have," Ro said, almost to herself. She paused, then drew B'Elanna's chin over with her fingertips until the young woman had met her gaze with troubled eyes. "In any event, we've only have ourselves to count on ... and each other, if that's how you want it to be."

"You can count on me," B'Elanna promised.

"Same here," Ro agreed. She nodded. "Then it's settled; we'll use the communication array and make some inquires about our true position regarding Starfleet."

B'Elanna blinked. "We can't," she said. "Janeway hasn't even decided whether we're going to install the drive or not."

Ro raised an eyebrow. "Obviously, you've left something out," she noted dryly.

B'Elanna sighed. "Sorry," she said. "I did." Quickly, she filled Ro in on the rest of what had taken place in the staff meeting, and what the downside of using the slipstream drive might be.

Ro nodded when she was done. "Still, it wouldn't hurt to make an inquiry about our official status," she said. "We don't have to indicate we're preparing to head for home. In fact, if we do it now, we'll get in ahead of everyone when the announcement is officially made. If Janeway decides not to install the drive, we haven't lost anything but a little time."

"Okay," B'Elanna said. She flicked a glance at her lover. "After dinner?"

"After dinner sounds fine," Ro allowed. "The messhall?"

B'Elanna sighed. "Sounds good," she said.

She made a move to get up and Ro stopped her, placing her palm on the Klingon's chest. Puzzled, B'Elanna gazed up at her and the Bajoran leaned closer.

"We'll be all right," she said softly, looking deeply into the Klingon's eyes. "Especially if we work together." She bent closer to kiss B'Elanna deeply.

Pleased, the engineer returned the kiss, sliding her arm around the woman's neck and pulling her close. They kissed again, then again, and finally, it was Ro who had to pull away.

"Dinner?" she reminded her partner.

"If you insist," B'Elanna said reluctantly.

The pair untangled from each other, and Ro scooped up her tunic, pulling it on as they left their quarters and headed for deck two. The messhall was reasonably busy, as it always was this time of day, and the couple was fortunate to find an empty table in the corner. While Ro held it for them, B'Elanna went to the counter to retreive the special for the evening; deep dish lasagna with garlic bread. Since Seven had started sharing her recipes with Neelix, and insisting that he follow them to the letter, deviating only after clearing it with her, the quality of the food had elevated considerably. Now, when a crewmember grabbed a bite in the messhall, it was a pleasure rather than a necessity.

Ro frowned as the Klingon placed the tray on the table.

"I thought you said the information about the slipstream drive was supposed to be kept to the bridge crew," she said in a low tone.

"It was," B'Elanna responded, as she sat down opposite Ro. She stared at the Bajoran. "Why?"

"I've been listening to the conversations going on around here," Ro said, glancing around. "The drive is hot topic number one at the moment."

"You've been eavesdropping?" B'Elanna blurted, amused.

"Monitoring the mood of the ship," Ro corrected frostily.

"Ah," B'Elanna said. She dug her fork into her pasta. "Well, I didn't tell anyone but you."

Ro nodded. "Perhaps it's what's not being said," she said, prodding at her lasagna tentatively, before trying a small bite. She seemed to enjoy it and took a second, larger portion.

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that everyone knows you, Kim and Seven have been working on the drive extensively lately," Ro said. She motioned with her chin and B'Elanna followed the direction of it to spot Harry Kim at a table with Tom Paris, surrounded by a lot of other people.

"Harry wouldn't have told," she said, frowning.

"Exactly," Ro said dryly. "People ask him how the slipstream drive project is going, he replies that he can't discuss it at the moment, then he gets a big, smug grin across his face. The crew isn't stupid."

"Janeway isn't going to like that," B'Elanna said, worriedly.

"Technically, he didn't disobey orders," Ro pointed out, shrugging. "In any event, all it will really do is make the captain's decision a little harder."

"What about the acceptance of that decision?" B'Elanna remarked, glancing around the messhall measuringly. "Most of them probably don't even know there's a decision to be made. What the hell will they think if she decides against installing it?"

"She'll handle it," Ro said confidently. "She's a big girl." She paused. "Besides, she's got Seven to protect her, not to mention Tuvok."

"And you," B'Elanna noted.

Ro's dark eyes met B'Elanna's.

"And me," she agreed.

B'Elanna offered her a fond smile. "You'd have made a really good Klingon," she said.

Ro was visibly startled, then she smiled faintly.

"Yes?" she replied. "Interesting, because sometimes I think I don't make a particularly good Bajoran."

B'Elanna filed that one away as something that she should probably pursue at another time, when the couple were not in the middle of the messhall, but it certainly intrigued her.

"Besides," Ro added quietly, glancing at her from beneath her lashes, "I've already made a really good Klingon." The tone left no question about what she was really referring to, and the chief engineer discovered she was blushing.

"Several times," she agreed.

"And will again."

"Count on it," B'Elanna responded.

Hurredly finishing her dinner.

Seven of Nine languidly rolled over in bed, stretching out her arm to gather in her partner, only to find cool sheets and an empty pillow where Janeway normally resided. Disturbed, she opened her eyes, glancing up to check the chronometer, discovering it was 0347 and she had no idea where her spouse could be.

Easing from between the covers, she retrieved her robe from a hook nearby, the satiny, crimson material slipping soft over her skin. It had been a recent gift from her partner to replace her previous black silk gown, which had inadvertently been ripped irreparably during one of Janeway's more amorous moods. The new gown covered a great deal more of her than the black robe had, but for some reason, it gave her body a more provocative appearance when she wore it ... an attribute which pleased both women.

She discovered Janeway out in the living area, huddled in her chair at her work station, legs tucked under her as she scanned the data displayed on her console. She was dressed in her blue, terrycloth robe, the fluffy material making the woman appear much smaller than she really was. Curled up at the base of her chair, the couple's Irish Setter, Jake, maintained a silent vigil near his mistress, his warm brown eyes shifting to note Seven's appearance, though he did not lift his head from his paws.

Curiously, Seven read the file streaming past on the screen before making her presence known to her spouse, putting her hand lightly on the captain's shoulder. Janeway must have been deep into her research because she jumped, uttering a little squeak of surprise.

"I did not mean to startle you, Kathryn," Seven said apologetically as she turned around, leaning against the desk while she looked down at her partner.

Janeway shook her head, waving her hand idly. "Lost in thought," she explained. "I didn't hear you come out."

"It is late for you to be going over the slipstream schematics," Seven noted. "Do you really believe you can discover some way to keep our warp drive in reserve by studying this for a few hours, when neither B'Elanna, Lt. Kim, Dr. Brahms, her team, nor I could, all working together?"

Janeway blushed.

"You really think you know me, don't you?" she grumbled.

Seven raised an eyebrow. "Am I incorrect in my assessment?" she asked curiously.

Janeway glanced at her but she didn't answer, the expression on her face somewhat indefinable as she reached out and shut down her station. Settling back in her chair, she crossed her arms across her chest and regarded her partner from beneath her reddish lashes.

"Why are you up?" she demanded, instead, and Seven knew she had been absolutely correct about Janeway's attempt to second guess so many accomplished scientists.

"Because you are," Seven replied, vaguely amused. "I missed you."

The captain's face softened, and she altered her defensive posture, reaching out and linking her fingers in Seven's left hand, squeezing gently. The Borg carefully returned the pressure, the silver mesh lightly tightening about the captain's fingers.

"I couldn't sleep," Janeway admitted. "This is not going to be an easy decision. The more I consider it, the more difficult it becomes."

Seven tilted her head. "Are you concerned that you will make the incorrect choice?" she asked.

"Not so much incorrect," the captain admitted. "I think I'm just concerned that I won't take everything into consideration."

Seven realized how vulnerable her partner was being with her, that this uncertainty she was feeling was not something she would share with just anyone. In fact, it was entirely possible that the Borg was the only one Janeway would allow so close to her during such a delicate time.

"You will," Seven said with certainty. "You will weigh all the options carefully, and come to the proper conclusion." She paused. "You know that I shall help you in any way that I can."

Janeway smiled faintly. "I know," she said softly. "I can't tell you how much that means to me."

Seven studied her for a few more moments, then lifted their linked hands, bringing the palm up to kiss it lingeringly. "In any event," she said softly, "it is not a decision you must make right now. Come back to bed, Kathryn. I shall hold you while you sleep."

"How can I refuse an offer like that?" Janeway said huskily, uncoiling from her chair and allowing her spouse to lead her back into the bedroom. There, she smiled faintly as Seven untied the cord at her waist and pushed the robe off her shoulders. She made a soft sound as the young woman took the opportunity to brush her fingertips over each collarbone, leaning forward to kiss a line along the captain's throat.

"I believe you mentioned 'sleep'?" Janeway reminded her.

"Am I preventing you from sleeping, Kathryn?" Seven asked innocently, as she undid her own robe and slipped it off.

Janeway's eyes, more blue than grey, made a slow, lazy survey of the six-foot blonde Borg standing gloriously nude before her, pursing her lips thoughtfully.

"Perhaps there are other ways of relaxing," she allowed.

Seven smiled and took the smaller woman in her arms, bending her head to kiss her deeply as the pair sank down into a warm nest of blankets, linens and each other. There were many occasions when they could barely catch their breath, when they came together in an explosion of ecstasy and desire, when every touch seared with a primitive fire and need, when each demanding kiss was as if it were their last. Tonight, however, there was an ease to their lovemaking that familiarity made almost healing, an intimacy which was as much comfort as it was exhilarating. It was a gentle and loving encounter, slow, soft touches, tenderness implicit in every whisper of their fingertips, in every brush of their lips. Climax for Seven was not so much an explosive release as it was the sweet acknowledgment of love and being loved, of absolute trust in this person she held tightly against her, of her unalterable devotion to this woman who moaned Seven's name so helplessly in her own moment of peaking pleasure.

Afterward, they curled together in sleepy satisfaction, Janeway snug in Seven's arms, tucked up under the Borg's chin, her lips tender against the hollow of the young woman's throat.

"Has this helped you with your decision?" Seven asked curiously.

Janeway chuckled softly. "Not necessarily," she murmured in that wonderfully husky growl. "But it has certainly helped to clear my mind, and allowed me to come up with a plan of how I should approach the situation."

"You are aware that most of the ship's crew is cognizant that something significant occurred with the slipstream drive?" Seven added.

"Yes," the captain agreed, sighing slightly. "I suppose it was too much to hope that the average crewmember would remain oblivious of what was happening ... I'll just have to deal with it."

"I will support you in whatever you decide," the Borg told her quietly. "Completely." She bent her head, depositing a soft rain of kisses over the captain's brow. "I love you, my Kathryn."

"You're absolutely my heart, love," Janeway responded. She nuzzled the young woman's neck, then nestled her head further into the cozy hollow of the Borg's shoulder before drifting off to sleep.

Seven remained awake a little longer, cradling this precious being in her arms, and wondering where her partner found the strength to do all that she did, to make all the incredibly hard choices which were only hers to make. It oft times made the Borg speculate on what she would do in Janeway's place on any given occasion, and inevitably she was left with the haunting feeling that she would fall far short of the compact woman's dynamic ability to command so skillfully.

She was married to a most remarkable woman, she decided, and it behooved her to always remember that.

Janeway had already left by the time the young woman woke the next morning, and disgruntled, Seven crawled out of bed, hoping that her partner had, at least, paused for breakfast in her enthusiasm to get her day started early. Stretching lithely, the Borg strolled into the ensuite where she showered before pulling on her uniform, taking a moment to wonder if she would ever become entirely used to wearing it. The two pips, one gold, one black, glinted slightly in the soft light radiating from above the mirror, and she studied them for a moment, aware that, somehow, the simple metallic insignia had altered the professional standing between herself and the captain. Only in their quarters, when she removed the symbol of Starfleet, was there the same, easy familiarity between the women. She was not sure she appreciated this new development as much as she had their previous existence, and the nagging thought remained that perhaps it had not been entirely wise for her to accept a commission.

She left the ensuite and strolled out into the living area of her quarters. Without her partner there to share breakfast, she limited herself to replicating a liquid nutritional supplement which she drank quickly. A quick check of Jake's schedule confirmed that he was set for the day, including a lengthy playtime for him with the Borg children and Naomi for later in the morning. She offered the rusty, long-haired dog a scratch behind the ears, and the stated opinion that he was unquestionably the most adequate pet in the universe, then left her quarters for astrometrics.

There, she discovered Ensign Jennifer Delaney in deep discussion with Ensign Culhean, the pair ceasing their conversation the moment Seven walked in. The Borg quirked an eyebrow inquiringly. While Jennifer was part of the astrophysics department, there was absolutely no need for the other officer to be present, and she wondered if she had interrupted some form of romantic encounter.

However, Jennifer and the young pilot exchanged glances, then as if gathering up her courage, the younger half of the Delaney twins confronted the Borg.

"Seven, is it true that the slipstream drive is ready to take us back to the Alpha Quadrant?" she blurted.

Seven considered the question very carefully, wondering how exactly she should respond. Janeway had never instructed that she should lie when asked a direct question by any member of the crew ... at least, not yet ... but the young woman was also aware that this was undoubtedly a matter where she should not be entirely forthcoming either. Not until her partner had made some sort of final decision.

"It has adequately met all the test requirements to date," she offered finally.

"I hear the captain doesn't want to use it because Starfleet wants us to remain out here longer," Culhean burst out. Jennifer shot him an exasperated look, and Seven studied him with a certain amount of astonishment.

"That is entirely incorrect," she said honestly.

Jennifer elbowed him, not so surreptitiously, and faced the Borg. "Are we going home, Seven?" she asked.

Seven hesitated. "Captain Janeway's first priority is, and always has been, the safe and expedient return of her ship and crew to the Alpha Quadrant," she responded sincerely.

Satisfied, Jennifer nodded, then grabbed Culhean by the arm, dragging him from the lab. "Thanks, Seven," she said. "I know you wouldn't lie to me."

The Borg managed not to change expression. Seven would not lie if she could help it, but she was also aware that if she could achieve misdirection of any kind of believable fashion to assist her spouse, she would. It was not easy to disguise the truth through omission, just as she had with the two junior officers, but she also realized she had not truly answered their questions, even if they believed she had. That granted her a certain satisfaction, though at the same time, her conscience insisted on offering a mild twinge.

She vaguely understood the concept that, sometimes, withholding information was a beneficial thing, particularly when she dealt with the children on the vessel. There were certain things they were simply better off not knowing until they had acquired more life experience. By the same token, however, it went against her own natural grain, as well as what she had learned in her Starfleet courses. She remembered viewing a lecture by Jean-Luc Picard given to a group of first year cadets, having pulled the file from the Academy archives in the ship's database. The captain of the USS Enterprise had been a guest speaker, and he had made an impressive speech, indelibly etched into the ex-drone's mind ... possibly because at one point, the man had actually been Borg himself ... about the importance of truth. Indeed, his contention was that every Starfleet officer's sworn duty was to the truth, be it scientific truth, ethical truth or personal truth. Janeway had also passed on that lesson to her on one occasion, when Seven had been required to testify at a court martial.

Yet, life was not always as clear and concise as that, and she could not help being aware of that distinction as well. She sighed and activated her station, going over the logs from the previous shifts, catching up on where the department was with their duties and what she had to do this particular day.

Yet, her unease lingered. It was clear that rumors were starting to appear, some of them possibly creating a situation of tension that no one needed at this particular time in Voyager's journey. She resolved to seek out her friend, B'Elanna, as soon as she had a moment, and discuss it with her. No one knew better than the Klingon how quickly supposition and innuendo spread through the unique little community that had been formed by the Intrepid-class vessel's crew.

Perhaps the engineer would know what it portended for the captain in making her decision, and where it might become an actual disadvantage to the smooth functioning of the ship.  She might also have a few ideas on how to combat it.

B'Elanna was nothing, if not innovative in her approach to lower deck gossip.

Commander Chakotay ascended the short flight of stairs leading to the upper level of the captain's ready room, his dark eyes expectant as he regarded the compact woman seated on the couch.

"You wanted to see me, Captain?" he asked blandly.

She made a mild face at his tone, wrinkling her nose. "Yes, and I'm sure you know why," she said. She dipped her head, motioning to the chair offset from the sofa. "Have a seat, Commander, this may take a while. Would you like some tea?"

"Please," he replied, accepting the mug she handed him.

He smiled faintly as he lowered his bulk gracefully onto the cushions, and stretched out his legs. Obviously, he was going to make himself as comfortable as possible for this particular discussion. They stared at each other for a moment, silence lying heavy between them, neither apparently sure how to begin.

"So," he said.

"So," she repeated. She paused. "Certainly, you have to have an opinion on this, Commander. Why not start by telling me what your initial, gut reaction was."

"Go home, of course," he said, smiling faintly. "Probably the same as yours ... but we both know it's not that simple."

"No," she agreed. "It's not." She took a sip of her own tea. "The risk is obvious, perhaps the greatest risk we've ever faced in terms of our ultimate fate. Yet at the same time, it's a very simplistic gamble. Either we're home, or we'll never see it again."

"What about Starfleet, Kathryn?" he pointed out. "After all, the TPG has this information. We could hope that even if it doesn't work for us, they would continue to experiment with it."

"Create a whole new field of propulsion for Starfleet?" Janeway suggested. "Perhaps in a few years, if this attempt doesn't work and we end up on a planet somewhere, a vessel using their version of the drive would come and take us home?" She eyed him narrowly, understanding, of course, that he was utilizing all the cards available, spreading them out on the table so they both knew what they had to play with. "Unfortunately, that's nothing we can count on. The TPG could just as easily discard the whole line of slipstream research as being futile, particularly if it doesn't work for us, just as most scientists did with the original transwarp research of ninety years ago. There's no concrete reason to believe that there would be any kind of slipstream propelled vessel in the future, let alone one which would be dispatched to the Delta Quadrant to find out what had happened to us. With impulse power only, our enhanced communications array would be compromised."

"No way to tell them what happened," Chakotay agreed somberly. "Then, there's the current political situation in the Alpha Quadrant. Even if they want to expend further resources to rescue us, the fact remains that the war with the Dominion has left the Federation in a somewhat fragile state. We are, after all, only one vessel, with a small crew of 140. It might finally be decided ... regretfully, of course ... that Voyager isn't worth the effort beyond what they've already done in the past few months." He studied his mug thoughtfully.

"That had occurred to me," Janeway agreed. "The Romulans, the Breen ... even the Dominion, remain distinct threats. A lot of what I've read in the information packets leaves me uneasy about what Starfleet can truly afford to do for us. It's also occurred to me that all this recent contact and attention may be their single, concentrated, last ditch attempt to deal with the 'Voyager Situation', and if it doesn't work, they'll move on to all the other problems facing the Federation. Unfortunate, but a necessary reality."

He raised his mug. "Since there's no guarantee that the TPG will continue to lend time, knowledge and resources to solve the slipstream drive problem beyond this one attempt, particularly if we're not willing to take the risk when they seem convinced it will work, we can't depend on the theory that further tinkering on the drive will somehow change the necessity of merging it with the current warp system."

Janeway nodded, satisfied that all the possible worst case scenarios had been laid out for their inspection.

"It really does come down to us risking something new, or continuing the journey the way we've been," she said. She raised her eyes to meet his, seeing the concern and support in his dark gaze. He had become such a competent and trusted first officer, and she found she was quite thankful for his steady, solid presence. He would make a fine captain someday. "Assume I'm not here," she said wistfully. "What would you choose?"

He realized what she was asking, the expression clear in his face.

"I'd take the risk," he said finally, simply.

"Why?" she challenged.

"Because that's my nature," he said. He paused. "And since we're being honest, it's yours as well."

She acknowledged the accuracy of that assessment with a dip of her head.

"However," she said quietly. "I don't know that I can go with my instincts on this one."

He smiled. "Now, I think you're fooling yourself," he said. "I believe, that in the end, that's exactly what it will come down to."

She smiled, and shook her head. "We'll see, my friend," she said. "Thank you for your honesty."

"It's my job," he responded gently. Apparently realizing that was all, he stood up and carefully deposited his mug on the coffee table. His manner became more formal as his role altered back again to that of a lower rank, not of confidanté. "Is there anything else, Captain?"

"Yes," she said. "Please have Ensign Neelix report to my ready room as soon as possible."

He hesitated, turning to look at her, obviously surprised. "Neelix?"

She regarded him evenly. "It's a decision that requires as much input as possible," she noted. "From as many viewpoints as possible. Certainly, the outcome concerns him as much as any of us."

"Of course," he said, dipping his head apologetically as he acknowledged the implied rebuke threading her tone. "I'll make sure he reports to you immediately."

Janeway sipped the remainder of her tea thoughtfully as she waited for the Talaxian to make his appearance. In her time here in the Delta Quadrant, she had acquired quite an eclectic senior staff. Now, more than at any other period in the past seven years, she had cause to appreciate that greatly. With all the varied backgrounds of the individuals making up her command crew, she was sure to gain a balanced sense of how things were, which could only help her when it came time to make the actual, final decision. She did find herself wondering about Chakotay's final words however. She didn't want this decision to be a matter of instinct. She wanted it to be a reasoned, intelligent choice, one that weighed all the factors and took absolutely everything into account. It could be her final major decision as captain of Voyager, and she didn't want to look back on it, regardless of the outcome, with the idea that she had let her heart rule her head.

She glanced up as the door chime sounded softly.

"Come," she instructed.

The stocky Talaxian entered immediately, if somewhat tentatively, peering around the ready room with golden eyes that squinted slightly, as if having trouble seeing in the subdued illumination the captain preferred to maintain in her private office. It occurred to Janeway suddenly, in a burst of shamed realization, that perhaps Neelix was not as comfortable with the Earth standard lighting as most of her humanoid crew was. Was it possible that in almost seven long years, she had never taken the time to discover that simple fact about the Delta Quadrant native? That his alien physiology was not really suited for him to work at his best in the ship's climate?

Yet he had never complained, and while she was prepared to make concessions for the comfort of her crew, she required input from them every so often as well, in order to maintain a smoothly functioning vessel. She couldn't read minds, after all.

"Up here, Neelix," she invited, putting her cup down. "Please, join me. I need to speak with you."

However, she continued the thought, it was also possible that she was far less perceptive and compassionate than she liked to think she was. She knew she would have to be more on the ball, particularly if they returned to the Federation in the near future and she had to start dealing with an entirely new crew. After all, it was a rare captain that maintained a consistent bridge staff over the space of a few years, let alone an entire ship's complement. If she hadn't managed to get to know a crew which had served her faithfully for almost seven years in the most trying of circumstances, what would she do with a bunch of officers fresh out of the Academy, or newly off the battlefields of the Dominion War? What would she do with officers who had no clue what she and her people had been through out here in the frontier, with no backup or contact with others in the 'Fleet?

Shaking her head, she focused her attention back on the matter at hand, making sure Neelix was settled in the chair, complete with a fresh glass of some unpronounceable juice that she had been astounded to discover in the replicator's pattern buffer. She poured herself a fresh cup of tea and returned to the sofa, leaning back comfortably against the cushions as she regarded the ship's morale officer.

"Ensign, you were in the conference room when the report about the slipstream drive was presented, along with what could be a very clear risk if we choose to use it," she offered quietly. "I would appreciate it if you would share your opinion with me regarding this situation. You have my permission to speak freely."

Neelix looked pleased at being asked, just as he did every time she found herself confiding in him in some small way. It took so little to make him feel important, to make him feel worthy, and she wondered if she had done enough of it over the years. How many times had she dismissed his colorful appearance and desire to please as not being particularly helpful to her or to the ship? However, living on Voyager must have had a huge effect on him because there he was, proudly wearing the gold and black uniform of Starfleet operations. Gregarious, friendly, eager to accommodate his crewmates, his initial agreement to accompany Voyager on her journey had stemmed more from his relationship with Kes than from any desire to explore space. Yet, at some point, Janeway suspected that the Delta Quadrant native found he needed desperately to be a part of her crew, far more than Kes or anyone else, including Seven, had ever felt.

He also looked a trifle apprehensive about being in her ready room. It was very rare that she requested his view on such an important matter, and in fact, she wondered if perhaps she shouldn't have sought out his advice on more occasions.

"Well, Captain," he began, his expression serious. He had clearly been giving this his utmost consideration since the staff meeting the day before. "It's a very tricky situation. At first glance, it seems like everything we could hope for, but like most things I've come across, there seems to be a cost."

"There is always a cost, Neelix," she allowed. "Sometimes it's so hidden, it's not discovered until it's too late. This, however, seems fairly straightforward. Go home, or possibly stay in the Delta Quadrant forever." She studied him obliquely. "Would staying here be so bad, Neelix? It is your home."

He regarded her for a moment, and she forced herself to remember that he was probably as old as she was, with a lifetime of surviving some pretty horrendous experiences. She decided that her casual approach hadn't fooled him for a moment, even if on some occasions, he allowed people to think he had been fooled. Sometimes, she wondered who was truly the sophisticated traveler of the galaxy? The Starfleet captain or this Talaxian trader whose family and friends had been killed in an unjust military action with the Haakonian Order.

"The Delta Quadrant isn't my home," he said quietly. "It hasn't been since Rinax was devastated by the metreon cascade. I didn't find another until I came to Voyager." He took a calming swallow of his drink. "Captain, the need to go home is a powerful thing. Perhaps I understand that better than anyone since I know I can never return to mine."

"Even when the risk isn't worth the possible outcome?" she asked.

"Yes," he said. "Sometimes, Captain, you have to follow your heart."

Janeway didn't know what she had expected, but it hadn't been this simple, emotional exchange based not on fact, but on the deep longing for a place in the universe, a longing as primeval as life itself.

"Thank you, Mr. Neelix," she said quietly.

"You're welcome, Captain," he said.

She didn't speak as he finished his drink, put the glass carefully down on the table and, at her graceful nod of dismissal, left her sitting in her ready room.

Thinking thoughts that grew more troubled with every passing moment.

Megan Delaney cuddled her only son on her knee, Little Harry gurgling happily as he played with his mother's hair which fell softly about her shoulders. Harry Kim glanced over at his family with fond regard as he programmed a three course meal into the replicator, recklessly spending all his spare replicator rations for this special occasion. Sitting across from Harry's spouse, Tom Paris looked comfortable on the sofa, cradling a drink, his feet propped up on a footstool. The helmsman had provided his own share of hoarded rations for the evening's feast, though rumor had it that since Seven of Nine had cleaned him out over a pool match, he didn't have the same lavish riches he once boasted.

All three of them knew that nothing had actually been settled yet, but they had felt a distinct need for a celebration of sorts, and decided to have their own version of a 'good-bye to the Delta Quadrant' party. If it was somewhat premature, well, that was why they had limited it to only themselves in the Kim-Delaney family quarters. The sudden chime at the door came as an unwelcome surprise, and Harry frowned as he went to answer it.

He nearly swallowed his tongue when he saw Captain Janeway standing there. To his knowledge, the captain had never been inside his cabin. Even when she and Seven offered to babysit, he and Megan always dropped their offspring off at the captain's quarters rather than have the couple come here.

"Uh, Captain," he said.

"Harry," she said politely. "Am I interrupting?"

"Not at all, ma'am ... uh, Captain," he said.

She waited, and belatedly, he realized he was blocking her path, preventing her from entering. Flustered, he stepped aside and motioned her in. Both Tom and Megan looked surprised, but Little Harry, dressed in his jammies, was ecstatic. He wiggled off Megan's lap and made a beeline for the captain, stumbling, tumbling, but never deviating until he reached her feet where he paused, looking up at her with absolute adoration, raising his arms entreatingly.

"Ka ka ka ka ka ka," he burbled as loudly as he could in what was undoubtedly his version of either 'Captain' or 'Kathryn'. His father didn't know how familiar his son was allowed to be with Voyager's commanding officer, so he wasn't prepared to make a guess as to which.

"Hello there, little one," she said, obviously delighted as she bent down to scoop him into her arms. "When am I going to have the honor of your company again?"

"You're our favorite babysitter, Captain," Megan said graciously, as she stood up and moved over to greet her commanding officer. Though she was of a lower rank than Harry, and had never had the opportunity to work with the captain on a firsthand basis as he did, the young woman had become far more comfortable in Janeway's presence than her husband. "He adores seeing you."

"Hmm, I suspect he likes seeing me because I'm usually accompanied by whom he truly adores," she noted dryly as Little Harry kept turning his head, as if certain that Janeway had somehow temporarily misplaced something.

Or someone.

"Sev," he demanded.

"Seven's not with me this evening," she informed him gravely. "She's at home."

He stared at her, his lower lip quivering.

"Sev," he repeated, more insistently.

She shook her head and he screwed up his face in preparation of crying. Fortunately, his mother forestalled it by taking him from the captain's arms.

"Time for bed, little guy," she said. "Say good-night to Captain Janeway."

"Good-night, little one," Janeway said, cupping his cheek briefly in her hand, her eyes soft and a warm blue. Harry hadn't seen the captain look like that very often, and he noticed that Tom was gazing at her with bright eyes as well, but the helmsman didn't say anything. Which was probably just as well, because regardless of the circumstances, Janeway was still the captain and one should not comment on how extremely gooey her expression had just become.

"Say good-night to Daddy."

"Good-night, son," Harry said and took his son in his arms, giving him a hug. The boy gurgled and laughed, offering up his mangled version of 'Daddy', which never failed to make the operations officer smile. 'Uncle' Tom got a snuggle, as well, then Megan disappeared into the bedroom with the child. Harry regarded the captain, and motioned awkwardly at the table which was already set for three.

"If you'd care to stay for dinner, ma'am..." he began, stopping as she held up a hand.

"No, though I thank you for the offer," she said. "Seven is probably waiting for me. I don't wish to delay your meal, but I would like to speak with you and Tom, if you can spare a moment now."

"Of course," he said. He showed her to a chair and took a seat next to his friend.

"This is about the slipstream drive, isn't it?" Tom said keenly.

Harry would never be as forward with Janeway, but for some reason, Tom had always shared a certain familiarity with the captain that other crewmembers didn't have with her. Perhaps it was because they had both been raised in Starfleet families, or had admirals for fathers, or perhaps it was simply the Paris charm that could affect even a formidable woman like Janeway ... Harry simply didn't know, but he was content to let his friend do the verbal sparring with her.

"Yes," she said. "There is a very real risk with installing this drive into Voyager."

"Only if something goes wrong," Tom insisted. "Yet, everyone who's worked on the drive has complete faith in it, Captain. They're willing to risk it all on this chance."

"Tom's right," Harry piped up. "Captain, I've worked more hours than I care to count with this. Don't forget, it was almost my mistake that cost us the ship the first time we used the slipstream drive. If I hadn't come back in time..."

Janeway held up her hand again. "Please," she begged. "Don't bring in temporal mechanics."

Harry grinned, quite familiar with his captain's distaste for conversations dealing with time travel. "Anyway," he continued, "I completely believe in this drive. It will work. I'd stake my life on it."

Janeway stared at him steadily. "Would you stake Megan's?" she asked quietly. "Or Little Harry's? This is such an 'all or nothing' proposition, Harry. One malfunction and we're stranded in the Delta Quadrant for good. Are you willing to have your child grow up never knowing the Federation?"

Harry returned her gaze without flinching. "What I don't want is my child to grow up on a starship, rather than on a planet. What I don't want is to miss my chance to allow him to know his grandparents." He inhaled slowly. "Captain, I can see that this isn't the easy choice that I would like it to be ... I'm not oblivious to that ... but our entire existence in the Delta Quadrant has been nothing more than one huge risk after another. The truth is, we could have been dead a hundred times over. In fact, if you want to be technical, I have died. At least, my counterpart in this universe has."

He offered his most sincere expression.

"Please ... install the drive."

He thought there might have been a troubled expression shading her blue-grey eyes, but she nodded, her demeanor granting his opinion a sense of respect. "Thank you, Harry," she said. She shifted her gaze to her helmsman. "Am I to assume that you share his opinion, Tom?"

He shrugged lightly. Paris was reclining languidly on the sofa, legs stretched out, hands linked behind his head. "More or less, Captain," he said. "Sometimes I think it's time we got on with our lives. This seems like the perfect opportunity to do that."

"You feel stifled on Voyager?" she asked in a silky tone that made a shiver go down the operation officer's back.

Harry glanced at his friend, but Tom didn't flicker.

"Don't you?" the helmsman challenged. "I mean, for the first two years it was a struggle just to survive, for the next two, we struggled to adjust. At this point however, there's a sameness about it all. After all these years, I guess I'm just tired of being in the Delta Quadrant. I'm not saying that it would necessarily be better back in the Alpha Quadrant, but at least, it would be a change."

Janeway blinked, surprised. "Now that's one I hadn't considered," she allowed dryly. "The boredom factor."

"Honestly?"

"Please," Janeway invited.

"I don't know how you do it, Captain," he said his blue eyes sincere. "I think it really came to me when I was talking with Dad a few weeks ago, but that's when it hit me as to just how long this has been going on. Yes, I know initially it was supposed to take seventy years, and we've made up two thirds of that distance in only seven years, and yes, I know we have the option of waiting with this drive and doing more research, but at this point, any change would be welcome to me." He paused. "Even if it didn't work and we had to find a planet to start a new colony, it would be something different, at least."

Harry didn't think that was a particularly intelligent argument in favor of installing the slipstream drive, but it was uniquely Tom's, so he supposed that the captain could appreciate it simply for that.

Janeway smiled. "I believed you right up until the end," she told him wryly. "However, I can't imagine you settling for staying on the ground, Tom."

The lanky lieutenant grinned unrepentantly back at her. "Real reason?" he asked.

She dipped her head.

He paused, then the grin faded from his face and his eyes softened. "I'm homesick," he said simply. "I just want to go home and see my Dad and Mom, and my sisters. I miss Earth. If the slipstream drive offers us a chance to see it again, then let's use it."

That was not playing fair at all, Harry decided, and rather wished that he had come up with it. Sometimes, he forgot that the captain could be reached with an emotional appeal under the right circumstances, and judging from the expression in her eyes, it had been effective indeed. It was very rare that he saw her so rocked, but then, it was very rare that the captain unbent enough to reach out to members of her crew like this. He supposed that Seven of Nine did get to see that side of Janeway all the time ... at least, he hoped she did ... but for him, it was like getting a quick glimpse through a window at an entirely different person.

It didn't last, of course, and the aloofness she usually presented to the average crewmember quickly returned, but he took this little glimpse and filed it with all the others, nurtured and protected in a special place inside of him. It went right next to the memory of the day she sat next to him on a planetary mission, eating berries that left them both with mouths smeared with blue.

The three looked up as Megan returned to the living area, and Harry was aware of the captain looking at him. For once, he managed to read what she was thinking from the quizzical tilt to her eyebrow.

"Yes, ma'am," he said, somewhat uncomfortably. "She's my wife. I share everything with her."

Megan looked puzzled as she perched on the arm of the sofa next to him, resting her hand on his shoulder.

"We were just discussing the slipstream drive," the captain told her smoothly. "I have a decision to make regarding it."

Megan nodded. "I guess a lot of people would wonder why you're even hesitating, Captain," she said. "But Harry told me what could happen if anything went wrong."

Janeway considered the young woman thoughtfully. "I would be very interested in hearing your opinion, Ensign," she said.

Harry glanced at his spouse curiously, realizing that he had never asked it himself, assuming it would be the same as his. It suddenly occurred to him that it might not be, and he was astonished at his arrogance. When did he become so complacent? he wondered. If there was one piece of advice his father had given him about women, it was not to take them for granted.

Megan crossed her legs, resting her chin on her fist. "Honestly, Captain, sometimes those of us on the lower decks feel like so much of this is out of our control, that there's really not much point in forming one."

Janeway blinked, and Harry wondered if his wife should have been so brutally honest, but on the other hand, the captain was in what was essentially their home. A certain sort of informality occurred whenever that happened.

"I certainly don't want any of my crew to feel that their opinion is of no consequence," Janeway said carefully.

"Captain, in certain cases, the opinions of senior officers hold no consequence either," she pointed out with a touch of humor, and Harry realized a bit of the Old South had crept into his spouse's accent. He wondered if she was nervous, but if she was, she was covering it well aside from the hint of honeysuckle in her voice. "Ultimately, only one person's opinion really matters on Voyager."

There was a pause, and even Tom seemed somewhat frozen by this bit of gospel. While it was absolutely true, and everyone knew it, it wasn't the sort of thing that one necessarily pointed out to the captain.

Then, Janeway smiled and everyone relaxed. "However," she pointed out. "I don't always want to form that opinion without having all the available information ... including what various members of my crew are thinking."

Megan nodded. "All right," she said, thoughtfully. "I like my life, Captain. Whether we return tomorrow or ten years from now, it makes no difference to me. I joined Starfleet to explore, and being in the Delta Quadrant, which is completely uncharted, is an astrophysicist's dream. Right now, I have enough material to spend the rest of my life researching it, whether it's in the Federation or out here. Professionally, I simply don't care if the drive is installed."

She paused, tilting her head slightly. "Personally, my sister and I are 'Fleet brats, raised on a series of starships, and it certainly didn't hurt us any. While I know Harry might not necessarily agree with me, I don't believe it's going to cause my son harm if he has to grow up on Voyager. Speaking purely as a mother, I would rather we not take a risk on my child's life in any fashion, but considering our lifestyle, one tends to be a little more liberal with what constitutes a 'risk' regarding space travel."

The captain tilted her head. "So your vote would be?" she invited.

Megan smiled charmingly. "I guess I'd have to abstain," she said. "And trust that my commanding officer will make the best decision for all of us. Wherever I end up, I just want to see the stars and be able to point them out to Harry." She shot a fond look at her husband. "Both of them."

Harry was astounded, but since it was not the first time the seemingly shy and unassuming Megan Delaney had done that to him, he decided that sooner or later, he would become inured to it. He just hoped his surprise hadn't been readily apparent to the rest.

It was obvious, however, that there was still a great deal he had to learn about his spouse.

Seven of Nine was standing behind the kitchenette counter when the door to their quarters hissed open, and her spouse appeared. From the expression that fleetingly crossed the captain's face, the young woman knew that Janeway had completely forgotten that they were having guests over for dinner. Quickly pasting on a charming smile, the captain moved over to greet B'Elanna and Ro who were sitting together on the sofa, as well as Tuvok, who was sitting more stiffly in a chair.

"I'm sorry to take so long," Janeway said.

Just as if she had been stymied in her heroic attempts to return home on time, as opposed to her not even thinking about the dinner engagement that she, herself, had arranged, Seven noted sardonically.

"If you'll just give me a moment to change, I'll join you shortly," the captain continued.

"Take your time, Captain," B'Elanna offered. "Seven's provided lots of snacks to hold us for the main course, and she's on her way with the drinks. We're in really good hands."

Janeway flashed her chief engineer a grin. "I find it hard to believe that only snacks will hold you, Lieutenant," she said, with gracious playfulness. "I'll hurry."

However, she shot a glance at Seven which contained a sort of put upon expression that perhaps only her partner would recognize. The Borg returned it with an arch to her brow to indicate a combination of 'hurry up and change' mixed with a 'what can I do regarding the circumstances since you were the one who invited them?' message to her spouse. She had absolutely no sympathy for Janeway in this matter.

Seven was glad, however, that she had taken the time to lay out some clothes for the captain, along with fresh towels in the ensuite. That would facilitate Janeway's preparation, and as the captain disappeared into the bedroom, sealing the door, Seven moved around the counter, bearing a tray of glasses. A bottle of replicated Bajoran spring wine, along with a pitcher of the fruit juice that Tuvok preferred, were already on the table, and she waited until her guests had acquired their drinks before pouring some juice for herself and an extra glass of wine for her spouse.

"I understand that the twins, Azan and Rebi, have begun attending lessons with you, Tuvok," she said, once she had settled in the spare chair, which was removed from the closet only when guests were present.

"Yes," the Vulcan explained, quirking an eyebrow slightly. "They show definite traces of psychic linkage, facilitated, of course, by their Borg implants."

"Would they still have the link without the implants?" Ro asked curiously, as she managed to secure a few hors d'oeuvres from the platter B'Elanna was hoarding so assiduously. Seven decided that in the future, she would have to make more than one platter available whenever the Klingon was present.

"I believe so," he said. "Even in species that do not indicate much in the way of psi abilities, twins often display certain extrasensory attributes of significance."

The bedroom door opened, and Seven was surprised when Janeway returned to the living area so quickly. The captain was immaculately dressed in the navy sheathe that the Borg always found particularly attractive, while her wedding chain with the green stone rested on the smooth plane of her chest, the silver earrings glinting in her earlobes. Her auburn hair shone with fiery highlights, and the blue-grey eyes sparkled as she accepted the glass of wine from her spouse as she perched on the arm of the chair next to the young woman.

"You are lovely," Seven murmured, quite impressed with her spouse's expediency.

Janeway offered her a glimpse of that soft, vulnerable expression, her free arm stretched along the back of the chair, across the Borg's shoulders. "Thank you, darling," she said.

"You never tell me things like that," B'Elanna complained, glancing at Ro.

Ro raised her brows. "I told you that before we came here," she corrected mildly.

Just as if they were truly a couple now, Seven noted fondly, and indeed, the Klingon did look splendid, wearing a simple black dress that fell to her ankles, a decided change from the plain look she assumed as the chief engineer, which usually included a smock. Ro was also attractively garbed in a sapphire tunic and dark pants, her silver earring dangling impressively from her right ear. Seven blinked, wondering when that had been altered. As far as she knew, the Bajoran had always worn her cultural adornment in her left ear.

Tuvok was the only one still dressed in his uniform. Even Seven had changed into a silvery-blue blouse she had purchased on a planet in the last sector of space they had been in, though she retained her black uniform trousers, finding them comfortable enough to function in.

She was very glad to see the relaxed way that Tuvok and the women were acting with each other. For whatever reason, there had been a period of time when B'Elanna, in particular, had seemed very leery of the Vulcan. That seemed to be in the past now, and Seven decided that whatever it had been, they had somehow resolved it.

As the conversation continued, touching on the various things occurring on the ship ... though Seven noted that everyone seemed to be steering clear of any topic related to the slipstream drive at the moment ...  the Borg excused herself and returned to the kitchenette. There, she checked on the dish which had almost finished baking in the heating unit, the savory fragrance of herbs, vegetables and meat filling the air. It was her belief that the additional pleasure the aromas that preparation provided was why some people retained the skill of creating dishes from scratch. There was no question that the appetites of all her guests were stimulated just from the mouthwatering scents. B'Elanna, in particular, kept glancing anxiously toward the table, as if wondering when dinner would be served.

As Seven filled a wicker basket with warm, fresh rolls, she was joined by her partner who ostensibly had excused herself briefly to choose a wine to go with their meal.

"I'm sorry, love," the captain apologized in a low tone as she studied their wine collection. "I completely forgot about dinner tonight. I certainly didn't mean to leave you with all the work."

Seven handed her the rolls and offered her a smile. "It is fine, Kathryn," she responded quietly. "I know there is much on your mind at the moment."

Janeway surreptitiously patted the Borg's hip, her hand concealed from their guests by the counter. "Still, I'll make it up to you," she promised softly. "After everyone leaves."

"The rolls go on the table," Seven instructed her primly, but she appreciated the tingle that rippled through her at the implication. From the final, lingering caress the captain offered her, she was aware that Janeway had easily read her approval beneath the words.

They were midway through their meal when the discussion finally turned to what had been simmering beneath the surface all evening. Typically, it was B'Elanna who brought it up, obviously too impatient to keep it under wraps any longer.

"So, am I going to be installing the drive before the end of the week?" she asked pointedly, staring at the captain at the head of the table.

Janeway's eyes shifted over to the Klingon, narrowing slightly, but she finished the slow sip of wine she had been enjoying prior to the question, not responding immediately. Seven lifted her head, intrigued by how her partner might answer. She, too, was curious as to whether the captain had made any sort of decision regarding it, or if she was still formulating her course of action.

"I'm still in the process of forming a conclusion," Janeway said gently. She placed her wineglass back on the table before picking up her fork. "Obviously, the opinions I've encountered to date tend to favor the installation, but most are based on homesickness. Unfortunately, I cannot allow sentiment to dictate the proper choice of action ... not when the consequences are so dire if things don't work out."

If B'Elanna was intimidated by the gravely worded reply, she didn't show it.

"A lot of people could be upset if you don't authorize the installation," she persisted, and there was a hint of something to her tone, not necessarily because she was provoking the captain, but because that was the Klingon's natural manner. Seven was concerned that her spouse might take it as a form of challenge, but fortunately, Janeway was far too familiar with the engineer for that.

"More people will be upset if something goes wrong, and we're stranded forever in the Delta Quadrant with no warp engines," the captain countered smoothly.

Ro glanced at her companion, then at the captain. "Nonetheless, there is cause for concern," the Bajoran offered evenly, adding the weight of her opinion to the Klingon's theory. "Most of the crew knows that the slipstream drive is ready. To not go with it could lead to ... unfortunate consequences."

Seven frowned, but before she or the captain could remark on that bit of speculation, the ship's chief of security stepped in.

"Lt. Ro is correct," Tuvok said calmly. "It is one thing to be on a ship which will take years to return to port ... the crew has adapted to that concept. It is quite another, however, to know there is a possible way to facilitate the return to the Alpha Quadrant only to be refused permission to utilize it because of protocol or a perceived, rather than an established, danger." He paused. "Even the most logical of crewmembers could find that difficult to accept. It is possible that not everyone would continue to conduct themselves in a matter befitting a Starfleet officer."

For a moment, the captain and the security officer's eyes met, sharing something personal, private and significant. Seven didn't know what it could be, but there was an old wound there of sorts, a sense that at some point, one or the other had done just that in the pursuit of a way back to the Federation. Had Janeway compromised her values when faced with a possible method of returning home in a more expedient fashion ... or had it been Tuvok? Seven wondered if she dared ask her partner later, when the couple was alone.

"Are the pair of you implying that I could be facing a mutiny if I don't authorize the installation and use of the slipstream drive?" Janeway asked in a very mild tone.

B'Elanna gulped audibly in the silence that abruptly descended. Obviously, she had not taken her initial statement about the mood of the crew to its inevitable conclusion. Seven felt her heart increase its rhythm as anger threaded through her. Would the crew actually threaten her partner, threaten Janeway's command?

Ro and Tuvok exchanged glances, then the Bajoran looked at the captain. "We would not be doing our jobs if we didn't bring that contingency to your attention," Ro said evenly. "You must consider all possible outcomes."

There was a bit of color in Janeway's cheeks, and her eyes flashed angrily, but her tone continued to be deceptively mild. "I will not be coerced into making a decision based on the threat of insubordination, Lieutenant," she stated.

Tuvok carefully sliced a bit of pastry and vegetable from his plate, spearing it with his fork. "To ignore such a threat is unwise, however," he pointed out logically. He caught the captain's eye. "None of us is suggesting that a mutiny is the inevitable outcome of not installing the drive, but the crew's inevitable lack of morale and dissatisfaction in that event should be taken into consideration when making the decision."

Janeway started to respond, stopped, and instead took a deliberate bite of her dinner, chewing slowly and carefully. Seven knew Kathryn was bringing her feelings under control and she watched her closely. Certainly, the captain would understand that both Ro and Tuvok were simply offering their honest view of the situation. Janeway would not be a good commanding officer if she did not allow for all the possible consequences of the decision she was planning to make.

"You're right," Janeway said finally. "I would be remiss if I didn't take that into account."

Seven deemed it time to change the subject, or at least, channel it to a less tense variation of the current one.

"Would you install the drive, Lt. Ro?" she asked.

The question seemed to startle everyone, and the mood altered a little, becoming less strained, less a sense of it being everyone challenging the captain.

"I don't know," the Bajoran responded slowly. "It's not as if I've ever been highly motivated to return to the Alpha Quadrant. Until very recently, in fact, I was considered a deserter, and the Federation was the last place I needed to be." She paused, then shrugged. "I guess we should consider ourselves fortunate that we didn't find a quicker way back before now. Suppose the Dominion War was still going on?"

B'Elanna snorted softly. "Good point," she said. "Can you imagine returning to a war zone? Even if a person didn't want to be in Starfleet, if there were any ties at all, I heard that was enough to receive instructions to report for duty. Heck, I even heard the Federation was thinking about drafting civilians toward the end."

"It does make me curious what the makeup of the average starship crew is in Starfleet now," Ro agreed. "When they sent the casualty list of names through in the last communiqué, I couldn't get over how many people were ... gone. So many were those I had known, or gone through the Academy with, or served with on various starships. The 'Fleet was hit hard."

Janeway nodded. "They've actually cut the Academy requirements down to two years rather than the four that we took," she said. "Promotions also came quickly. It means that right now, inexperienced captains are commanding ships with crews that barely know which end of a spanner to use."

B'Elanna shot her a mischievous grin. "You'll be a valuable asset, Captain," she noted. "If anyone knows how to whip a bunch of misfits into a cohesive crew, it's you."

"When I figure out if that's an insult or a compliment, Lieutenant," Janeway said dryly. "I'll respond to it."

"Consider it a compliment," B'Elanna told her. "In fact, Starfleet is probably counting the minutes until it gets you back ... not to mention an entire crew of experienced, seasoned starship officers."

Janeway considered that thoughtfully. "I hadn't considered that," she said. "We might have a professional obligation to install the drive. It's our duty to serve the best interests of the Federation, and by not making every effort to return immediately, Starfleet will continue to be deprived of both a much needed starship, and a variety of personnel who can fill several crucial positions which have been created by the war."

Seven didn't think that was what B'Elanna had been saying at all, judging from the brief expression of surprise that crossed the Klingon's face, but it was a valid point and certainly one that needed to be taken into account.

She picked up her wine and sipped it quietly, wondering if any of this was helping her partner in making her final decision.

Or if it was just confusing the issue completely.

Janeway stripped off her navy dress, and processed it through the recycler, cleaning it. As she hung it neatly in the couple's walk-in closet, her thoughts swirled with the conversations which had taken place over dinner, some of which haunted her with their implications.

Mutiny. It was a word with such an ugly connotation and an even uglier reality. It struck to the very heart of what command was, particularly if that command was based on loyalty, respect, and duty. Lose that, lose the crew's faith in her ability to do what was best for the ship, and she might as well hand Voyager over to Chakotay and retire to her quarters until they returned to their home port. She would no longer be able to function if her crew didn't believe in her.

Yet, at the same time, this was not a democracy, and her ability to command could not be at the mercy of public opinion. It was her job to do what was best for her ship, for Starfleet, for the good of whatever mission was currently being undertaken. There had to be a balance, she knew, between providing a stable and positive environment in which her crew could live and work, while maintaining the discipline and protocols needed for operating a Starfleet vessel.

She sighed as she returned to the other room where Seven had already undressed and retired to the bed. The Borg was perusing a padd, reclined against her pillows which were plumped up against the head of the bed, her knees drawn up beneath the blankets. She glanced up as Janeway slipped out of her robe, hung it on the hook and eased between the warmed sheets, but she did not offer any comment.

The captain felt an unreasonable surge of annoyance when she discovered the young woman was going over the slipstream drive schematics, catching a glimpse of them on the padd's tiny screen.

"I know you want me to install the drive," she said querulously. "Which side would you be on in a mutiny if I decide not to?"

Startled, Seven eyed her, a shadow ghosting across her face. "Why would you even ask me that, Kathryn?" she responded quietly.

Shamed, Janeway stretched out on her back, reaching over to put her hand on Seven's arm apologetically, wrapping her fingers around the slender wrist. "I'm sorry, darling," she said, honestly regretful. "I'm tired, and I'm not thinking properly." She put her other hand over her face, feeling the tension feather along her temples, the ache that seemed to spread up from the back of her neck and down her spine. "I didn't mean that the way it came out. I guess what Tuvok and Ro were saying over dinner bothered me more than I realized."

She heard the metallic click of Seven placing her padd on the night stand, then felt the mattress dip as the Borg shifted onto her side.

"Roll over onto your stomach," the young woman instructed softly. "I shall rub your back."

Janeway felt tears sting the back of her eyes as she obeyed, exhaling slowly while her partner straddled her hips and the strong, yet gentle hands began to soothe her tense, back muscles, kneading out the constriction of sinew and flesh. She groaned as she relaxed, pleasure superseding the stress she had been feeling.

"God, you're far too good to me, love," she muttered as she rested her head on her crossed arms. "Particularly after I've been so cranky, and taken my bad mood out on you."

"I realize this is a complex time for you, Kathryn," Seven told her quietly. "Perhaps you are allowing it to become too intense for yourself. You have made many difficult decisions before regarding the future of the ship that did not cause you this amount of stress."

Janeway sighed. "That's because most decisions are generally made quickly, often in the heat of battle or a crisis," she allowed. "This one I have the luxury of taking my time with, but I'm not sure that's a good thing. It seems to become further complicated the more I weigh the consequences of installing the slipstream drive." She paused. "Or not installing it."

"Do you really think that something will go wrong with the drive, Kathryn?" Seven asked.

Janeway thought about it. "I don't know, Annika," she replied honestly. "You, Harry and B'Elanna all believe it will work. I might not entirely trust Dr. Brahm's judgment in this, because I don't know her by anything other than reputation, but if you three believe in it, then I have no reason to question that. Yet, at the same time, I've seen how things go wrong out here, and how many times we've barely escaped annihilation through sheer providence. God, it wasn't that long ago that a simple response to a distress call ended up endangering the crew with total sensory deprivation and death." She turned her head, staring thoughtfully at the padd lying on the night stand, flinching slightly as Seven's fingers prodded at a particularly stubborn knot near her spine.

"I remember the decision I had to make when Voyager reached Borg space and we discovered the conflict going on with Species 8472," the captain continued quietly. "I felt so alone, trying to decide whether we should attempt to go through or skirt the area altogether." She laughed slightly, but there was little humor in it. "I ended up going to the holodeck, of all things, and asking da Vinci for advice."

"And?" Seven invited softly.

"In talking to him, it came to me to ... 'change the rules'," she said.

"James T. Kirk," Seven offered suddenly. "The Kobayashi Maru."

Janeway laughed again, and this time it sprang from honest amusement. "Still remember your history classes, do you?" she said teasingly. "I suppose he was known best for unorthodox ways, but in fact, it's a standard ... if risky ... method of attacking a problem. I decided to 'make a deal with the devil I knew', to approach the Borg and attempt an alliance with them." She hesitated, then reached back and patted her partner on the knee. "You know the rest, my love. It turned out to be the best decision I've ever made."

Seven bent down and kissed Janeway's shoulder blade, her lips trailing up over the captain's shoulder and nuzzling her partner's neck.

"Perhaps the outcome was positive," the Borg corrected dryly in her spouse's ear, "but as a command decision, it could have been considered ... unwise. The Collective is dangerous, and those on Voyager were quite fortunate not to have been assimilated."

"Hmm, I don't know that I can argue with that," Janeway noted ruefully. "Let's not spread it around, however." She wiggled slightly as she felt her partner sit up again, the Borg's hands resuming their soothing massage.

"As hard as I try, I can't come up with a way to change the rules on this one," she resumed, still thinking out loud. "Either the drive is installed or it isn't. Either it works perfectly, or Voyager has finished its journey to the Alpha Quadrant." She sighed. "We have no idea what's between us and the Federation. We could run into anything; an uncharted spatial anomaly, a hostile set of aliens that can shoot a slipstream ship right out of a corridor ... hell, just a minor malfunction  to the warp manifold could be catastrophic. This is an experimental drive, after all. Then, there's always the aforementioned Borg. Arturis's people may have used their invention to avoid them for centuries, but in the end, the Collective assimilated them. Obviously, the Collective can somehow track a slipstream trace. It might even attract their attention."

"It might," Seven agreed quietly.

Janeway shifted, indicating that she wanted to roll over, and Seven lifted herself up to allow it, settling back down once the captain was finished. Looking up at her partner, Janeway rested her hands on the top of Seven's thighs, her expression serious.

"But how can I base my decision on what might happen?" she asked.

Seven considered it. "You cannot," she said. "Neither should you base it only on what information we do have. I believe there must be some kind of balance achievable between what you know, and what you believe."

"That's what I'm trying to do," Janeway noted with a touch of frustration. "I can't escape the fact that whatever I decide will cause a profound change on the ship, just as my decision regarding the Borg did."

Seven studied her intently. "You have never feared change, Kathryn," she said carefully.

"No," Janeway admitted. "I might thrash about a little from time to time, but I don't fear it. In fact, a lot of the time, I actually embrace it."

"Then perhaps what is disturbing you, has nothing to do with the decision itself, but what it means to your command," Seven suggested.

Intrigued, Janeway tilted her head. "You mean, the idea of a possible mutiny?"

"No," Seven said. She paused, obviously searching for the words to explain the concept that had occurred to her. "For as long as I have known you, your priority has been to return your ship and crew to the Alpha Quadrant," she said.

"Longer than that," Janeway admitted. "Since Voyager was brought here to this quadrant, that has been my priority," she said.

"The slipstream drive will be the final determination of that desire," the Borg said. "Either this drive will work, allowing you to succeed at your stated goal ... or it will not, in which case, you will have failed completely in your promise to your crew. It represents the final statement about your command here in the Delta Quadrant. Perhaps that is the source of your emotional distress."

Janeway stared at her. "God," she breathed. "That's exactly what it's about, isn't it? Using the drive means we'll either go home immediately, or we never will." She swallowed hard. "Am I just trying to delay the inevitable conclusion, Annika? Am I so afraid of facing the ultimate resolution to our mission here?"

Seven studied her. "I cannot answer that," she said, troubled. "Only you can, Kathryn."

Janeway covered her face with her hands, groaning. "You realize, of course, that this does not make the decision any easier to make," she said.

"Perhaps, but once you recognize the personal uncertainties you are feeling, it is possible that you can set them aside," Seven said. "Thus, your decision becomes only of logic, and not emotion. Which is greater, the joy of a positive outcome, or the threat of a negative result?"

"Weigh the pros and cons," Janeway agreed, her voice muffled through her fingers. "Balance them both, and make a decision based on the sum."

She felt Seven grasp her wrists gently, pulling her hands away from her face.

"You will make the correct choice," the Borg said with absolute assurance, her narrow features intent and sincere as their eyes met. "I believe in you, Kathryn."

Janeway smiled faintly. "Thank you, darling."

For a moment, they held their gaze, then Seven carefully leaned forward and kissed her spouse, her mouth tender and sweet against the captain's lips.

"May I make love to you?" she whispered.

The request was fairly simply and straightforward, a question asked many times before by her partner ... so why did it send such a wonderful thrill of desire through Janeway, especially now? How was it that the longer she was with Seven, the more she wanted her? It was supposed to become mundane and boring, particularly after one was married, wasn't it?

"Hmm, will you continue to kiss me while I decide?" she asked.

"Yes," Seven promised, proceeding to do just that.

After a delicious while, whenin time became meaningless, Seven inserted her hands between their bodies, gently covering her partner's breasts, stroking them lightly with her fingertips, swirling lightly around tender nubs that grew firm with interest.

"May I do this while you come to a decision?" she asked politely against the captain's lips.

Janeway considered it. "I think that would be all right," she allowed finally.

More lovely moments passed before Seven trailed down the captain's body, replacing her fingertips with her mouth, providing the sweetest of kisses to Janeway's velvet tips which tingled and ached and caused her to tangle her hands in the long blonde hair to hold the beloved head to her.

"What of this, Kathryn?" Seven question, pausing a moment to lift her eyes, and regard her partner curiously. "May I occupy myself like this while I await your conclusion?"

"As long as you don't distract me," Janeway told her sternly. "I'm trying very hard to make a decision here."

"I will not distract you," Seven promised gravely.

Some time later, after the wonderful mouth had nibbled a line down to the wiry triangle of hair which was nuzzled with lavish attention, Seven paused again.

"Would my tasting you be distracting, Kathryn?" she queried innocently.

Janeway, who was finding it quite difficult to breathe with any sort of regularity, made a sound in the back of her throat.

"Probably not," she managed.

Seven promptly settled between her spouse's legs and proceeded to do the most wonderful things to the captain, until finally, it was impossible for Janeway to think coherently at all. When the last tremors finally subsided, and Seven had made her way back up Janeway's body, covering her mouth with delicate passion, the captain's flavor salt-sweet on her lips, she drew back momentarily to look down at her spouse.

"Have you decided?" Seven asked.

Janeway blinked. "Uh ... what was the question again?"

Then she started to laugh and Seven smiled and they rolled around on the bed for awhile, kissing and caressing each other until Janeway managed to position her spouse right where she wanted her. Whereupon, Seven eventually succeeded in ripping away one corner of the steel bar fastened to the head of the bed with an amazingly loud screech of protesting metal, the fastenings of which shot across the room like projectiles, impacting on the far bulkhead hard enough to leave scratches. In the stunned aftermath, Janeway readily allowed that the bar ... which Seven always grasped with her left hand during lovemaking when the sensation was especially intense ... had probably been weakened over time, and it was unlikely that the captain had managed to do anything particularly special this night that might have caused an unnaturally inspired surge of strength in the Borg. Seven agreed, but noted that it was certainly an interesting thing to have happen, which Janeway thought was the case as well, and how difficult was it going to be to have the thing repaired, anyway? Seven didn't seem to think it would require much, and it was probably something she could replace on her own if she could just borrow a tool or two from engineering. As they snuggled together in the warm sweetness of afterglow, Seven noted that Janeway never did make the decision as to whether the Borg should actually make love to her or not, and Janeway patted the slender arm wrapped around her, promising that she would reach a final conclusion on the request sometime the next day ... perhaps even before morning watch, but if not then, then definitely before they went to sleep the next night.

Seven allowed that was just fine, and finally, the two women drifted off to sleep, delighted that sometimes, there were some decisions that never needed to be made, at all. They were simply understood by all concerned.

Ro Laren heard the voices raised in acrimony long before she actually saw who they belonged to. Moving lithely down the corridor, she rounded the corner to discover Lt. Ayala, a recently commissioned Starfleet officer, glaring at Chell, a Bolian who had been a crewmate of Ayala when they had served together in the Maquis. Their fists were clenched, and their eyes hot and angry as they faced off in the corridor.

She paused, linking her hands behind her back, raising her head.

"Does someone wish to explain this?" she asked, pinning Chell with her dark eyes. Since he was a member of security, she had a certain extra authority over him that she didn't necessarily have with Ayala, who was part of the gamma shift bridge crew.

"No, ma'am," he said, having lowered his shoulders and put his hands behind his back. "We were just having a discussion."

"Mr. Ayala?"

"Just a discussion, ma'am," he said, not meeting her gaze.

She crossed her arms over her chest, and leaned against the nearest bulkhead. "The interesting thing about being designated the ship's 'rover'," she noted casually, "is that my hours are pretty flexible. I can stay right here for the rest of the day until I get an answer. Or until someone like Lt. Commander Tuvok ... or say, the captain ... comes by and asks why the three of us are standing around looking at each other."

The two males exchanged glances, apparently realizing there was no way out of this. Ayala, as the senior officer, went first.

"Mr. Chell was speculating about the future of Voyager," he said stiffly. "I disagreed."

Ro stared at him until he began to twitch, then altered her glance to Chell. "And you disagreed with his disagreement?" she asked.

"Uh, yes, ma'am," he said.

She reached up, and rubbed the bridge of her nose where her Bajoran ridges were. "It was a very loud disagreement," she noted calmly. "I distinctly heard, as I walked down the next corridor, certain remarks regarding the captain, and an upcoming decision she is required to make."

There was a silence, rife with tension.

"She's not going to install the drive," Chell finally blurted. "She's going to leave us here in this godforsaken space."

Ro took a deep breath.

"You have nothing to base that on," she told him.

"Then why isn't engineering already at work installing it?" he demanded. "What's the holdup?"

"Because of the risk involved," she told him. At his blank look, she realized that, as usual, only part of the story had gotten out. "Chell, this is an experimental drive. If it doesn't work, we're stuck." At his continued puzzlement, she added with a touch of exasperation, "We won't be able to restore the warp drive once the slipstream drive is installed. Either it takes us back to the Federation, or we're stuck out here in the Delta Quadrant with only impulse engines."

The way his skin lightened to a shade of pale blue, he was well aware of what that meant, and furthermore, it was entirely new information to both of the men. Ayala might have been arguing on the side of the captain, but he obviously didn't have all the facts at his disposal either.

"The next time you hear speculation on why the captain has yet to authorize the installation," she said in a chill tone, "you might want to inform whomever is involved that there's more at stake than simply when the slipstream drive is installed."

"Yes, ma'am," Chell muttered.

"Aye, Lt. Ro," Ayala said.

"Get out of here," she said, and frowned as they quickly made themselves scarce. Obviously, what she and the chief of security had feared was beginning, and she probably needed to alert Tuvok as to what had happened. They could not hope that this was an isolated incident ... not at this point. In the meantime, however, she wanted to drop by astrometrics, and find out if there had been any response to the request she and B'Elanna had made two evenings earlier.

Seven of Nine glanced up as the Bajoran entered the lab, ceasing in her work momentarily.

"Lt. Ro Laren," she greeted.

Ro restrained the smile. It didn't matter where she met Seven or what the circumstances, the Borg always greeted her the same way.

"Hello, Seven," she said. "I was wondering if there's been any response from Starfleet regarding a message I sent out a couple of days ago?"

Seven keyed some controls, her long fingers dancing over the touch pad. "We received an unusually large message burst this morning," she explained. "I have not yet had the opportunity to decompress or decrypt it. I shall do that now in order to see if there is anything addressed to you."

"Thank you," Ro said, leaning casually against the work station. She regarded the young Borg steadily. "Dinner last night was very enjoyable, Seven," she added. "You're really a fantastic cook."

Seven blushed faintly. One could compliment her on her technical expertise all day, and she would not flicker, simply accepting it, not just as her due, but rather as something that did not need commenting on at all. Her superior skills simply existed as fact. Her belief in her personal abilities, however, were apparently something less certain to her, and it was obvious she was pleased by the compliment.

"I do not match Gretchen Janeway's abilities," she admitted shyly. "But I have enjoyed learning the skills required to prepare food adequately from scratch."

"You learned them incredibly well," Ro noted. "Plus, you've taken it to another level, to where you can actually teach it. Don't think B'Elanna and I aren't aware of why the meals in the messhall are a lot better now."

"Neelix is an apt pupil," Seven pointed out. "It is unfortunate no one took the time to assist him in his role as ship's cook." She keyed in more commands, activating a program of her own devising which swiftly and efficiently organized the decompressed data she had just decoded.

"Do you think the captain is any closer to reaching a decision?" Ro dropped the question in without deviating from her casual stance at all.

It did not fool Seven, however. The pale blue eyes rose to meet the Bajoran's, pinning her in place. "I do not believe so," the Borg said slowly. "Why? Has there been trouble?"

Ro blinked, impressed in spite of herself. Seven was a hell of a lot more astute about things than people tended to give her credit for. "Nothing that security can't handle," she assured her. She hesitated. "It's just that the longer it takes, the more tense the crew will become."

Seven considered that, then nodded slowly. "Yes," she allowed. "That is an accurate assessment. However, I do not believe the captain will be hurried with this. She knows how important it is to make the correct decision. I trust that the ship's personnel will also understand that."

Ro exhaled audibly. "It might mean a little more information needs to be put out there," she said. "Right now, I get the impression that the crew doesn't have the whole story, particularly what is being risked."

Seven picked up a padd and accessed it, downloading information from her console into is memory. As she did, she cast a side glance at the Bajoran. "Perhaps B'Elanna would be the most expedient choice for passing that information on to the crew at large," she suggested carefully.

Ro grinned. "B'Elanna would make sure the right information got into the correct hands," she agreed. "Good idea, Seven. I'll drop by engineering and ask her if she can spread the word about what's really going on."

Seven didn't comment on that, merely handed Ro the padd. "There are two messages for you from today's communiqué," she said. "Perhaps it is what you are seeking. I have also included a message for B'Elanna, since you will undoubtedly see her before I do."

Ro regarded the padd's tiny viewscreen, checking out the files which had been downloaded, including one to her from Starfleet Command. She felt a tiny flutter in her stomach, realizing that this was undoubtedly the news she had been waiting for.

"Thanks, Seven," she said absently as she left astrometrics. She did not hear if the Borg issued any sort of farewell, completely wrapped up in what these messages could mean.

As she strode toward the turbolift which would take her to engineering, she accessed the first message to her. It was dated two days ago, and was actually the first formal orders she had received from Starfleet in almost seven years. Taking a deep breath, she read them:

"As of Stardate 53893, you have been reinstated to the rank of lieutenant, senior grade, serving in an active capacity on USS Voyager, Captain Kathryn Janeway commanding. Upon returning to the Alpha Quadrant, you are ordered to report to Starfleet Command for upgrading in Advanced Tactical Training in order to meet current operating standards."

Astounded, Ro reread it, just to make sure she understood it properly. It sounded like everything she could have wanted or asked for ... so why did it make her uneasy? Not to mention what was contained in the second message, which was from Captain Jean-Luc Picard of USS Enterprise. His letter told her to come to him as soon as she returned, that he had a special request to ask of her before she accepted any new assignment.

She frowned as the turbolift deposited her on deck eleven. It appeared that not only did Starfleet know about the imminent installation of the slipstream drive, they actually expected it to occur. She wondered if Captain Janeway was aware of this assumption, and how it would affect her decision if it came to that. She was also curious as to what kind of request Picard had in mind, particularly since she had told him during their last conversation, face to face, that she was not interested in returning to the Enterprise.

She paused in the corridor to transfer the information to the private work station in her quarters, then lifted her head and stepped through the doors leading to the main engineering level. The large room throbbed with power, the huge warp core in the center dominating the tiny figures of the crew who worked around it. Ro regarded it for a moment, wondering if it would look different once the slipstream drive was adapted to it,or if all the alterations would be of the kind that remained invisible to the casual eye.

"Lieutenant? May I help you?"

Ro glanced over to see Ensign Vorik eyeing her curiously.

"B'Elanna around?" she asked.

"Lt. Torres is in her office," the Vulcan said.

Ro nodded her thanks and he returned to his work. She favored him with a final glance, wondering if the young man harbored any emotional attachment to her partner. At one time, as he was entering his pon farr, he had pursued the Klingon as a mate, and while B'Elanna had been less enthused with the idea ... beating the young man to within an inch of his life to burn out the Plak-tow ... Ro sometimes wondered if it had been entirely logic which had motivated his choice. After all, he worked with B'Elanna on a regular basis, and the Bajoran knew better than anyone how very alluring the engineer could be, without B'Elanna even realizing it.

She discovered her lover buried in padds of schematics and large stacks of miscellaneous equipment which would be better stored elsewhere, the Klingon pawing through them enthusiastically in search of something. Turned away from the entrance, bent over to provide a somewhat attractive view of her backside, it was highly doubtful the engineer even knew she had a visitor, and Ro took the moment to look around the tiny office with a certain amount of distaste. Though B'Elanna had made a decided, and noticeable, effort to be more tidy in the quarters the couple shared, this was unquestionably the Klingon's space, and it reflected her boisterous approach to engineering.

Ro picked her way through the chaos and found a seat, having to relocate a certain amount of equipment to accomplish it. It actually took B'Elanna a minute or two to realize the Bajoran was there, so intent was she on tracking down whatever it was that was eluding her in the cabinet behind her small desk. When she straightened and turned around, she uttered a soft sound of surprise, her eyes widening.

"Kahless, you startled me," she said, plopping down in the chair behind her desk.

"Busy?" Ro asked.

"Not when you're here," her partner responded, offering a ready smile.

Ro returned it briefly and passed over the padd. "A message from Starfleet," she explained. "I think it might be confirmation of your status."

Quickly, the engineer read the padd, frowning as she finally looked up. "It is," she said. "It upholds my commission, and offers me an assignment to the Utopia Planitia shipyards."

Ro blinked. "That sounds like something you'd be well suited for," she noted. She studied the Klingon's face. "What's the problem?"

B'Elanna hesitated. "It's odd," she said. "While I appreciate the possibility, isn't it a bit premature to be offering me a new position? I know I requested an update on my official status, but I didn't ask for any reassignment ... even assuming we return to the Alpha Quadrant soon."

Ro nodded. "I got the same impression in my message," she said. "Seven also mentioned that she had received an unusually large communications packet this morning. I'm beginning to wonder if these letters are actually in response to our requests for updates, or if all the Starfleet members in the crew are receiving similar messages?" She paused, thinking about it. "Lanna, could it be possible that this whole slipstream thing is a done deal, regardless of what the captain decides?"

B'Elanna stared at her with wide eyes, considering what the Bajoran was saying. "Dr. Brahms would have kept Starfleet updated on our progress," she said slowly. "Maybe they're just going with the assumption we'll use it, and are beginning to put things in place to prepare for our return."

"Maybe," Ro said. She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back in her chair. "Or maybe Starfleet Command will just order the captain to install the drive."

"Janeway might not have any choice in the matter at all." Seven of Nine entered sickbay after her duty shift, surprised to find the captain ensconced in the office with both the Doctor and Kes. She hesitated, not sure if she should interrupt, and it was Janeway who happened to glance up to see the Borg standing there uncertainly.

"Yes, Seven?" she asked, in her cooler, 'captain's tone'.

"I have finished distributing the various files from this morning's communiqué," Seven explained. "Since I have a checkup scheduled, I thought I would bring by the Doctor's message personally. He has a letter from Dr. Zimmerman."

Since the Doctor's recent transmission to the Alpha Quadrant, where he had helped saved his creator's life, scientist and hologram had kept in contact by exchanging letters. The Doctor looked pleased at receiving mail, and eagerly reached for the padd that Seven held out.

"You also have several messages which have been downloaded into your workstation," Seven told the captain, though she did not add that at least seven of them were from Starfleet, addressed to Janeway personally rather than the generic 'Vessel Commander' that the usual updates and official files generally used. She tried to have her tone convey that they were more important than usual.

Janeway nodded in acknowledgment. "Thank you, Lieutenant," she said. "I'll access them immediately." She tilted her head, her features softening slightly. "The Doctor, Kes and I were just discussing the slipstream drive. I was concerned what effects there might be on morale if we don't utilize it."

"Indeed," Seven remarked, quirking an eyebrow.

"It could be quite detrimental emotionally, Annika," Kes offered in her gentle, even tones as she regarded the Borg. "Whenever a way home is offered, then is snatched away, it can cause deep-seated feelings of depression and unhappiness. You and I discussed that over lunch one day, remember? It was shortly after you returned from the planet where you and the captain had been stranded."

Actually, Seven had discussed it with Sek, the holographic version of Kes, and while this small, diminutive female was purported to be an amalgamation of both the hologram and her previous Ocampa self, even going so far as to resume her role as the ship's counselor, the Borg continued to be somewhat leery of the woman. She remembered how Kes, in her confused, maddened fury, had actually attempted to kill B'Elanna, and no matter how much the captain assured her that this new being was as much Sek as she was Kes, Seven was not ready to forget that incident. She also didn't like that the woman continued to use her Human designation whenever they came in contact with one another. It had been a privilege accorded Sek early on in their sessions, though the Borg wasn't prepared to make an issue of it, particularly in front of Janeway, who had been thrilled at Kes's return. In fact, Seven suspected that the captain was far more open with this woman, than she had ever been with Sek, but then, Janeway had known Kes for years.

Instead, she ignored the Ocampa's question, and regarded the Doctor who was still reading his letter.

"Doctor, I am ready for my checkup," she stated firmly.

Surprised, he looked up at her, glanced at Kes, then nodded. "Of course, Seven," he said quickly. "This way."

Seven did not dare glance at her spouse, but she was aware of Janeway's face hardening and her eyes narrowing slightly as the Borg followed the Doctor out into the medical center. The captain was well aware that Seven had shifted most of her health concerns over to Sek's care in recent months, so for her to request the Doctor to conduct her routine maintenance would be a noticeable snub of the Ocampa. Seven was sorry that her partner was disturbed by it, but she wasn't ready to grant Kes the same intimacy that Sek had been allowed. Not yet.

Perhaps not ever.

"So, anything new I should know about?" the Doctor remarked cheerfully as he began to scan her. He had not indicated that he had been upset that she had switched medical personnel for minor checkups and the like. Anything serious, he would have continued to handle, of course, but all the other routine medical procedures, Seven had taken to Sek, feeling more comfortable with the female hologram for certain personal matters. But now, Seven realized that he would have to be updated, though she did wonder why he had not simply accessed her medical file through the ship's database.

Perhaps he was merely making small talk.

"Are you indulging in 'small talk'?" she asked.

Startled, he raised his head. "Uh, not really," he allowed. "If you want me to take over your regular medical requirements again, then I would like to know if there's anything that would be relevant," he said. "I can access your file, of course, but I find that having the patient tell me what they believe is pertinent, allows for a better doctor/patient relationship."

Seven stifled her sigh.

"My g-spot has migrated," she said.

He stared at her.

"I beg your pardon," he said.

"The bundle of nerves tha--"

"I know what a g-spot is," he blustered. "What makes you think yours has ... migrated?"

She offered him that flat stare she produced whenever she did not have the patience to discuss the topic at hand. "Access my medical records," she commanded.

He exhaled audibly, stared off into space for a few moments, then widened his eyes. "Oh, my," he said. "But this ... I mean ... it's medically imposs---"

He stopped, looked at her a moment, then took a slow breath. For effect, she suspected, rather than anything else since as a hologram, he certainly didn't need to breathe.

"So," he said, in a weaker tone. "What else is new?"

She quirked an eyebrow. "We finalized the tests on the slipstream drive," she offered. Since it was no longer a secret, it was not anything she needed to avoid discussing.

"Ah, yes," he said. "That was an interesting bit of news. The captain was discussing it with Kes and I earlier. Of course, she required my expert opinion..."

Seven tuned the Doctor out as he continued on in his banal, if inoffensive, manner, giving his opinion about the captain's inevitable decision. Instead, she allowed her eyes to drift over to where Janeway was now alone in the office, working at a console. The expression that crossed the captain's face as a result of whatever data she was viewing, stirred a certain concern within the Borg. Then abruptly, Janeway stood up and stalked from the office. The compact woman's expression was unnaturally strained, though when she saw that Seven was looking at her, the command mask immediately slammed shut over it.

The Borg regarded her quizzically, further alarm rising within her, but Janeway merely offered her a blank stare, the specific look that warned Seven away, indicating that this was a purely professional matter for Janeway and at the moment, the captain simply could not afford to be any kind of spouse to her. Seven didn't like it when Janeway had to be so distant, but she knew she had to respect it. She deliberately looked away, not watching as the captain left sickbay, and instead, turned her attention back to the Doctor who seemed not to have noticed anything at all.

"...and so, it's clear that risking everything on this experimental drive is foolish," he concluded.

"Indeed," Seven remarked noncommittally, since a comment was apparently required at that stage.

"Honestly, Seven," he said, a shadow crossing his dark eyes, "what's so important back in the Alpha Quadrant, that we have to risk the ship for it?"

Seven's brows lowered as she considered that comment. "For many of the crew, it is home," she pointed out. "And worthy of any risk."

"Where is home, really, Seven?" he asked airily as he checked the readings on the nearby monitor. "Isn't it where the heart is? And couldn't Voyager be considered where most of the crew's heart is, after almost seven years?"

He picked up a microfilament adjuster and reached over for her left hand, placing the appendage gently on the top of the console so he could work on it more easily. She studied him surreptitiously as he repaired a minor flaw which had developed in the index dorsal metatarsal band, adjusting the flow ratio from her fingertip to the rest of her hand. Obviously, he was greatly concerned about what he might have to face upon returning to the Alpha Quadrant.

She took a breath. "You did not reveal much about your return to the Federation in order to heal your creator," she said. "Other than the fact it was greatly successful. However, I am curious. Is there something else about that away mission that you would like to share?"

At first, she wondered if he had heard the question, since he did not hesitate in his work, nor offer any kind of response to her. Finally, he looked up and his expression was bleak, one that disturbed her greatly.

"I'm obsolete, Seven," he said. "They've already constructed Mark IV EMH programs."

She blinked. "This troubles you?" she prodded, though such a discovery was to be expected. After all, two years earlier, he had encountered an upgraded version of the EMH program. It only stood to reason that more advanced versions would be made.

"My program is a failure," he said, bitterness coloring his tone. "Starfleet scrapped the whole version of me. The EMH Mark One was reconfigured to scrub plasma conduits on waste transfer barges!"

"Ah," Seven said, stalling for time as she thought about that. "You expect the same thing to happen to you upon returning to the Federation?"

He straightened. "Of course not," he blustered. "I'm sentient. The captain made it official."

Seven wondered who he was trying to convince, her ... or himself.

"You are a unique technological being," she agreed. "I am sure that Starfleet will take that into account when your future is considered."

"But that's just it, isn't it, Seven?" he said, collapsing suddenly, almost as if unable to maintain his bluff. "My fate is completely out of my hands. I don't know what my rights are, or even if I have any. And what about my mobile emitter?"

"What of it?" she asked blankly.

He leaned closer, dropping his voice as if someone might overhear him.

"It's 29th Century technology," he said. "I didn't have it the two times I was transported to the Alpha Quadrant. I don't think they know about it."

"Why are you whispering?" Seven asked logically. "I, and everyone else on the ship, are fully aware that it is futuristic technology." In fact, it was her nanoprobes merging with that technology during a transporter malfunction, which had resulted in the creation of One. Even now, the thought of the drone she had cared for, and who had sacrificed himself for the good the ship, still caused a twinge of pain in the general vicinity of her heart.

He rolled his eyes, but he did draw back from her and resume a normal speaking voice.

"The point is," he said frostily, "they'll probably take it away from me, Seven. Without the emitter, I can't leave sickbay. I'll be trapped, imprisoned for nothing more than being a hologram."

"That is undoubtedly true," she said thoughtfully. "Therefore, you should either destroy it or immediately turn it over to the authorities upon your return."

Horrified, he glared at her. "Then what?" he demanded.

"You utilize Sek's emitter, which is constructed from current technology," she offered calmly. "Though, admittedly, it is based on reverse engineering from your emitter, it does not allow for the same amount of data storage or range of functionality, so it may pass Starfleet temporal standards whereas the original would not."

His face grew still as he considered that. "That might work," he said finally, his tone one of astonishment and perhaps even a growing hopefulness.

"Possibly," she allowed. "However, you should be prepared to further protect yourself." She paused, taking a slow, breath. "Indeed, I am aware that I must also be careful, because I am Borg. I was discussing this with Phoebe..." She glanced at him. "That is Kathryn's sister," she added, by way of explanation. At his nod, she continued. "She suggests that immediately upon my return to the Alpha Quadrant, I retain the services of legal counsel in order to make my status very clear to anyone who might consider me Borg, rather than the Federation citizen, Annika Hansen, I legally am. Perhaps you should also take this advice and force the Federation to recognize your status as a sentient being immediately, rather than waiting for them to place you in a position where you have few options."

He looked somewhat overwhelmed by this, but she knew he could not avoid the situation, particularly now that a possible return was imminent. He needed to start thinking about what he would have to face once he was in the Alpha Quadrant, just as she had been doing seriously for the past few days. She had learned through her contact with Phoebe that she did not always share her sister's perception of Starfleet, holding a far more cynical view of the whole organization. Seven had relayed the news that she had accepted a commission as a lieutenant in her most recent letter to the artist, receiving a response in the morning's communiqué, along with some other, quite surprising missives. She had read them all briefly before coming to sickbay, and Phoebe's letter had been full of strongly worded warnings about what Seven needed to be looking out for, particularly now that Voyager was so close to returning. The need for legal counsel ... civilian legal counsel ... had only been one of the younger Janeway's suggestions.

"Does the captain know this?" he asked, looking at her oddly.

Seven blinked. "She and I have not had the opportunity to talk," she admitted. "However, when things are less complicated, I have every intention of speaking with her at length about it." She paused. "In truth, becoming a member of Starfleet has not been what I expected."

He snorted. "Well, you'd better talk to her, soon," he said. "If the Captain decides to install the drive, we're going to be back in the Alpha Quadrant before we know it ... whether we're ready for it or not."

"Indeed," Seven agreed. She noted that he had completed his scans. "Thank you, Doctor," she added.

"You're welcome," he said. "Listen, if you have a chance, see if you can convince your wife to take time for a checkup herself. It's been awhile."

"I shall remind her," Seven promised. She nodded politely to him and left sickbay, heading for her quarters. She had not yet entered the turbolift when she received a hail over her comm badge.

"Seven of Nine to astrometrics."

She recognized her partner's voice and tried to determine what required her to return to duty, particularly since no kind of ship alert had gone out. However, she did not hesitate as she speculated, tapping her comm badge immediately.

"Acknowledged," she remarked as she stepped onto the turbolift.

"Deck six," she demanded. Janeway glanced at Kes whose soft eyes had followed Seven's graceful form out into sickbay.

"I apologize for my spouse, Kes," the captain said awkwardly, intending to have a little talk with Seven as soon as she had the opportunity.

Kes smiled gently. "It's all right, Captain," she remarked. "She is merely uncertain about me, and sees no purpose in hiding it. There's nothing wrong with that. In fact, it's far easier to understand and deal with than if she did try to hide it."

"Still, you shouldn't have to experience rude behavior from Seven," Janeway said firmly. "I won't tolerate it."

"Captain," Kes remarked, reaching over to touch Janeway's hand, "Please don't confront her about this. Seven holds a remarkable loyalty both to B'Elanna, and to the being she knew as Sek. Don't forget, both stood with her at the altar at her wedding. Right now, she feels that I attacked one friend, and replaced the other, and in some ways, she's entirely correct. That's exactly what happened."

"It's not that simple," Janeway responded stubbornly. "Seven knows that."

"Intellectually, perhaps," the Ocampa allowed. "But emotionally? That is much harder for Seven to come to terms with. She must learn to know me for who I am now, and that will take time. If you force it, however, you might paint her into a corner where she actually does have to make up her mind about how she feels." She leaned forward, her deep blue eyes intent. "Captain, part of Seven's coping ability is her childlike straightforwardness. Please, do not attempt to stifle that."

Janeway exhaled audibly. "Is that your professional opinion?" she asked.

Kes smiled brightly. "Of course," she said. She paused, looking thoughtful. "Honestly, Captain, I owe the Sek part of myself a great debt of gratitude. She found my true place in the universe, and learned the skills I needed to help others. That was true evolution, far greater than what I faced as Kes."

"I'm glad that you feel your place is with us, now," Janeway said softly, even though it was slightly difficult to follow when Kes referred to her previous dual natures in the third person. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you, as well, Captain," the Ocampa said. She glanced at the chronometer on the nearest viewscreen. "But I'm afraid that right now, you'll have to excuse me. I have a client."

"Of course," Janeway said, graciously. The captain watched the ship's counselor leave, thinking about what the Ocampa had said about her spouse. She really disliked it when Seven fell back on her 'Borg' behavior, as she was doing with Kes at the moment, but she allowed that this was the ship counselor's area of expertise, and perhaps she should not interfere. Still, it wouldn't hurt to suggest to Seven that perhaps she be less coldly indifferent, and more compassionate in her attitude toward Kes.

She sighed, then accessed the nearest station in order to check on the messages that Seven had placed such an emphasis on. She raised an eyebrow when she saw that most were directed her personally, rather than as the captain of Voyager, and she read them curiously.

By the time she was finished, she wasn't sure what she felt more: outrage or confusion, both of which were currently seeking dominance in her thoughts. She stood up abruptly and strode briskly from the medical center, not pausing to say good-bye to her partner who was still with the Doctor. She did exchange a glance with her in passing, however and received a very quizzical look from her spouse that indicated she knew something was up. Janeway returned it with a flat glare that warned Seven not to pursue it until she was ready to share. The mild flinch she got in return cut her to the bone, but she couldn't spare the time to explain things right now.

As she strode briskly down the corridor, she tapped her comm badge so hard, her fingertips stung.

"Commander Chakotay, I need to speak with you," she said sharply. "Meet me in astrometrics."

"On my way," came the response.

Ensign Jennifer Delaney was in the lab when the captain arrived. A few pointed words from Janeway convinced the young woman that she should carry out her duties elsewhere, and she quickly vacated the premises, leaving it for the captain. Janeway's motion was short and agitated as she brought up the messages which had so confounded her, tiling them on the huge viewscreen which dominated one wall of the room.

She turned her head as the door hissed open and glanced at Chakotay who joined her at the console. His eyes were turned to the varied windows on the screen, reading the messages which were addressed to Captain Kathryn Janeway, all of which assumed that she could respond to them within the next few weeks.

But she could only respond to them if she happened to be in the Alpha Quadrant.

"I was wondering if I should bring it to your attention," he said dryly, once he had finished scanning them. "I've had my commission upheld, and orders to report to DS5 to take command of the USS Yeager by the end of next month. I wasn't sure if it was wishful thinking on their part, or what."

"It's not," she said flatly, her voice cold. "I've also received this."

He read the classified document silently, his eyes widening briefly.

"Sort of takes the decision out of your hands, doesn't it?" he remarked.

"How can they order me to install an experimental device on the off chance it might get us home?" she demanded in outrage.

"Possibly, they didn't think these orders would be difficult to follow," he suggested.

She stalked away, anger tensing her shoulders and clenching her fists as she paced about the room. He regarded her evenly.

"Captain," he offered finally. "Is it that difficult to follow the order?"

She stopped, and pinned him with a look. "That's not the point," she said.

He inhaled slowly. "What is?" he tried. "The fact that, suddenly, you don't have the ultimate authority over what happens with Voyager anymore?"

Her baleful look heated up, rising to level ten intensity, and courageously, her first officer stood his ground. "Kathryn, so far we've been operating with the concept that we're completely alone out here," he said, spreading his hands. "I'm guessing that Starfleet isn't considering that to be the case anymore. We're back to active duty, and this is our first assigned mission."

"They're not taking into account the possible danger this holds for us," Janeway fumed.

Chakotay frowned abruptly, looking around as if suddenly realizing where he was. "Uh, Captain, why are we discussing this here as opposed to ... oh, say, your ready room?"

She didn't answer, merely reaching up to tap her comm badge. "Seven of Nine to astrometrics," she said in chilled tones.

"Acknowledged."

He looked at her as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. "Oh, Captain," he said weakly. "You're not."

"You have an objection?" she asked with deceptive mildness.

"Hundreds," he responded. "But let's start with the first one. Do you really think you're going to be able to change their minds? Do you really want to defy the first official set of orders you've received in almost seven years?"

Janeway opened her mouth to respond, but at that moment the door hissed open and Seven entered. The Borg regarded them both quizzically, and Janeway shot a final, quelling look at her first officer before motioning the young woman over to the console.

"Hail Starfleet," she demanded. "Punch through a live feed to the MIDAS array on an emergency band, relay it to the attention of Admiral Hayes."

Seven hesitated briefly, then gauged the expression in her partner's eyes, and hastened to obey the order.

"This may take some time," the young woman warned.

"I have nothing else to do this evening," Janeway said coldly.

Seven blinked at that, but she did not say anything else, keying in commands. Technically of course, any officer skilled in communications could have managed this for the captain, but Janeway knew that Seven could do it both quicker and easier than anyone else on the ship. Not to mention the fact that, if a junior officer was going to be present while she tangled with the brass, it had better be someone who knew how to maintain a confidence about what was going on.

Despite the Borg's adeptness at coaxing the most amazing feats out of her equipment, it still took thirty-five minutes to reach the MIDAS array, and even longer to have it relayed to Starfleet Command where, fortunately enough, the planetary time still had the admiral in his office.

"Good thing it's not a real emergency," Chakotay muttered at one point.

"Clear the room," Janeway ordered, as the relay to the admiral finally connected.

Seven and Chakotay exchanged glances, then left as requested.

Janeway stood at attention as the solid, grey-haired bulk of Admiral Hayes appeared.

"This is an emergency?" he asked anxiously.

"No, sir," she said, with what she hoped was just the right touch of arrogance and respect in her tone for dealing with a superior officer. It had taken a long time for her to learn it, and she hoped it had not completely disappeared in her time in the Delta Quadrant. "I have a question regarding the orders I've just received."

He raised his eyebrow. "Good god, Kathryn," he said. "You just started receiving them, again. Isn't it a bit soon to be arguing about them?" His tone was exasperated and long suffering, almost as if she wasn't the first balky captain he had needed to deal with that day. Because of the huge distance the carrier wave was traversing, there was a brief delay between each transmission, though Janeway was able to ignore the pauses in response after a few moments.

"Admiral," she said carefully. "With all due respect, installing the slipstream drive should be my call. It is my ship that's at risk here."

"I was unaware that there would be any hesitation about this," he said blandly. "Dr. Brahms has assured Starfleet that the drive you built on Voyager should work without trouble."

"The operative word being 'should', Admiral," she returned smoothly. "But the consequences if that's an incorrect assessment could be devastating for us. I need to be able to make this decision without interference."

He regarded her intently. "Kathryn, I appreciate you wanting to take everything into account before installing an experimental drive," he said, and a firmness had crept into his voice, the like of which Janeway hadn't experienced for some time. It sent an unpleasant chill down her spine. "I also appreciate that you have concerns about the consequences should something go wrong, but unless you can offer a concrete reason why this method of getting Voyager back to the Alpha Quadrant can't be used, then you have your orders." He paused. "Is there a valid reason why the slipstream drive can't be installed?"

She inhaled slowly, feeling a sick sensation trickle through her. Had it always been like this when dealing with Starfleet Command? Had she forgotten this in the seven years she had been completely on her own without support or backup ... or restraints?

Or was it entirely possible that Starfleet had changed far more as a result of the Dominion War than she could have imagined just from viewing files detailing what had happened?

"No, sir," she said stiffly. "I can't provide any reason that the drive will not function as expected."

His dark gaze assessed her narrowly. "Are you going to disregard your orders, Kathryn?" he asked gently. "You know there's not much we can do about it if you do. You're still a very long way from home."

That one was very much like a knife being stuck in her stomach and twisted, reminding her exactly of where her place was in the larger scheme of things.

"No, sir," she said quietly. "I will not disregard these orders."

He sighed. "Then, Captain, I expect this conversation is over," he said, then forced a smile on his craggy features. "I look forward to seeing you in a few weeks, Kathryn. Hopefully, in person, right here in my office."

"Yes ... sir," she replied, the screen going blank as he ended the comm link before she could complete her sentence.

She discovered she was literally shaking with fury, her blood pounding in her ears, and it took her several moments to bring herself back under control. They had no idea what it was like out here, what it was like to be lost and alone, with no one to lend a hand when things got tough. Of course, it was entirely possible that she would have decided to go with the drive without the order. In fact, 95% of her had been leaning in that direction at this point anyway, simply from the information she had gathered the past few days about the drive, and the mood of her ship.

But this took it right out of her hands, searing her pride like a dash of acid across the face. In a few words dictated by some admiral who had never left Federation space, let alone the Alpha Quadrant, the choice about what was best for her ship had been taken neatly out of her hands. Instead, her only choice had become: would she obey these orders?

A Janeway would never willingly disobey orders. It went against everything she and her father had believed in, and while she may have been ... innovative at times in interpreting certain protocols and regulations out here in the Delta Quadrant, she had always conducted herself in what she believed to be a manner befitting a Starfleet officer. She would not alter that now ... not even when a part of her struggled desperately against this sudden harness which had been thrown about her.

She took another deep breath, calming herself even more.

Am I out of line? she asked herself, trying to be dispassionate. Am I so used to going my own way, to being independent, that what I would have accepted without question seven years ago now makes me feel threatened ... as if my territory had been invaded? As if my honor is being personally challenged?

The unfortunate thing about these questions was that she didn't think she could answer them ... not yet. That would require more experience with being part of the Starfleet chain of command once more.

Only then would she know if this was something she needed to change, or something she merely needed to adjust to. She lifted her head, firming her shoulders beneath the band of command red and went out to join Chakotay and Seven.

There was an announcement to be made ... even if she had little to do with how the final decision came about. Seven of Nine took her plate and found a quiet table in the messhall to eat. Neelix had hastily cobbled together a buffet when news of an impending announcement came down through the grapevine, and after Captain Janeway made the formal proclamation over the ship-wide comm system, it was inevitable that the crew would gather here; to discuss it, to celebrate it, to consider what it portended in terms of the ship. Seven knew that there were some crewmembers who had actually not thought about returning at all, not until this moment, because that was just how they handled being in the Delta Quadrant.

Now they had to.

She eyed her partner who was across the room, a diplomatic expression on her classic features as she talked with the various crewmembers who stopped to speak with her. A great many made a note of thanking her over what was a very difficult decision, which meant B'Elanna had been doing her job in spreading around the real story of the risk involved. Seven knew it was making Janeway actually grit her teeth. She couldn't forget how pinched and white the captain's face had been upon exiting the astrometrics lab, how resentful Janeway felt in having the decision removed from her control, though she had tried hard to hide it from both Chakotay and her spouse. Seven had known better however, and was still smarting from how decidedly distant and cold Janeway had been since that moment, even when they returned to their quarters to change into civilian clothes before coming to the messhall.

"Seven, are you hungry?" B'Elanna Torres offered, finding a place to sit near the Borg. Seven had been so lost in thought, she hadn't even seen the Klingon approach.

"I did not have dinner this evening," Seven explained, scooping up another vegetable pastry from the selection of finger foods she had accumulated.

B'Elanna considered that. "Working late?"

"No," Seven began ... then paused, eyeing the Klingon narrowly. "Are you inquiring about something specific, B'Elanna?" she asked.

"Who me?" the Klingon responded innocently. "Not at all."

Seven continued to stare at her until B'Elanna realized she hadn't convinced her of anything.

"Okay, I'll admit it," the engineer said. "The captain doesn't seem happy about this decision. I'm curious as to why. She should be looking relieved, or at least, ready to tackle any new problems, but instead, I get the sense that she's really angry about something."

Seven looked down at her plate. "I am unable to discuss that," she said.

"Oh, okay," B'Elanna said blandly. "I totally respect that." She paused, reaching over to snag a miniature spring roll from the Borg's plate. "Tell me, Seven," she added casually. "Did Starfleet order the captain to install the slipstream drive?"

Seven's pale eyes widened as they rose to meet B'Elanna's.

"How did you know that?" she asked, her voice rising, and B'Elanna reached out to put a hand on her arm, quieting her as people glanced over at the two women.

"Let's just say, I have my sources," the Klingon said hastily, her expression torn between smug satisfaction at having the correct information, but tempered with the dawning realization of what that really meant. "Kahless, it's no wonder she looks as if she could spit nails."

"How did you know?" Seven insisted, her tone much lower now.

"Guessed it," B'Elanna explained. "Actually, Ro and I were talking about the possibility earlier today. We received our own orders, in fact, and it was obvious that Starfleet's going with the assumption that the slipstream drive is to be installed, and used immediately."

"Indeed," Seven remarked. She puzzled over that bit of news for a moment. "B'Elanna, why would Starfleet insist that we take this possible risk?"

The Klingon's face grew thoughtful. "Well, if they're getting their information from Dr. Brahms, they probably don't consider it much of a risk," she said. "She's undoubtedly assured them that it's passed every test thrown at it, and the only thing left to do is to test it under actual space conditions. Trying out an experimental technology is par for the course for starships. Even the Enterprise has been required to try out new tactical equipment and techniques which have never been used before ... and it's the flagship."

"Yet, if this does not work, we will not be able to return to the Federation, at all," Seven pointed out.

B'Elanna reached over and patted the Borg on the shoulder. "I hate to be the one to break this to you, but in purely military terms, that makes us the perfect vessel to try this drive on," she said. "It's nothing, but a win/win situation for Starfleet. If it works, then they get Voyager and a crew of experienced, seasoned starship officers back immediately."

"If it doesn't?" Seven prodded, feeling a trickle of something she did not recognize thread along her abdominal region. Apprehension, perhaps.

"Then Starfleet's not out anything," B'Elanna responded cynically. "We're not particularly useful to them where we are, and everything we've learned while exploring the Delta Quadrant has already been transmitted via the communications link."

Seven considered that. "B'Elanna," she offered, "that sounds more like the Collective's attitude towards the individuals that comprise its existence than Starfleet should be."

"Seven, always remember when you're dealing with a large group of any kind, sometimes they do what they consider best for the whole organization, rather than for any small minority," the Klingon said. "The good of the many outweighs the good of the few."

"Why was this not discussed in our classes?" Seven said, somewhat disgruntled.

"It was, you just never thought it would apply to you ... or the captain," B'Elanna grinned, showing sharp edged teeth. She stole a couple more pot-stickers from the plate, and Seven realized at this rate, she would have to return to the buffet for a second helping. "But, be fair, Seven, they have no reason to believe the risk is that great. In fact, there's a pretty good chance the captain would have gone with installing the drive, anyway."

"Perhaps," Seven allowed, noticing that the captain was no longer in the messhall. She must have left the gathering while the Borg had been speaking to the engineer, undoubtedly deciding to retire to the privacy of their quarters where she would not have to constantly maintain her command mask. Seven remembered wistfully that the last time Janeway had left a party early, without telling her spouse, it was to prepare a special anniversary surprise for Seven.

The Borg thought it highly unlikely that Janeway would be in a similar mood this evening. She decided that she would remain at the celebration for a few more hours, affording the captain a certain amount of space. She suspected Janeway required it.

"B'Elanna, it would be best if that knowledge was kept between you and me," Seven said firmly.

"I know," B'Elanna said soberly. "We don't want anyone to get the idea that maybe the captain wouldn't have done it without Starfleet Command's interference."

Seven chewed thoughtfully on a pocket of meat in a flaky, pastry shell. "B'Elanna, you mentioned you have new orders?" she inquired.

"Yes, it's a new assignment," the engineer said. "I've been ordered to report to Utopia Planitia. They want me to work in their shipyards there."

"You have no choice?" Seven asked keenly.

B'Elanna shrugged. "You always have a certain amount of choice, Seven," she said. "If you can come up with a concrete reason why that particular posting is unsuitable for you, then Starfleet will work with you to find a better one. They don't want unhappy people, after all. It lowers an officer's ability to do the job. In my case, however, I'm pretty pleased with the posting. It will give me the opportunity to work with new ships and new designs, not to mention getting me caught up quickly on current specs." She nodded toward the other side of the messhall where Harry and Tom were gathered with a group of other crewmembers. "I hear Harry's gotten tagged by Starfleet Command's ship design section. He and Megan will get to live and work in San Francisco."

"They will enjoy that," Seven said slowly, thinking of Little Harry and whether she would get to see him very often once they had returned. What of the rest of the children? Slowly, it was dawning on her what was being lost in this change. She dipped her last spring roll in some plum sauce. "B'Elanna, I have orders to report to Starfleet Command to be 'briefed'."

The engineer looked at her, clearly considering that, her dark eyes troubled. "You don't like the sound of that," she guessed quietly.

"No, I do not," Seven remarked. "Indeed, I am beginning to think that I chose to accept the role of a Starfleet lieutenant at a most inopportune time." She stared unseeingly across the room. "I have also received an offer to join the Theoretical Propulsion Group from Dr. Brahms, which intrigues me greatly, but I believe it would require that I become a civilian again."

"Is that something you're thinking about?" B'Elanna asked. "Of course, they work out of Mars in conjunction with the Utopia shipyards. You and I would be in the same general vicinity, at least."

"That would be another advantage," Seven acknowledged. She inhaled slowly. "I think that I should resign my commission, B'Elanna."

The engineer started to respond, stopped, thought about it. "Does the captain know you're thinking about this?" she asked after a moment.

"We have not had the opportunity to discuss much of anything over the past few days," Seven admitted. "Aside from the decision she was going to make."

"I see," B'Elanna said. She shrugged lightly. "Well, I think you have to do what's right for you, 'Nik. Even if Janeway doesn't agree with it."

Seven rested her empty plate on her knee. "She will not," she speculated gloomily. "She seems so proud of me whenever I put on the uniform."

She became aware of B'Elanna staring steadily at her. "Whatever you decide, Seven," the Klingon advised finally, "do it quickly, before we're back in Federation space. Because once you're there, I'm not sure how much red tape you'll find yourself tangled up in."

"I understand," Seven responded gravely.

The Klingon held her gaze, then nodded. "In any event, we're going to be really busy for the next ten days, Seven," she said. "We might as well enjoy ourselves tonight."

"Agreed," the Borg allowed. She stood up. "I require more food."

"I'm kind of hungry myself," B'Elanna agreed.

"Surprising, since you ate most of my meal," Seven pointed out as the two women went over to the buffet, which caused B'Elanna to laugh and elbow her friend admonishingly.

The Borg tried to enjoy herself for the next few hours, speaking with various crewmembers who appeared very excited at the prospect of finally going home. Even those who held certain reservations, like Neelix and Naomi Wildman, were anticipating the change in their lives. As she mingled, Seven realized she would miss these people greatly. It was obvious that Starfleet considered the Voyager crew to be a very valuable resource and had already made plans to place them where they seemed to be best suited. Of course, a few did not agree, and had indicated they wanted other things. In fact, Chakotay mentioned that he was going to refuse the offer to command the USS Yeager, intending to request a posting to Starfleet Academy instead, so that he could continuing teaching ... and living on Earth with Icheb, the boy whom he had unofficially adopted as his own. Samantha Wildman, in the meantime, would be joining her husband at his posting on DS9, while Tom Paris was greatly excited about an offer from the Enterprise for a helm position on the flagship.

The more Seven heard, the more disturbed she was. The crew was going to be split up, these people who had spent the past seven years as a centralized collective, splintered into individual units of isolation. What did that mean for Voyager ... and her commander? She wondered if Janeway was expected to take the vessel out again with an entirely new crew, or if Starfleet had other plans for the starship captain.

They really needed to take some time to discuss this, Seven decided anxiously. Suddenly, it was as if events were progressing too quickly and she had little time to properly prepare.

It was quite late when she returned to her quarters, surprised to find that Janeway was still awake, sitting quietly on the sofa with Jake's head on her lap, the illumination dim and cheerless. She looked up as Seven entered, her eyes dark and solemn, her face smoothed out in the stillness that came from deep thoughts and introspective musing.

"Party over?" she asked quietly.

"No," Seven responded, coming over to take a seat on the coffee table so that their knees were touching and she could face Janeway directly. "I was merely tired of the crowd." She tilted her head, regarding her partner closely. "However, if you wish to be alone," she noted delicately, "I can return to the messhall."

Janeway's breath slowly trickled out her elegant nose as she pondered the question.

"No," she decided finally. "I'm just sitting here ... thinking. I don't really want to be alone."

Seven nodded, resting her hands on her partner's knees as she leaned forward, offering her partner her full attention if she wished to speak.

"It's coming to an end, Annika," Janeway added softly. "All of it. After seven years, we're going home."

"We are," Seven assured her. "The slipstream drive will function properly. Please do not be concerned with that."

Janeway smiled faintly, but it did not reach her eyes. "Does it matter?" she asked. "I had no say regarding it. My concern is the least of anyone's worries."

Seven's jaw stiffened. "You have every say," she stated firmly. "One word, and neither B'Elanna nor I will agree to install it. Without us, it cannot be done."

This time the blue-grey gaze brightened perceptibly. "You would do that for me, darling?" the captain asked wistfully. "Disobey orders?"

"Their orders, not yours," Seven said. "Never yours." She paused, her tone softening. "Kathryn, my loyalty is, and always has been, solely to you. Not to Starfleet, not to the ship, not even to the rest of the crew, but to you, and only you. Whatever you require of me, I shall do everything in my power to make it so."

Janeway regarded her fondly, her gaze shading to a warm blue. "Insubordinate as hell, and arrogant to boot," she said with dry humor. "What did I do to deserve such a crewmember?"

"You loved me," Seven said simply. "That is something that no one else can offer me. No one else can influence anything I would do, or what I would choose, in the same way you do. Your love is the single thing in this universe that makes me complete."

Janeway leaned her head back against the sofa cushions, gazing at the ceiling, but Seven could see the moisture glistening in her eyes, and she knew her words had reached her partner.

"There are going to be a lot of changes in our future, Annika," the captain warned huskily. "It's not going to be like it was, nor is it going to be easy."

"I know, and we must discuss these changes," Seven responded. "Before we actually use the slipstream drive and return to the Alpha Quadrant."

"If there's time," Janeway muttered. "Starfleet seems to want us back in a hurry."

"We must make the time, Kathryn," Seven insisted.

Janeway's head dropped to study her spouse. "We will," she promised after searching her eyes. "But not tonight."

"No, not tonight," Seven agreed softly.

"Tonight, I just want you to take me to bed and hold me," the captain requested quietly, reaching out to touch Seven's cheek, cupping it in her hand. "Until I stop feeling like so much of this is out of my control."

"For as long as you need, my Kathryn," the Borg responded, reaching up and entwining her fingers with the other woman's, turning her head to kiss the warm palm.

Janeway smiled, and after she allowed Seven to pull her to her feet, displacing Jake who was forced to shift his position on the sofa, the Borg snugged her arm tightly about her partner's waist and led her into the bedroom, absolutely intent on holding her spouse close to her for the rest of the night.

Which might be one of the few remaining that they would share in the Delta Quadrant.

Epilogue

The slight, blonde woman with Slavic features stared out the large window at the magnificent view of San Francisco's Golden Gate bridge arching magnificently over the blue waters of the bay stretched out before her. In the azure sky, shuttles darted, leaving silvery trails, while toward the harbor, Admiral Alynna Nechayev could see Starfleet Academy's current senior class letting out for lunch.

It had taken a great deal to rebuild after the Breen attack had flattened the buildings containing Starfleet Headquarters, and even now, there were areas in the structure that were left vacant because there weren't enough personnel to fill them. Being in these offices was a constant reminder of how vulnerable Earth truly was, and how quickly the political structure of an entire quadrant could change.

"Do you have any doubts about Janeway's acceptance of her orders?" she asked coolly, her pale blue eyes distant.

Behind her, she heard the squeak of leather as Admiral Hayes shifted uncomfortably in the chair. "Janeway's always been a good officer and an solid captain," he responded. "Certainly, it takes a special sort to keep her ship intact for close to seven years without any kind of support or backup."

"Agreed," Nechayev said. "However, we can't overlook the fact that she would also have developed quite an independent streak, simply from necessity." She turned, looking back at the other man. "Face it, Jack, right now, Starfleet can't afford too many independent commanders who don't like to follow orders. Discipline is a priority, and it's bad enough that Picard is running around with the flagship, doing whatever he feels like doing, while Captain Sisko on DS9 ran his station like it was a territory, not Federation property."

"Technically, it was Bajoran territory," he pointed out carefully. Nechayev's temper was legendary in the halls of Starfleet Command, and it was obvious he did not want to trigger it.

"Who should be members of the Federation," she countered immediately, a bitterness in her tone. "And would be now, if it weren't for his interference. That whole 'Emissary' thing went to his head, to the point that he actually ended up dying for it. As a result, we don't have a strong enough Starfleet presence on what is the very threshold of Dominion space. The Federation Council members are fools if they think there'll never be any more trouble coming through that wormhole."

"What's this have to do with Janeway?" Hayes prodded the other admiral back onto the topic.

"I want her where we can keep an eye on her, at least until we know she's back into the fold completely," Nechayev said. "Then we can figure out where she'll best be suited."

Hayes dipped his head, his heavy brows lowering. "I don't think that will be a problem. After seven years, she'll probably jump at the chance to stay ground-side."

Nechayev, who had commanded a starship on the frontier while Hayes had achieved his admiral bars through administration and station duty, did not roll her eyes, but she wanted to. After all, this was the same admiral who was first in the escape pods of his fatally damaged vessel when the Borg had attacked Earth, instead of last as was the unstated protocol. Popular opinion was that he was a windbag, tiresome, if ultimately harmless ... but definitely one of the sheep, not a wolf as Starfleet needed so badly at this moment in its history.

As Nechayev was.  Or what Janeway could be, if what the admiral knew about the captain was true.

"Don't underestimate a captain's need for a ship and the stars to guide it," the diminutive blonde told him sharply. "She might want to get right back out into space." She frowned. "We need to know more of how being out there for almost seven years has affected her ... and her ability to follow orders. So far, I'm not impressed."

"We're in the process of spliting up her crew, we've arranged for Voyager to undergo a complete overhaul upon its return, and we've offered her the choice of several attractive positions both here and on Mars. Do you really think she'd balk, and request another starship command?"

Nechayev smiled with feral intent. "Not so long as her spouse is assigned here," she said coolly. "The Janeway name still has enough leverage in certain circles to get her another command upon request. Her wife, however, has no seniority, and has to go where her orders take her. By arranging it so the lieutenant's position is located here, Janeway will likely want to remain close to Earth."

"Ah, yes, about Lt. ... Hansen," Hayes offered delicately.

Nechayev turned back to the window and her eyes went cold. "You don't have to remind me," she said flatly. "That is our first priority upon Voyager's return."

"We must secure the Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix 01."

The End

•  This is the 39th installment in the Just Between Series.

• There are Accessory Alerts galore in this one. Definitely another one of those PWP stories that pop up in the series every so often. But then, the title sort of demanded it.

• Title provided by Psylocke & Pandora, Tom, Paul Ricca, Dyin' Isis, and frankly, more people than I could list who sent in this particular title and no other for some odd reason. *G*

• This was posted July 7th, 2000.
Just Between The Sheets
G. L. Dartt

0700 Hours

Captain Kathryn Janeway of USS Voyager groaned as she rolled over in bed, stretching her arm out in an unconscious seeking of her partner, only to find cool, empty sheets and the surprising crackle of paper beneath her hand. She frowned and opened her blue-grey eyes, blinking in the bright illumination of morning watch as she lifted her head to look at what her fingers had discovered.

It was a certificate; one which had been composed with old fashioned, very elegant calligraphy on high bond paper ... rare in this 24th century of padds and view screens. She yawned as she brought it closer and read the words scripted there:

"This entitles you to one full day of the captain's time, whereupon you and I
shall seclude ourselves away from everyone else and just be together."

Janeway recognized it immediately, of course, since she had written it and given it to her spouse on the young woman's birthday. It merely surprised her that Seven of Nine had waited so long before utilizing it, but on the other hand, when had there been an opportunity to honor the promise offered by the certificate? Seven was as conscious as anyone on the starship, if not more so, of how limited Janeway's time really was, of how difficult it was to completely isolate the captain from the demands of her responsibilities. In fact, if it weren't for Janeway issuing a ship-wide memo ordering twenty-four hours of R&R after the crew had just spent a very stressful and busy two weeks installing the slipstream drive, it wouldn't have been used at all.

After seven long years of wandering about the Delta Quadrant, this experimental drive was possibly their last chance of returning home to the Federation. Certainly, it would be if it didn't work. Installation required that it be merged with the current warp technology on the ship, and if anything went wrong, Voyager would be left without any type of faster-than-light propulsion system. Janeway believed that the crew needed a chance to rest and refresh themselves before taking this final risk, and had accorded them all a day to reflect on what lay ahead. Tomorrow morning, at 0800 hours, Voyager would leave this innocuous star system in the Delta Quadrant, and assuming everything worked properly, would return to the Federation in time for dinner.

The captain sat up, the sheets falling away from her nude torso as she folded the slip of paper neatly before placing it on the night stand on Seven's side of the bed. Raking her fingers through her tousled, auburn hair, she wondered where her spouse had gone as she glanced out through the door to the living area, unable to see much because of the angle. Before she could get out of bed, however, Seven of Nine entered the room, bearing a tray heavy with food. Tall, with blonde hair that fell over her shoulders, and ice blue eyes, the woman was a feast for the senses. The breakfast on the tray ... waffles with fresh strawberries and cream, juice and coffee, toast and boiled eggs ... was also a feast, triggering the captain's appetite with a vengeance.

"Breakfast in bed?" she said warmly, smiling as she accepted the heavily laden tray from her spouse, and placing it on the bed. "I didn't realize that was part of the deal ... though I'm certainly not complaining. In fact, I should probably be serving it to you."

Seven of Nine, dressed in a crimson, silk robe which fell about her tall, curvaceous body in a most provocative manner, returned the captain's smile. "It is more than merely 'part of the deal'," she explained. She slipped off her robe, and crawled between the sheets next to her partner, arranging herself against the pillows, the blanket draped becomingly over her lap. "It is part of the certificate's requirement. I wish for us to spend the entire day in bed discussing our future."

Janeway quirked an eyebrow as she tapped the shell on her egg, cracking it open. "The whole day in bed?" she repeated curiously.

"Yes," Seven said, reaching over to retrieve her own egg. "I have informed the bridge that we shall be unavailable today, placed top level privacy seals on our communicators, and instructed Chakotay that you are not to be bothered."

"That must have gone over well," Janeway muttered around a mouthful of egg white and toast.

Seven glanced at her from the corner of ice-blue eyes. "I spoke to him as your spouse, not as a Starfleet lieutenant," she explained.

"Ah, that would make a difference," the captain allowed. Recently, Seven had accepted a commission into Starfleet, and there was still a certain amount of adjustment going on, not only by Seven, but by Janeway and the rest of the crew as well. However, the captain was very proud of her spouse, and every time she saw her in the black and blue uniform of the Starfleet Science department, she felt a tiny flicker of pleasure go through her chest. Seven had come such a long way from that bald, pale Borg drone who had insisted that she wanted nothing to do with any irrational group of individuals, and who had demanded that Janeway return her to the Collective.

"That reminds me," Janeway said, scooping out the last of the yolk. "I should have the replicator pattern buffers altered so that we'll be dressed in the current issue of uniforms when we return to the Alpha Quadrant." She reached up toward the comm padd imbedded in the hull at the head of the bed, only to have her hand intercepted by Seven's grasp on her wrist, the Borg having to roll over almost on top of her to prevent it.

"No," the Borg said gently but firmly, her expression serious as she peered down into the captain's face. "This is our day."

Startled, Janeway stared into the narrow features so close to her own, then smiled ruefully. "You're right," she said. "I'm sorry. I guess this isn't as easy for me as I thought it would be."

Seven nodded. "That is why the certificate was such a profound gift," she noted. "You must give up a certain part of yourself today just for my benefit. It means a great deal to me."

Janeway leaned closer, kissing her partner gently. "So tell me," she asked, her tone lowering to a husky trill. "Is talking the only thing we're going to be doing today?"

Seven gave the question all due consideration, eyeing her partner with a lidded gaze. "Not at all," she said quietly, before drawing back to her side of the bed. "Otherwise, I would not require us to remain in bed."

Quite pleased by that response, Janeway settled back against the pillows and took a sip of her juice. "So, darling," she began, as she drew over a plate of waffles and started in on them, "Where would you like to begin?"

Seven toyed with her fork, making patterns in the syrup pooling around her pastry. "I wish to know how you are feeling about our imminent return," she said. "We have yet to talk about that. I know you were not particularly happy when Starfleet commandeered your decision-making process over the slipstream drive."

Janeway took a deep breath, allowing the bite of cream, strawberries and waffle to rest sweetly on her tongue as she considered her partner's words. Obviously, this was not going to be a day of light conversation, but rather a concentrated attempt to get to the bottom of any issues that they had yet to address. Had she expected any less from Seven, however? When the Borg decided she was going to do something, she went after it with a focused determination that Janeway had never experienced before ... except, perhaps, in herself. She should have realized Seven was going to dig out all the old business first, before she went after anything new.

"I admit," the captain said finally, after swallowing, "I wasn't pleased that I was ordered to install the drive rather than it being completely my decision, but that's how it works in Starfleet, Seven. They have the ultimate authority."

"Then why did it upset you so much?" Seven persisted.

Janeway shot her a dark look. Ever since Seven had gone to the ship's counselor to deal with feelings about her parents and her past as a Borg, she had adopted a similar method of digging into the captain's feelings and demanding that they be brought to light, just as a counseling session would. Usually Janeway didn't mind that, understanding it was healthy for Seven and her to talk openly within their relationship, and much preferring to discuss her problems with her spouse rather than a psychologist. The incident regarding the slipstream drive, however, was still fresh in the captain's mind, still remained edged with wounded pride and outrage. She wasn't sure she was ready to talk about it yet, though she suspected that if she tried to avoid it, Seven would go after it with even more determination. Unlike a ship's counselor, which Janeway had managed to avoid visiting on a professional level for most of her adult life, this was very personal for Seven and thus, she was not apt to let things rest. Nor could Janeway order her to let it go as she would her ship's counselor. Seven would merely become stubborn and insist that it needed to be discussed.

Janeway took a soothing sip of coffee, contemplating the whole situation gloomily. Perhaps Seven was right, she decided after a moment. Perhaps she did need to get it off her chest.

"I didn't like it," she admitted finally. "I've been on my own for seven years, and while that's been extremely difficult at times, it's also allowed me an independence of action that isn't possible in the Alpha Quadrant. I'm just going to have to get used to that idea, I guess."

"Why?" Seven asked.

Janeway frowned. "Because that's how the chain of command works, Annika," she said.

"No, I do not mean that," Seven elaborated. "You are very successful when you have only yourself to rely on, as your time in the Delta Quadrant proves. Why would Starfleet not allow you to continue to operate in the same manner?" She sounded honestly puzzled, and like many times in the past, Janeway was forced to step back and look at the larger picture. By explaining it to Seven, she inevitably came to terms with it herself. It took her a few moments to figure out how to answer, trying to offer it in a way that the young woman would completely understand.

"Darling, you're the head of the astrometrics department, and I expect you to make decisions regarding it without requiring my input," she said finally.

"Yes," Seven said, indicating she was with her so far.

"Yet sometimes, I will come in and order you to alter your decision about a particular course of action," Janeway added. "Why do you suppose that is?"

"Because you are Human and inefficient?" Seven suggested blandly.

Janeway paused, sneaking a look at her. Seven's expression was so innocent that the captain knew she was being needled, and she elbowed the Borg lightly in the ribs before continuing.

"No, it's because I'm required to look at what's best for the entire ship," Janeway said, "not just the astrometrics department."

"I understand," Seven said.

"The same thing is true with captains and Starfleet Command," Janeway said, using her last bite of waffle to soak up the remaining berry juice and whipped cream on the plate. "They made the decision about the slipstream drive because they believed it to be in the best interests of the Federation for us to come home, regardless of the risk involved. I just have to accept that."

"But it still annoyed you," Seven noted.

"Yes," Janeway agreed. "For the same reason that you become annoyed when I require that you alter your initial decisions. It made me feel as if I couldn't be trusted to do what was best for my ship." She popped the waffle into her mouth and chewed it slowly as Seven waited patiently. "In this case, however, I have to trust that they know what they're doing, even if I don't completely understand the reasoning behind it. Granted, it's not always easy to do, but sometimes, as a captain, I just have to obey my orders, just as you have to obey yours."

"But what if you are wrong to change my decision?" Seven persisted. "Or in this case, they were wrong to order you to install the drive?"

Janeway sipped her coffee slowly. "Darling, I'm not telling you that you'll never disobey an order," she said. "But if you do, you'd better have a really solid, substantial reason behind taking that action. As a very wise man once told me, if you're going to disobey an order, make it a big one, and you'd better have a spotless record up until that point. Always obey the little things to the letter, because one day, you will undoubtedly have to defy a major order, and the only justification you might have in your defense when it's all over is your past record."

Seven considered that as Janeway continued to drink her coffee.

"You are telling me that you must choose your battles wisely," Seven said finally.

"Exactly," Janeway said, sighing. "I may be annoyed that this decision about the slipstream drive was taken out of my hands, but it's not an order worth defying." She smiled and realized that her lingering aggravation over it had finally dissipated, which she suspected was Seven's motivation behind asking the question in the first place. "The truth is, I probably would have installed the drive anyway. Starfleet making it an order really didn't make any difference in the eventual outcome."

She reached over and patted her partner on the leg.

"After all, I want to go home as much as anyone."

0800 Hours

Seven of Nine finished cleaning up the tray and stored it back in the compartment behind the kitchenette counter. Not far away, the couple's Irish Setter, Jake, watched her with bright eyes and a feathered tail that swept slowly back and forth.

"There are no extraneous remains of our breakfast," she told him, knowing exactly what he was hoping for. "Kathryn was very hungry. In any event, you have been fed, and watered, and do not require additional nutrition."

She realized that he probably did not understand a word that she said, but hopefully he would appreciate the tone of her voice and realize he was not going to receive any extra treats. From the way his ears drooped and his tail slowed to a stop, she decided that he had comprehended the intent of her message.

She returned to the bedroom to discover her partner had taken the opportunity to go back to sleep while Seven had been busy cleaning up the breakfast tray. The captain stirred only when the Borg crawled back into the bed with her, pressing against her compact body.

"Mmm, I must have dozed off," Janeway muttered in a deep, husky tone as she snugged her right arm around the Borg's torso. She used her left hand to gently stroke Seven's long, blonde hair, tangling her fingers in it to feel the silky strands wrap around her hand. Seven purred under the soothing caress, putting her head on the captain's shoulder, and resting her hand on Janeway's stomach which was rounded softly from her meal, spreading her fingers over the smooth skin.

"You inevitably become drowsy after a large meal," Seven noted with dry amusement. "Also, you have worked long hours the past few days. It is natural for you to want to sleep."

The captain yawned, then shivered, as if shaking herself awake. "I'm not going to spend this special day sleeping, however," she promised. Shifting so that she was propped up against the pillows and the headboard, she stretched and rubbed her eyes. "Talk to me, darling."

"What is going to happen when we return to the Alpha Quadrant?" Seven asked, sitting up as well, turning around until she was facing the captain, a corner of the sheet draped modestly about her pelvis, though the upper part of her body and her long legs were left bare. "Immediately, I mean. What shall we do and where will we live?"

Janeway chuckled lightly. "Hmm, well, this conversation will certainly keep me awake," she said. She reached over and lightly rested her hand on Seven's upper thigh, apparently just to be in physical contact with her since it did not go any further than that.

"A great many crewmembers have already received new orders," Seven offered quietly. She did not add that she was one of them. That would come later, after she had determined Janeway's attitude on all the changes in store for them, then she would best know how to approach the captain about the decision she had made regarding her own future.

"I know," Janeway said. She did not sound especially pleased, and must have realized how ungracious that sounded because her mouth twisted into a wry smile. "I guess that's the other thing to be expected. Starfleet isn't wasting any time distributing what is, to them, a very useful resource."

"You do not like it," Seven noted keenly.

"It's never pleasant to say good-bye to family," Janeway said quietly, her eyes becoming distant. "Of course, Starfleet doesn't look at us that way. We're experienced personnel who have to be assigned where we're most needed. I guess that in the aftermath of the Dominion War, the other captains were quick to demand a chance at seasoned officers, and Starfleet Command seems ready to oblige them."

"What will happen to Voyager?" Seven asked. "Will you receive a new crew?"

Janeway paused, glancing at her partner. "No," she said. "At least, not right away. According to my orders, Voyager is to be dry-docked and will undergo a complete overhaul to bring her up to current operating specifications. It will take a year, maybe a year and a half, and I'll either have to wait for the completion of the refit in a ground-side position, or request command of another vessel."

Seven considered that. "What will you do?" she asked.

Janeway was silent for a moment, and Seven studied her partner's face. The captain looked vaguely perplexed.

"To be honest, I hadn't really given it much thought," Janeway admitted. "I suppose I was waiting to see if this drive really takes us home or not."

"The slipstream drive will take us home," Seven said with assurance.

The captain smiled faintly. "Then, I guess that's what today is about," Janeway responded dryly. "To discuss what's about to happen to us and make some decisions." She tilted her head. "Is that why you used your certificate?"

Seven inhaled. "Knowing what you wish to do will contribute to whatever I must decide to do," the Borg told her.

Janeway blinked, as if realizing for the first time that Seven had her own decisions to make.

"Have you received orders, as well, Annika?" Her tone was concerned, and Seven wondered why.

"I am a Starfleet officer now," the Borg reminded her gently. "I have been ordered to report to Starfleet Command upon my return to be 'briefed'. It appears that my status is going to be undetermined, at least in the beginning."

Janeway took a deep breath and looked away. "Damn," she said.

"I am confused, Kathryn," Seven prodded lightly. "You are not pleased?"

She was, of course, aware that Phoebe Janeway, Kathryn's sister, did not trust these orders one little bit ... the Borg having discussed it with the artist in an exchange of letters only a few days before. Seven had dictated her messages and read Phoebe's responses whenever she had a spare moment while creating navigational charts for the ship's return to the Alpha Quadrant. However, it surprised her that the captain also seemed leery upon hearing this information.

"What exactly did your orders say?" Janeway asked, her tone very even, and suddenly, Seven realized she was in bed with her captain rather than her spouse. It was an interesting sensation but fairly disconcerting.

"Annika K. Hansen, your application to Starfleet has been approved and you have been accorded the rank of lieutenant, junior grade," Seven quoted. "Upon return to the Federation, you are to report directly to Starfleet Command, San Francisco, North American Sector, Earth, for immediate briefing and reassignment." She paused. "They did not specify what the 'reassignment' would consist of."

The captain's breathing was very deliberate. "I see," she said.

Seven reached out and touched her fingertips to Janeway's chin. "What is the problem, Kathryn?" she asked.

Janeway blinked, and abruptly, her captain persona disappeared. "I didn't take this into account, darling," she explained, somewhat ruefully. "As a freshly commissioned officer, you simply don't have any clout in where you're assigned. Certainly, I can request your presence on any vessel I command, but without my having a specific berth for you, Starfleet can transfer you anywhere."

"I will not leave you," Seven said firmly.

Janeway smiled. "I know, darling," she said. "I won't let you. Or rather, where you go, that's where I'll be. Perhaps that's why Starfleet has offered me a position ground-side while Voyager is dry-docked; they intend to attach you to Starfleet Command."

Seven somehow doubted Starfleet's motivations were that benign.

"It is ... disturbing, Kathryn," Seven said slowly. "I am afraid that this 'briefing' will be more in the form of a series of interrogations. I am Borg, after all."

"I'm sure it's just a formality, Annika," Janeway said, regarding her soberly, apparently picking up on the young woman's unease. "They just want to get to know you better so they can best arrange your first assignment. I think you're worrying about nothing."

"I do not think so, Kathryn," Seven said. She took a deep breath. "I am considering resigning my commission. As a civilian, Starfleet would not be able to demand I do things I do not wish to do."

Astonished, Janeway stared at her. "I can't believe you're saying this," she said, her tone one of bewilderment and dismay. "You worked so hard to pass your courses."

"I am aware of that, Kathryn," Seven said, seeking the words that would explain it. "I am afraid."

Janeway's face cleared, as if this was a concept she was able to handle.

"Of course you are," she said. "That's perfectly natural, Annika. I'm scared, too."

Surprised, Seven quirked her eyebrow. "You are?" she responded.

"It's a big change, darling," Janeway said, reaching over to grasp Seven's hand, entwining her fingers with the Borg's. "We're essentially going to be out of time for awhile, as if this were a temporal incursion. Yes, Starfleet has sent all the various files regarding the events of the past seven years, but we weren't there, we didn't really live them. It won't be the Federation I remember, or even the Starfleet I remember. That's very frightening, but it's not a fear that we can allow to conquer us."

Seven shook her head. "That is not why I am concerned," she said. "The Federation is only now recovering from a war, which means certain concerns and fears will be predominant. Starfleet Command will be leery of any enemy of the Federation, particularly a member of the Borg."

"You're no longer Borg," Janeway said firmly, "You're a Starfleet officer, and that means something. It means that they'll always look out for you."

"But, Kathryn..." Seven began.

"Annika," Janeway interrupted somberly, "I think you're letting unsubstantiated fears get the best of you." She paused, frowning. "I'm not even sure where this is coming from."

"In her recent letters, Phoebe--"

"Phoebe?!" Janeway looked annoyed. "Phoebe isn't even in Starfleet, Seven. Not to mention the fact that she's always been distrustful of us." At Seven's expression, the captain reached out her hand in a conciliatory gesture, gentling her tone. "Think about it, darling," she added persuasively, "unlike the life I chose, she didn't follow in Dad's footsteps, but she did grow up constantly aware of how much Starfleet impacted her life. It took our father away from us, and eventually took me away, as well. It's natural that she would resent it. However, you have to remember that she's not on the inside as we are. She really doesn't understand how it works, so you cannot grant her opinion that much weight regarding it."

"However," Seven pointed out, speaking louder so that her partner wouldn't interrupt her this time, "Phoebe has lived in the Federation for the last seven years and perhaps would know better what Starfleet has become. As you have said, we cannot know what it was like or how the Federation may have developed as a result of the Dominion war. Phoebe mentioned several incidents where Starfleet did not always act in a manner befitting their own ideals. Indeed, they placed the Earth under martial law at one point."

Janeway, about to respond, took a deep breath instead. Seven realized that her partner was aggravated, but was attempting to moderate her temper.

"Annika," the captain said finally, her voice very reasonable. "I want you to think about this further. Remember everything you learned in your classes? Perhaps there were extenuating circumstances which caused Starfleet to act in a manner that seemed at odds with its ideals."

Seven raised her chin. "Perhaps, I will be an 'extenuating circumstance'," she noted grimly.

Janeway shook her head, her expression grave. "Phoebe doesn't have all the facts," she said. "Neither do you." She paused, obviously struggling with herself about something. "Darling, it's not general knowledge," she said finally, "but certain events that happened leading up to the war were a result of Starfleet being infiltrated by the Founders. They were Changelings, shapeshifters who replaced key members of Starfleet Command and the Federation Council. They also infiltrated the Klingon High Command and certain elements of both the Romulan Tal Shiar and the Cardassian Obsidian Order. That's how the Dominion apparently operates. They create political confusion and strife, weaken a civilization from within, then, when a society is at its most vulnerable, they send in the Jem'Hadar to make a military strike." She squeezed Seven's fingers. "What I've just told you is classified for the most part, Annika. The general public does know about the Founders, but they didn't know how much havoc the shapeshifters wreaked in the upper levels of government before they were uncovered."

Seven looked skeptical. "Why keep it a secret?" she asked.

Janeway tilted her head slightly, her gaze focused on her partner. "Darling, even you know that the truth can cause more harm sometimes, than the occasional omission of that truth," she said. "Had the Federation Council released that information, suspicion and paranoia would have swept through the public, and that would have been exactly what the Dominion was trying to accomplish."

Seven started to answer, stopped, then frowned. Troubled, she stared at Janeway and the captain reached out to cup the Borg's cheek in her palm. "Annika," the captain added. "This is not the time you should be making such a huge decision, particularly since you haven't truly given your new commission a real chance."

"B'Elanna says that I should not wait," Seven said unhappily. "That if I do not resign before we return to the Alpha Quadrant, Starfleet will use 'red tape' to prevent it."

The captain exhaled audibly, clearly exasperated. "So B'Elanna has been at you over this, as well," she said grimly. "No wonder you've become confused." She softened her expression, her hand warm against Seven's face. "Darling, please, give yourself some more time to think about this," she suggested. "If, in a few months or a year, you still want to resign, then I'll push the request through myself. Not that I believe there would be anyone preventing you from doing what you want, of course. Starfleet doesn't want unhappy officers in its ranks. It's far more trouble than it's worth."

Seven nodded slowly, allowing the point. "Yes, B'Elanna did mention that Starfleet would work with an officer to find a place where one is best suited," she said tentatively. "Discontented officers are not particularly productive."

"Exactly," Janeway said, her eyes warm, as her tone became even more persuasive, perhaps sensing that Seven was wavering. "I'm not saying that it's the officer that always dictates where and how one is deployed ... it does come down to experience, as well as the fact that, sometimes, Starfleet actually has a better idea where the individual would best be suited than does the officer in question." She raised an eyebrow. "Take myself, for example. I started out as a science officer, but my superiors determined that I would be better off in command and channeled me that way, even when I had never considered it for myself. It was Owen Paris, as a matter of fact, who first suggested it to me, and my father agreed, telling me that the best officers should assume the larger part of the responsibility whenever they're able."

Seven considered that gravely. "They were correct," Seven said finally. "You are an exceptional captain."

Janeway was pleased by the assessment. "Thank you, darling," she said. She lifted Seven's hand to her lips, kissing the palm lightly. "You just have to remember that Starfleet always takes care of its own ... as do I. I swear to you, I will never let anything bad happen to you. Trust me when I tell you that your fears are unfounded."

Reassured, Seven nodded. "Very well, Kathryn," she said. "I will 'give it a few months'."

"Thank you, darling," Janeway said, reaching out to her with a smile.

As the captain pulled Seven close, drawing her into a loving embrace, the Borg hoped that neither of them would have cause to regret this decision. 0900 Hours

B'Elanna Torres opened her eyes, not needing to glance at the chronometer to know she had slept in. Luxuriously, she snuggled deeper into the warmth of sheets and pillows, seeking out another position to doze. She realized her lover of some months was not in the bed with her, wondering briefly where she was, but not being ambitious enough to go look for her yet. In any event, the sounds from the outer room indicated that Ro Laren was occupying herself quite handily with a workout of some kind, involving some kind of ceramics clanging together, and it was probably not anything that B'Elanna needed to interrupt.

Her stomach chose that moment to rumble loudly, and the engineer tried to decide if she really wanted to get out of bed, regardless of how hungry she was. After ten days of intense work on Voyager's engines, she had needed time off, and when the captain had sent out the memo instructing the crew to take this day for R&R before attempting the trip home, it was like a precious, unexpected break in the clouds, a ray of sunshine to renew the spirit and gird the loins for what lay ahead.

Speaking of 'loins', she wondered, would Ro see fit to return to the bedroom anytime soon? Now that she was awake, B'Elanna's hunger wasn't just for food, though certainly, a big breakfast would hardly be refused at this point.

Almost as if the other woman had been reading her mind, Ro Laren chose that moment to enter the bedroom, and to the Klingon's amazement, the Bajoran was bearing a large tray, filled with dishes. Tall, with dark hair and eyes, an elegant ridge rippling the bridge of her nose, the woman was a vision of beauty at the best of times for B'Elanna. Carrying a tray filled with a Betazed omelet, small bowls of fresh fruit, toast, and juice, she was like a gift from the gods, and the Klingon was sure she had died sometime during the night and entered Sto-Vo-Kor ... because this had to be sheer heaven.

B'Elanna quickly scooted up until she was reclining against the head of the bed. "Kahless, this is wonderful!" she blurted as Ro carefully placed the tray on her lap.

The stoic Bajoran offered a faint smile. "I thought you could use a little something after all the work you've been putting in," she said quietly. "It's been awhile since I've had the opportunity to do it for you."

"Thank you," B'Elanna said, completely overwhelmed. Eagerly, she picked up her fork and speared a respectable chunk of the omelet. "This must have completely cleaned you out of rations."

Ro took a seat on the bed next to her, tucking one leg up under the other, and shrugged lightly. "This is pretty much our last chance to use them. After tomorrow, we're either home, or the extra rations will be the absolute least of our worries."

"I guess that's true," B'Elanna replied. She moaned in ecstasy as she tasted her first bite of egg, peppers, meat and spices. "This is incredible," she said. She flicked a glance over at the Bajoran who was garbed rather becomingly in a sleeveless t-shirt and thigh length shorts, her feet bare. "You're not eating?"

"I've already had breakfast," Ro responded, smiling briefly. "A couple of hours ago."

B'Elanna blushed faintly. "Thanks for letting me sleep in," she mumbled around another mouthful of toast and omelet. She was certainly getting the loving treatment this morning, she thought. Not that she was complaining at all.

"You were tired," Ro noted. The Bajoran stretched, raising her arms over her head. "What would you like to do today? After breakfast, I mean."

B'Elanna enjoyed the play of muscles beneath her lover's golden skin, the way the sinews rippled lithely, as if Ro were a cat or some other exotic, feline-like creature.

"Uh, I don't suppose you'd care to spend the time in bed?" B'Elanna suggested, regarding her hopefully.

Ro blinked and smiled. "It has been a while since we've done that," she allowed thoughtfully. "It might be the perfect way to celebrate our last day in the Delta Quadrant."

"I couldn't think of any better," the Klingon said honestly.

Ro stood up and pulled off her t-shirt, lifting it over her head to reveal small, well-shaped breasts and a flat, muscled stomach. B'Elanna nearly choked on a piece of weberni pepper, and had to chew quickly as she stared openly at her partner undressing, completely enthralled with the form and symmetry of her lover.

There was definitely something to be said for living together, she noted to herself as she shoved the last bite of her omelet into her mouth, barely tasting it. She received similar displays all the time, even when the Bajoran wasn't attempting to put a little enthusiasm in her disrobing. She tilted her head as Ro wiggled out of her shorts, peeling the tight material over her narrow hips and down the long, lithe legs.

Ro smiled as she dropped lightly onto the mattress next to her.

"Don't choke," she warned, reaching over to take a piece of melon from the tray, biting into it with strong, white teeth.

"Too late," B'Elanna told her happily, drinking in the long length of the slender Bajoran stretched out beside her. "You look delicious."

"Maybe I'm dessert," Ro suggested dryly. She took the remaining piece of her melon and offered it to the Klingon who nipped it carefully from her, dawdling over the Bajoran's hand to provide kisses to each finger.

Ro's dark eyes kindled abruptly with a luminous fire that burned intensely hot, and B'Elanna, captivated by the gaze, suddenly found it a little difficult to breathe. Without breaking the molten glance, the engineer quickly retrieved a strawberry from the bowl and lifted it to Ro's mouth, feeling a tremor of sheer pleasure shiver through her as the Bajoran mouthed it from her, her pink tongue slipping out to lightly lick the Klingon's fingertips.

"This is definitely how breakfast should be served every morning," B'Elanna murmured as Ro moved closer to her, her body pressing against the engineer's side lightly as she found another slice of melon and fed it to the Klingon slowly.

"You'd get tired of it," Ro said knowingly, with a smile. "Too much of anything is not good."

B'Elanna laughed. "You're probably right," she agreed. "But for today, this is just perfect." She dipped a Tirellian brieweri in her juice and dragged the pink stick of fruit down the slope of Ro's breast, over the ridge radiating up from the Bajoran's nipple, leaving a sticky trail that B'Elanna, of course, felt obligated to clean up. She bent over and dragged her tongue lingeringly over the sensitive ripples as Ro made a deep sound of pleasure and anticipation in the back of her throat.

"We should probably move anything we don't need onto the deck," the Bajoran suggested huskily.

"Good idea," B'Elanna agreed, and together they moved the tray to the floor. The bowls of various fruit, however, were placed on the night stands within easy reach, as the couple continued to feed each other from them in the most sensuous way possible, involving languid caresses that grew increasingly intimate and intense. Eventually, the Klingon acquired a handful of Terran blueberries and carefully inserted them between the ripples of Ro's f'lar, causing the Bajoran to yelp in surprise. Concerned, B'Elanna stopped what she was doing and peered anxiously up at her lover from her position between the woman's legs.

"Did I hurt you?" she asked.

"No," Ro explained. "You just surprised me." She paused, smiling. "They're cold."

B'Elanna returned the smile, displaying bright, sharp-edged teeth. "They won't be for long," the engineer promised.

"Won't be cold or won't be there?" Ro asked with a lazy smile as she lounged on the sheets, her skin almost glowing against the midnight blue of the linen.

"Both," B'Elanna said, lowering her mouth to the juncture of her lover's legs. "Either. Take your pick."

Using her tongue, she fished each of the sweet little berries from between the tender ridges that were the center of a Bajoran's pleasure, enjoying the combined flavor of fruit and copious moisture seeping from the clefts on either side of the f'lar. Ro apparently enjoyed it as well, her head falling back as she groaned loudly, her hands tangling in her lover's dark hair. For variety, the Klingon reached over and retrieved another Tirellian brieweri which she slipped into the Bajoran's opening, moving it in and out slowly as Ro spread her legs wider, then pushed it deep inside. Hungrily, B'Elanna put her mouth to the entrance and sucked out the firm little fruit, managing to acquire the whole piece in one gulp, not to mention making Ro arch and shiver from the sensation.

"Kahless, I love eating breakfast this way," the Klingon muttered, between her oral caresses.

"I love serving it this way," Ro laughed, between her deep inhalations for breath.

Several pieces of fruit later, Ro was no longer laughing, but B'Elanna was assured that the Bajoran was quite happy, her delighted moans and sighs clear evidence of that. As B'Elanna settled in for a final, concentrated assault on the woman's senses, the engineer knew that this last day in the Delta Quadrant would be a favored memory for the rest of her life, regardless of what happened in her future.

There was absolutely nothing so loving or delightful as being served breakfast in bed.

B'Elanna informed Ro of that once the Bajoran had finally regained consciousness, and Ro laughed, wrapping her arms around the Klingon, rolling them both over so that she was on top.

"S'kwan," she murmured, nuzzling her chin. "Do you know how much I love you?"

"A hell of a lot," B'Elanna responded frankly. "No one else has ever served me breakfast in bed, but you."

"Really?" Ro said, drawing back for a moment to study the Klingon's eyes, her expression soft and vulnerable. "Your past lovers were fools, Lanna. You deserve absolutely the best."

B'Elanna grinned. "I have the best," she said, tightening her embrace.

Ro's narrow face creased in a warm smile and she dipped her head, kissing the Klingon sweetly.

"What would you like?" she asked, flicking the other woman's lips lightly with her tongue, the provocative caress elevating the engineer to an even higher pitch of anticipation and desire.

B'Elanna considered it. "Ah, I wouldn't mind trying out our new ... uh, toy," she said, wiggling slightly against the sheets. "After a feast like that, I'm feeling a little ... you know."

Ro raised an eyebrow. "Amorous?" she suggested. "Wanton? Carnal? Hedonistic?"

"Horny," the Klingon stated firmly.

"Ah," Ro said, raising an eyebrow. "I believe I can take care of that."

She reached over and opened the drawer in the night stand, pulling out a pale, greyish phallus, along with a remote. The sexual device, manufactured by the Ferengi for 'those long probes into deep space', was one of the more versatile and exorbitant accessories in the entertainment menu of the replicator pattern buffer. It had initially come with a stylish wooden box that B'Elanna had inadvertently broken the first night they used it ... though how the Klingon had managed to put her foot through it, neither woman was entirely sure. Extravagantly named the Wonder Wand 9000™, it had cost 375 replicator rations, and the couple had actually given up a recent shore leave to acquire the necessary funds to replicate it. Like most new acquisitions, both women were enamored with it, not yet having become bored with its limitations when it came to intimacy verses stimulation, though B'Elanna had noticed that Ro was not as eager to try out new settings as she had been initially.

The Bajoran examined the remote and keyed in the proper user code, the device adjusting itself accordingly to the Bajoran setting which allowed the base to fit over Ro's f'lar ridges and secured itself to her with tendrils that wrapped around her hips and down between her legs. Sensing nodes within the device transmitted sensation directly to the Bajoran's f'lar and allowed her to feel as if the accessory was an extension of her own body, rather than an inanimate construct.

"What's your preference?" Ro asked, eyeing the Klingon curiously.

B'Elanna contemplated the possibilities. In the short time they had possessed it, they had already tried the Human setting ... mundane, but familiar to both; the Bajoran parameter; which Ro appreciated; the Ferengi version; always good for a giggle; a Romulan setting; which surprisingly, both enjoyed tremendously; and once, a Bolian setting that was so disturbing in its structure, neither of them dared to actually utilize it for the purposes of pleasure. It certainly had been educational, however.

"I am extremely horny," B'Elanna said.

"Klingon it is," Ro remarked, keying in the new parameters.

Immediately, the device reformed itself, changing color to match the Bajoran's skin tone, while the shape thickened and lengthened considerably, protruding veins running along the phallus on all four sides, so predominant that they actually increased the width just by themselves. When Ro had first saw this version, she had flatly refused to allow the setting to be utilized on her, and was considerably leery of using it on the engineer, requiring extensive reassurances by B'Elanna's to convince the Bajoran. The engineer knew size didn't necessarily matter in the larger scheme of things, but it sure made a difference when the powerful Klingon hormones started flooding her system in huge quantities. She suspected that Ro was especially grateful for the device when that happened ... using the accessory saved the Bajoran a great deal of energy and effort that she wasn't necessarily able to spare on a regular basis.

B'Elanna adored the fact that Ro was incredibly skillful while making love to her with it. The Bajoran always seemed to know when to be forceful with it and when to let B'Elanna dictate the pace, when to ravish her partner, and when to let B'Elanna be in control. Of course, the Klingon knew it was undoubtedly a result of the Bajoran's keen sense of perception, the older woman able to pick up subtle hints from the engineer's body language and facial expressions, like any good security officer. Still, it was something that made a huge difference to B'Elanna, making her feel loved and the center of Ro's universe at a most vulnerable time, both physically and emotionally.

This morning was no different. The Klingon burned from her desire, and Ro wasted little time in positioning herself over the other woman, understanding what the engineer needed of her in this moment of need and desire. Though B'Elanna's body temperature was higher than most species, it was still not as high as a full Klingon, so when the phallus entered her in one, powerful, achingly wonderful thrust, it actually filled her with its heat, searing along the sensitive, wet channel with delicious strength. She howled happily, wrapping her arms and legs around her lover as Ro began a rapid, regular rhythm, the engineer's fingertips raking the Bajoran's spine, though she was careful not to use her nails.

There was little that was tender or particularly romantic about this particular encounter, but it was hot and passionate and fit B'Elanna's mood perfectly. She arched beneath the Bajoran, crying out gutturally in her climax as pleasure raked her from the tips of her toes to impact explosively on the inside of her skull, radiating out in powerful waves from her center. Ro paused briefly to catch her breath, then began again, slower, less restrained, and B'Elanna knew that the Bajoran was allowing her own pleasure to rise, making love to her with concentrated intent. The slow, lengthy thrusts provided a different kind of excitement to the Klingon, the probe skidding along sensitive nerves within her, and this time, climax took them simultaneously, their cries mingling as did their perspiration and desire, the Bajoran collapsing on the Klingon who cradled her gratefully.

"Exactly what I wanted, bangwI'," B'Elanna murmured, nipping gently at the other woman's shoulder. "Thank you."

"Anytime," Ro said, blowing away a strand of hair that was sticking to her cheek. She was breathing deeply. "Prophets, this is better than my workout."

"More fun, too," the Klingon noted. She contracted her internal muscles, clamping down on the erection inside her, making the Bajoran twitch. "Do you want me to clean it up and we'll go again, this time for you?"

Ro laughed. "I think I would enjoy a bit of a break," she admitted. She paused, looking down into the eyes of her Klingon lover. "However, after I regain my strength...."

B'Elanna raised her eyebrow. "There is always the Trill setting that we have yet to try," she agreed. "I wonder if the spots really do go all the way down?"

Ro returned her smirk, then slowly, and with obvious pleasure, withdrew from the Klingon. She rolled over and used the remote to detach the device, which B'Elanna, uncoiling from the bed, promptly took from her.

"I'll clean it," the Klingon said helpfully. "You just stay there and rest."

Shooting a look over her shoulder, she leered gently at the Bajoran stretched out on the bed.

"We do have the whole day ahead of us, after all." 1000 Hours

Janeway sighed softly as the couple cuddled together, the Borg's head tucked neatly under the captain's chin. They had spent some time physically reaffirming their love for each other after their initial discussion regarding Seven's remaining in Starfleet ... not making love, but quietly stroking and petting each other, just to show how much she was absolutely adored. The captain, in particular, wanted the young woman to understand how much she cared for her, and that any fears Seven might be experiencing ... though groundless ... were important for them both to acknowledge and deal with. Plus, it was just wonderful to wrap herself around that incredibly warm and attractive form, and hold her close in the soft bedding, a sense of security and contentment surrounding them both.

Seven cleared her throat. "Dr. Brahms has offered me a position with her Theoretical Propulsion Group," she admitted.

Janeway blinked. Only the very best ship designers and physicists were invited to join the group, which was responsible for most of the warp drive innovations in starships spanning the past two decades. It was a post of considerable prestige, but Seven would normally need to be a civilian to accept it.

"I see," she said slowly, wondering why Seven had not brought it up before.

"The Daystrom Institute, the Trill Ministry of Technology and the Vulcan Science Academy have also requested that I consider working with their organizations once I return," Seven added.

"My god!" Janeway was flabbergasted. She nudged her partner. "Why didn't you tell me this when we were discussing your decision about Starfleet, Annika?"

"I was unaware that the two topics were related," Seven remarked.

"Of course they're related," Janeway said, a trifle exasperated. "They prove my point."

Seven rose to her elbow, looking down at the captain blankly. "How so?" she demanded.

"If those institutions, the most renowned and respected in the Federation, want you simply based on a reputation garnered from Voyager's ship logs," Janeway said, "then you can be certain that Starfleet is also aware of how valuable you are. Don't you see, darling? Even if you're only a lieutenant, you can probably demand and receive whatever position you want." She paused. "In fact, I'll bet that they would even arrange for you to become a liaison of sorts, able to work with any one of those organizations, yet remain a Starfleet officer."

"Indeed," Seven said, skepticism coloring her tone.

"It's been done before, darling," Janeway insisted. "Really, this is a case where you can have both, if you want."

"What if I do not know what I want?" Seven asked.

Janeway smiled faintly, suspecting they were coming to the real heart of the matter. "You obviously have many possibilities, darling," she said.

"I wish to be close to you, whatever assignment I accept," Seven insisted.

Janeway reached up and took the Borg's chin between her forefinger and thumb.

"Annika, this might be a case where I'm not really a consideration," she said soberly.

"You are always a consideration," Seven said, her brows drawing together.

Janeway smiled wistfully. "I didn't mean it that way," she said, warmed by the ferocity in her partner's voice. "I mean that you should look at all your options carefully. Take the time to visit all the organizations ... research them, and whatever you decide, I'll arrange to get a posting near where you need to be."

"Kathryn, that is not acceptable," Seven said quietly. "We must decide what is best for both of us."

The captain started to reply, then paused. "All right," Kathryn said after taking a moment to reflect. "However, you still have to check out your best options while I check out mine. Then, we can decide where we want to be professionally. We just don't have enough information to make a decision that important at this point."

Seven raised an eyebrow. "Have you received offers, as well, Kathryn?"

Janeway inhaled slowly. "Actually, an old friend of mine, David Willis, contacted me and told me he was in line for a promotion to admiralty," she explained, drawing her fingertips lightly up Seven's arm, toying with the starburst implant imbedded in the Borg's bicep. "He commands the USS Venture, a Galaxy-class vessel."

Seven tilted her head as she glanced at the captain curiously. "Is there a reason he conveyed this information to you?" she asked.

"He told me in case I'm interested in commanding a larger ship once I've returned," Janeway explained slowly. "Now, I'll be the first to admit that a Galaxy-class vessel would not be my first choice for a command, particularly after returning from the Delta Quadrant. The crew complement is usually over a thousand, and a good percentage are civilian, which has never been particularly alluring for me ... I much prefer smaller, closer-knit, more disciplined groups. But the advantages to such a large vessel can't be denied, and it started me thinking. The bulk of the missions accorded that type of ship are primarily exploratory and scientific, which is a very attractive feature to me, and should be to you, too. Plus, the Galaxy-class ships have the most extensive facilities for families, from shipboard parks and several holodecks to well equipped schools and daycare centers."

Seven drew away from her partner, actually sitting up. "Families?" she repeated, excitement lightening her normally even tone as she gazed down at her spouse. "You mean, children?"

Janeway felt the corner of her mouth twitch in a grin. "Yes," she said. "Of course, should we decide the time is right for that, I want to stay close to Earth until after any children we have are conceived, carried to term and delivered. I also want them to spend the first few months of their development on their home planet." She paused. "Annika, accepting a new command can be a very busy time and I would rather not try to be a full time mother while I'm also handling everything else that's necessary for taking over an unfamiliar vessel and crew. You would need to take on the bulk of the care-taking when that happens, which is why I want to have a few months with them first, when we can both care for them equally."

"But you're saying that we can have children immediately," Seven insisted, a sort of wonder in her tone, as if that possibility had escaped her in all the confusion and excitement about returning to the Alpha Quadrant.

"Yes," Janeway said, reaching up to stroke the young woman's cheek fondly. "I was thinking that if I'm impregnated as soon as we return, I can go after a Galaxy-class command within two years." She paused. "The one thing that the war has done is grant me a great deal of seniority. I can pretty much request any type of ship I want, and expect it to be granted, providing one is available, of course."

Seven raised her head. "But is this what you want, Kathryn?" she asked seriously. "Command means a great deal to you. To give it up for two years would be very difficult for you."

"Perhaps under normal circumstances, it would be," Janeway allowed honestly. "But after seven years here in the Delta Quadrant, and the time it will take to adapt to how things currently are in the Federation, I think this is the perfect time for us to arrange this." She smiled wistfully. "It would be nice not to have the responsibilities of a ship and crew weighing on me for awhile."

Seven considered that carefully, her pale eyes thoughtful. "I find that difficult to believe," she offered finally. "Command is very much a part of who you are. I do not want to pursue this course of action unless you are completely certain that this is what you want."

"It is, darling," Janeway told her firmly. "I've been thinking a lot about our having children, ever since we delivered Little Harry in the turbolift." She paused, a wry smile crossing her face. "I'm not oblivious about my need to be in space, Annika. I simply think we can do both, and this seems to be the most efficient way to go about it."

Seven obviously appreciated that reasoning but she still seemed uncertain. "What if Starfleet sends me away?" she asked softly. "Assigns me to a ship or a space station?"

"I thought we were clear on that," Janeway said. She stroked Seven's knee lightly with her fingertips. "Darling, Starfleet will know what a valuable resource you are, with your fine mind and your technological abilities ... they won't want to lose you to civilian service. And with all due modesty, I don't think they want to lose me, either."

Seven looked away. "I am concerned that you are allowing only for an optimistic view of what awaits us, Kathryn," she said.

Janeway raised her head, began to speak, then paused. "All right, it's possible I'm getting a little carried away," she agreed finally. She linked her fingers behind her head and smiled winningly at her spouse. "Surprising, isn't it? Usually I'm the pessimistic one."

"You are adapting," Seven suggested. "I have become far more pessimistic lately."

Janeway thought about that. "I think you're right," she said, raising an eyebrow. "Is it possible that we just tend to balance each other without even noticing?"

"Perhaps," Seven allowed. She reached up and rubbed her forehead lightly, as if she had developed an ache there. "There are so many challenges facing us, Kathryn. It occurs to me that, while our life in the Delta Quadrant could not be considered particularly easy, it is unquestionably simpler."

Janeway tilted her head. "That's true," she said, softening her voice. "All other things aside, darling, what do you think is really concerning you?"

Seven inhaled sharply, then thought about it for a while, her eyes growing distant as she stared out through the viewport above the couple's bed. Janeway waited patiently, enjoying the play of starlight on her partner's face.

"I am afraid that we will be unable to stay together," Seven said finally.

Janeway nodded. "All right," she said. "That we can put to rest, right now." She sat up and reached out for her spouse, enfolding her in her arms. Seven snuggled close, bending her head to rest it in the crook of the captain's neck and shoulder. "Darling, there is nothing that will tear us apart, not even Starfleet," the captain told her in a tone that brokered no opposition, either from Seven or anyone else that might attempt to challenge her. "I love you and I will not give you up for anything. Regardless of what professional choices we make, regardless of how hard it is to adapt to our new lives personally, I won't let anything come between us. If I have to resign my own commission to Starfleet, if I have to move heaven and Earth to be with you, that's what I'll do. I absolutely swear that to you, my darling."

Seven snuggled closer. "Thank you, Kathryn," she whispered. "I promise to do whatever I must do as well." She was far less grandiose in her oath, of course, but just as sincere.

"I won't lie to you," Janeway continued, stroking the Borg's blonde hair gently. "It's going to be very confusing in the first few weeks ... maybe even the first month or so. There'll be briefings and meetings, and certain decisions will be made that have nothing to do with us but which I'll be involved in because I'm the captain. There may be stretches of days where we won't even see each other."

"I will adapt," Seven said, clearly determined to be as positive as her spouse was.

"It might be a good idea if we set up a home base in Indiana with Mother," Janeway added thoughtfully. "At least until things are settled. That way, you'll have people around you who love you almost as much as I do."

Seven drew back. "I would like that," she said, obviously reassured by her partner's strong-willed certainty in how things would be ... even if the captain had to change the laws of nature to make it so. "But will Gretchen be agreeable?"

Janeway started to respond, hesitated, then looked rueful. "You're right," she said, her voice gentling as reality reasserted itself. "I had better ask her rather than just assume she wants house guests." She paused. "I'm quite sure she'll agree, however. She absolutely adores you."

"It will be a good place for Jake, as well," Seven remarked.

"We certainly can't forget Jake," Janeway said with a smile.

Seven returned the smile faintly, then leaned forward to kiss the captain. Janeway hummed quietly as the full lips covered her own, the sweetness of her partner filling her with warmth and tenderness. The kiss deepened naturally, and it didn't take long before they were sinking back onto the sheets, their bodies entwining in the warmth of linen and each other.

"Will we be able to make love in Gretchen's house?" Seven asked when they parted briefly for breath.

Janeway laughed. "God, I hadn't thought about it," she said, her hands stroking the Borg with featherlight touches all over her torso. "I'm sure we will."

"Very well," Seven responded, satisfied with that.

"Why?"

"You are very vocal," Seven noted. "I do not believe you would wish your mother to hear you in the throes of passion."

The captain groaned, throwing her head back. "Oh god, there's something I didn't need to acquire a mental image of," she complained. "You bring up the worst subjects, Annika ... and at the most inconvenient times."

Seven smiled. "Have you become ... 'inhibited', Kathryn?" she asked, pressing against her provocatively.

"Yes." Janeway made every effort to pout. She hoped it looked adorable, rather than just silly. "I am. I don't know if I can make love now."

Seven slipped her hand down the captain's thigh which she pulled up onto her hip. "What must I do to remove such a psychological barrier?" she asked curiously.

"Well, what you're doing is a start," Janeway admitted, running her hands over the Borg's back. "But it may take some time. In fact, it may also take certain equipment and applied pressure to breach a block like this."

"Ah," Seven remarked, humor coloring her tone. "Equipment?"

"We have a somewhat impressive selection, now," Janeway noted dryly. "Thanks to all those extra rations you and I received for working the last shore leave." She paused. "Though, if I had known we were going home so soon, I would have used them for something else, like clothes for the receptions we will undoubtedly be required to attend, rather than what we splurged on."

Seven nipped her earlobe playfully. "You do not regret acquiring any of those devices," she remarked. "Not if your initial verbal comments while using them were any indication. You must definitely be 'inhibited' while we utilize them in Gretchen's house or we will disturb her sleep."

"Will you stop talking about my mother?" Janeway begged. "Especially at a moment like this?"

Seven drew back, studying her. "I do not understand, Kathryn," she said, puzzled. "Obviously, Gretchen understands about the physical intimacy between two adults who love each other."

Janeway frowned stubbornly. "My mother had sex twice. Once to conceive me and once to conceive my sister," she stated firmly.

Seven looked astounded, then gradually her face cleared and she smiled. "Of course, Kathryn," she said indulgently. "My parents only engaged in copulation once."

"Can we change the subject?" Janeway pleaded.

"Definitely a psychological block," Seven said knowingly.

Janeway poked her in the ribs. Seven tickled her in return, and for the next few moments, they wrestled playfully on the bed before rolling a little too far and falling onto the deck with a resounding thump, causing Jake to bark loudly in the outer room.

Janeway looked down at her partner who had cushioned most of the fall for her.

"Sorry," she apologized. "Are you all right?"

Seven winced as she rubbed her elbow. "Perhaps we should lower our bed," she suggested. "Since we cannot make it larger."

"You know," Janeway remarked idly, wiggling slightly on her Borg, "the bed in my room in Mother's house is even smaller than this one."

Seven raised an eyebrow. "We must acquire a larger one," she said with a certain amount of alarm.

"Or limit our enthusiasm," Janeway agreed. "Maybe we should find our own place after all."

Seven reached up and kissed her deeply. "It is certainly something we must discuss," she agreed.

"Later." 1100 Hours

Seven waited until Janeway had rolled off her, then the couple crawled back onto the bed. The Borg was still nursing her elbow and from the shooting pain, knew she had bruised it severely. Of course, her nanoprobes would immediately gather in that area, healing it quickly, and even as she watched, the deep purple turned yellow, then progressively lightened.

"Are you sure you're all right?" Janeway insisted, regarding her from the nest she was making of the pillows at the head of the bed.

"It is already healed," Seven told her, showing her the spot in question as the last of the discoloration faded entirely.

"Wonderful things," Janeway remarked, as the Borg settled herself onto the captain once more. "Your nanoprobes, I mean."

"You did not think so when you had them," the Borg reminded her.

Janeway grinned and lowered her eyes. "Sometimes, I actually miss them," she admitted bashfully. "But don't tell anyone."

Seven smiled and brushed her nose along the line of the captain's cheek, delighting in the sensation of her partner's body under her own, the soft cushion of breasts and belly, the warmth of the thighs which came up to cradle her hips. She made a soft sound of contentment.

"Do you wish me to put on an accessory, Kathryn?" she asked softly.

"Hmm, why don't you just stay where you are for awhile?" Janeway asked, her arms tight about the Borg's neck. "If it turns out that a toy is what we're both in the mood for, we'll know when the time is right."

"Acceptable," Seven replied, allowing a little more of her weight to settle on the captain, and Janeway responded by tightening her embrace. The Borg's upper thigh was pressed tightly against the juncture of Janeway's legs, and Seven could feel the moisture start to slip satiny against her skin as the captain undulated her hips ever so slightly. It was so pleasant to relax here, allowing their bodies to set the gradual pace, having no sense of urgency or demand, just a slow rising pleasure that held infinite promise for the future.

"I like this," the captain murmured, nuzzling the young woman's ear. "You feel so good on top of me. I feel completely protected and loved."

"I feel very protective," Seven responded quietly. "You have such a large presence as captain that, sometimes, I am surprised when I am reminded of how physically small you truly are."

"But I'm wiry," Janeway protested dryly.

Seven kissed her. "It was not a comment on your strength or ability to take care of yourself," she explained gently. "It was merely an observation on why I feel so protective of you, at times. I wish only to keep you safe from harm, and I believe it is a purely instinctive reaction, based on mass/size ratio. Indeed, when Chakotay, who is so much larger, has cause to disagree with you, it requires an effort for me not to impose myself between the two of you."

Janeway regarded her with a faint grin. "Are you sure that's not jealousy?" she prodded teasingly. "I know that at one time, you had your doubts about him."

Seven shook her head, though she gave the question due consideration. "No," she said seriously. "I feel the same way whenever an alien, who masses more than you, comes within a certain distance of your personal space. It is an involuntary response."

Janeway reached up with a fingertip and drew it down the Borg's cheek. "Do you know what?"

"What?" Seven repeated obediently.

"I feel the exact same way about you," Janeway admitted. "When you're about to go on an away mission or are challenging someone, I have this great need to go over there and stand in front of you, keeping you safe, even when I know your Borg enhancements would be far more effective at protecting you than I ever would." She brushed her lips over Seven's chin. "I think it's just a natural reaction, Seven, to want to protect those we love, as well as harboring the need to feel protected by them." She paused. "Can I tell you something else?"

"Always," Seven said.

"When I was trapped in that prison and you rescued me, it was so impressive that even now, when things are bad, I automatically look to see if you are there to take care of me," Janeway revealed. "I know I'm perfectly capable of looking after myself, but I feel a lot better when you're covering my back."

Seven shifted a little to the side to take some of her weight off her elbows and more onto her side. She didn't want to inadvertently slip and flatten her partner, not when the discussion had become so intriguing.

"I have looked to you for protection as well," the Borg admitted. "Many times. Most recently, when I lost my sight, all I could think of, as I lay in sickbay, was that you would come and make it better ... even though that is highly illogical since you have little medical training. Indeed, since leaving the Collective, you have been the one person I rely on to help me when I am uncertain how to proceed, from the time I had my abdominal implant removed to when that alien posed as my mother and you uncovered her deception. Even when you and I did not entirely agree on the situation, I always believed you were trying to do what was best for me."

"Always, darling," Janeway said softly. "Maybe I haven't always succeeded at preventing it, but I've never wanted anything to hurt you in any way. Any time it did, I felt the pain just as strongly as you."

Seven frowned. "Is it harmful for us to rely on each other so much?" she asked hesitantly. "I know that independence is important for a healthy development."

"I believe that, too," Janeway said. "But I also believe that everyone needs to have someone they can trust, and believe in and be able to turn to when things are bad, as well as celebrate with when times are good. I think that's what makes a good marriage, in fact ... the partnership that is formed between two people who care about each other. It's a trust that goes beyond simply loving someone, and when people aren't willing to grant or honor that trust with their whole heart, the partnership falters and is inevitably lost."

Seven nodded slowly. "Knowing this allows me to experience far less apprehension regarding our imminent return to the Alpha Quadrant," she said quietly.

Janeway smiled. "I feel the same," she agreed simply. "With you at my side, nothing will be too difficult for me to face."

Seven shot a look at her. "Is it going to be very difficult, Kathryn?" she asked.

Janeway shook her head. "Honestly," she allowed, "I just don't have enough information to judge properly, but I do believe that we can deal with anything, Annika, as long as we stick together."

Pressing a little closer to her partner, Seven nodded. "I do, too," she agreed. She paused and ran her right hand down Janeway's side and across her stomach, tracing the upper line of the auburn triangle with deliberate delicacy, then down one side to the captain's inner thigh. "I like it when we 'stick' together."

Janeway raised her eyebrow at the change of Seven's tone, obviously recognizing it immediately. "Hmm, was that a pun?" she asked lightly, her eyes shading to a deeper blue.

"Perhaps," Seven allowed. "It depends on how much we are able to 'stick' together in the near future."

"Hmm," Janeway remarked playfully. "I've never considered it 'sticky' as much as I would ... 'damp'."

Seven ran her fingertips through the wiry curls, matted with moisture at the apex of the crease. "Quite damp," she agreed, sampling the wetness in question.

"I should be," Janeway noted, her gaze steady on the Borg's face. "We've been indulging in a certain amount of foreplay ever since breakfast. It's almost time for lunch."

Seven considered that, eyeing the captain suspiciously. "You are attempting to 'set me up' for another pun," she concluded finally, even as her fingers brushed over intimate lips, swollen and tender, testing their heat. "For that reason, I shall not respond with the obvious reference to the consumption of things other than food."

"So long as you respond with the proper actions," Janeway said, her tone dropping to a provocative trill, her legs parting ever so slightly, "you don't have to do any puns at all."

Seven smiled, staring into her partner's eyes as she finally eased her middle finger along the crease, spreading it apart to touch the vulnerable flesh beneath. Janeway's eyes widened slightly, the pupils contracting, but she never lost that half smile on her face, nor did she break the steady gaze. Her respiration did increase marginally, however.

"Extremely damp," Seven noted.

Janeway reached her left hand between them and began to toy idly with Seven's right nipple.

"How damp are you?" she countered huskily.

"I suspect it is increasing," Seven informed her seriously. "With every passing second."

Janeway's smile widened and shifted just a bit, parting her legs a little wider to allow her partner more accessibility, bringing her knee up. "Perhaps," she suggested lazily, "I should check that out."

"Later," Seven requested, fingertips swirling around the firm little nodule, fondling her with slow pleasure. "I wish to make a thorough examination of you, first."

"Tactile only?" Janeway asked curiously, slightly breathless.

"To begin with," Seven told her. "But eventually, a closer inspection will be required ... both visually and orally."

"I can hardly wait," the captain said dryly. "Do you experiment often like this, Lt. Seven?"

"Frequently," Seven said happily. "Later, I will undoubtedly avail myself of the equipment mentioned earlier ... just to make sure my exploration is as complete as possible." She paused, then added with suitable gravity, " I wish only to be a competent Starfleet science officer."

"I always admire a job well done," Janeway complimented.

"My superior officer demands my best," Seven told her.

"Yes, she does," Janeway agreed. "Of course, I have it on good authority that she has never been disappointed."

"I shall endeavor to retain that level of perfection." Seven raised an eyebrow as she dabbled her fingertips in the opening where so much moisture flowed, then carefully penetrated into the warmth, just enough to make Janeway's smile widen. "Intriguing."

"Yes?" Janeway prompted. "You've discovered something new?"

"Not new," Seven explained. "Merely ... intriguing. It requires further analysis."

"It usually does," Janeway agreed readily.

Slowly, Seven pushed two fingers into the warm channel, feeling the walls clamp tightly about them. Janeway's lids lowered, giving her a hooded look, but she still did not break the gaze they shared, did not look away from her partner's sensual regard. Seven thought she could gladly fall into those wonderful eyes, spend eternity swimming in the deep pools of blue. The gaze was as electric as any sensation the Borg was providing, and she smiled faintly as she flexed her fingers, Janeway's throat rippling as she swallowed.

Hard.

"I believe that I am uncovering the source of all this dampness," Seven mentioned idly.

"Indeed," Janeway replied, her tone remarkably even, despite the tremors quivering through her. "Don't you know that an experiment is invalid when the scientist is both catalyst and observer?"

Seven considered that. "Perhaps I should not go any further," she offered. "If the conclusion is flawed." Her fingertips found that little spot deep inside and prodded it lightly.

Janeway mouth moved as if she were attempting to taste her words before uttering them. "That would be ... unwise," she noted. "I assure you, the conclusion in that event would be most ... dissatisfying."

Seven discovered she was smiling widely. So much of the stimulation the couple derived from the relationship was verbal, intellectually challenging, and to be able to combine playful conversation with lovemaking was a sheer joy for the Borg. Of course, she did wonder on occasion if anyone else not involved would find such repartee particularly clever.

"I would not like to abandon my research just as the varying elements seem to be interacting properly to reach a most interesting resolution," she admitted.

Janeway smiled like a cat. "Oh, I wouldn't assume a resolution," she said, internal muscles squeezing rhythmically around Seven's questing fingers. "Not this quickly."

Seven quirked an eyebrow. "Indeed," she remarked. "Do further elements need to be added?" She brushed her thumb over the sensitive nodule, causing the captain to twitch spastically.

Janeway kept her gaze steady with an effort. "All sorts of elements can be added to an experiment to reach a proper conclusion," she remarked, and Seven thought there was just the slightest uncertainty to her partner's tone, a brief faltering as she unquestionably felt the effects of Seven's exploration.

"I intend to add those elements," Seven promised, pressing firmly on that smooth spot inside. "But not until a preliminary conclusion is reached regarding those currently employed."

The captain could resist no longer, her eyes closing as she arched, her head going back. "Oh, Annika," she whispered, the flutters about the Borg's fingers brief, but sweetly intense. The captain had been quite correct in how long they had been indulging in foreplay, and even Janeway's formidable will could not always counteract the keen responses of her body. Seven felt the captain's fingers grip her biceps tightly until the spasm finally ebbed.

"A resolution, of sorts," Seven remarked, observing this intently. "But I am sure a better one can be reached with further experimentation."

Janeway exhaled a long, slow breath, opening her eyes finally to peer deeply into her partner's face.

"Are you sure?" she suggested huskily. "That was a damned fine outcome by itself."

"On the contrary, Kathryn," Seven reminded her, leaning down to kiss her sweetly.

"We can do much better." 1200 Hours

Commander Chakotay absently lifted the fork to his mouth as he scanned the area around him, curious about the lack of personnel frequenting the messhall. It was usually quite busy this time of day, and Voyager's first officer concluded that most crewmembers had decided, for whatever reason, to remain in their quarters to contemplate their last day in the Delta Quadrant. Aside from himself, the only people currently in the social center on deck two were Lt. Susan Nicoletti, sitting across the room, Neelix, who remained at his post in the kitchen for anyone who might want a home-cooked meal rather than something replicated, Tuvok, who sat alone at a nearby table, immersed in a padd, and a couple of crewmen from geometrics eating together in the far corner.

Of course, Chakotay was not feeling particularly social either. He had only chosen to eat lunch in the messhall because he felt it was his duty to make himself available as a senior officer, should anyone decide they needed to talk. A part of him wondered if the sense of dispersal was already beginning for the crew, that they no longer felt connected to each other as they contemplated their future, and he worried that it was premature. They still had to make the final journey, after all, and if the crew was not operating at peak efficiency, it might allow for a mistake at a crucial time. Perhaps the captain had not been entirely wise in issuing her day of R&R at this stage of the process.

On the other hand, he was also aware that personnel like B'Elanna Torres, Seven, Harry Kim, Ensign Vorik, and others, were absolutely exhausted after the ten days of intense work, and the ship needed those people to be at their very best when the slipstream drive was activated.

The first officer became aware of a presence behind him, and he turned, vaguely surprised to see Tom Paris standing there, holding a tray. He hadn't even seen the helmsman enter the messhall.

"Mind if I join you?" the young man asked, his tone containing his usual brashness, but also threaded with a touch of uncertainty.

The two men had not always gotten along over the years, but gradually, a grudging, but honest respect had developed between the two. Chakotay dipped his head and Tom dropped into the seat opposite him. There was a bowl of tomato soup on the helmsman's tray.

"This was my first meal," Tom remarked, after slurping the first spoonful.

"Excuse me?" Chakotay prompted, not knowing what he was talking about, but somehow realizing that Tom needed to share this for whatever reason. Before Sek became the ship's counselor, it had been Chakotay who filled that role for the crew in many ways, and he maintained the desire to help people under his watch, regardless of who they were.

"On Voyager, I mean," Tom explained. "The first day on board, I went to the replicator and ordered tomato soup. Then, I had to argue with it over what kind I wanted." His blue eyes grew distant. "I remember feeling so alone, aware that everyone who recognized me in the messhall, was looking at me as if I were some sort of pariah. I didn't have any idea where I was going to sit, and it probably took a few minutes to drag up my courage before I took a chance on sitting with Harry. Did you know that he was the only one on this ship who gave me a chance from the beginning, without needing me to prove myself to him?" He shook his head. "We both have come a long way since then."

Chakotay twirled a bit of his spaghetti onto his fork. "All of us have," he agreed. He nodded at the helmsman, encouraging him to continue. "Your plans still the same?" he asked, before putting the pasta in his mouth. He suspected they were, of course, but it was a way to keep Paris talking, and hopefully, they would get to whatever was bothering the other man.

"A helm position on the Enterprise," Tom said, with a decided lack of enthusiasm. "Yeah, it's always been something I've wanted."

Chakotay broke off a piece of his bread. "Funny, a person would think you'd look happier about that," he said.

"I am," Tom said, leaning forward, his face serious. "I really do want to go after this, but..."

"But?"

"But ... I'm going to miss Voyager, you know?" he said. His eyes were troubled. "No one else seems to, but I'm really going to miss being on board this ship. What we did was pretty incredible, and I don't think we've taken the time to realize that. God, we crossed an entire quadrant where no one else in the Federation had ever been before. We encountered the Kazon, the Vidiians, the Hirogen, the Melon, the Borg... and we came out on top every time ... hell, we even managed to make friends with some of them."

Chakotay considered that. "I don't think what we've accomplished is the sort of thing one realizes right away," he said thoughtfully. "I mean, everyone's ready to accept new positions, they've been talking with the family and friends they've left behind, they're ready to move on with their lives. Time will go by, then they'll be able to look back and know they were part of something pretty special. But not right now."

"So why the hell does it matter to me so much?" Tom muttered, discontented.

"You've always been ahead of the rest of us, Tom," Chakotay responded, offering a faint smile.

"Right," Tom said, obviously recognizing the sarcasm. He shook his head. "It still bothers me."

The bulky first officer raised an eyebrow. "That makes sense," he allowed. "After all, you don't know if you really have what it takes to make it back there in the Federation. You think you only became Voyager's best pilot by default."

Tom glared at him, then seemed to realize the first officer was trying to get his goat, and shrugged. "Maybe," he admitted with a touch of bitterness.

Chakotay stared at him, waiting until the young man once more met his gaze. "Until you get settled into the Enterprise, you'll probably keep those doubts," the first officer said honestly. "Just remember, however, they're your doubts, Tom, not anyone else's. You don't get offered a position like that on the flagship because the captain is just randomly fishing for a helmsman. He would have researched you inside and out, and made a decision based on your accomplishments. From what I hear, Jean-Luc Picard doesn't make mistakes very often." Carefully, the first officer speared a meatball. "Tom, we all have reservations about what lies ahead for us, but that doesn't change the fact that we're just going to have to work through whatever comes up."

Tom nodded. "I heard you turned down your own command," he said soberly, staring at the older man.

Chakotay grinned at the change of subject, appreciating how quickly the conversation had turned to pin him down. "Good news travels fast," he allowed evenly.

"Why did you do it, Chakotay?" The helmsman appeared honestly puzzled.

"Command is not what I want," the first officer said simply. "I have things to attend to that require me to stay planetside for awhile ... get back to who and what I am. Don't get me wrong, I'll always love space, but it's not everything to me. There will be plenty of time for it later. For now, I have to put down roots, not just for myself, but for Icheb."

Tom exhaled. "Wow, you a dad. The mind boggles."

"Are you kidding?" Chakotay countered. "All I've ever done is shepherd you youngsters around on Voyager. It will be a relief just to have one kid to worry about."

"But it won't be just one kid, will it?" Tom countered. "I hear they've accepted you for a teaching position at Starfleet Academy."

Chakotay actually laughed. "One thing I won't miss is how fast news travels on this boat, or how many people feel compelled to know my business," he said.

Tom regarded him evenly. "But won't you miss it?" he insisted.

Chakotay hesitated, thinking about it. "Yeah," he admitted. "I guess to a certain extent, I will. It wasn't the easiest situation to be in, but it is something that I know I'll look back on and be proud of how I conducted myself."

Both men looked up as a shadow fell across the table. Neelix spread his hands. "I don't suppose I can get you gentlemen anything?" he asked, though his tone was more hopeful than helpful, the first officer noted.

"Not at the moment," Tom said. He gestured to a chair. "But why don't you pull up a seat? We were just talking about how much we're going to miss Voyager."

"With that, I have to agree," Neelix remarked as he immediately reached over and snagged a chair from the next table, obviously leaping on the invitation. It seemed quite natural that Tuvok would also come over at that moment, to complete the last side of the square, the four men huddled in the center of the room.

"What about you, Tuvok?" Chakotay asked the Vulcan curiously. "You have family waiting, but will you miss being out here?"

"I cannot say I shall 'miss it'," the Vulcan said smoothly. "I do agree, however, that we have accomplished something quite extraordinary over the past seven years."

Chakotay stifled his grin at this blatant indication of the security chief's previous eavesdropping, but chose not to comment on it.

"I'll miss all my friends," Neelix said soberly. "All of you." He paused. "I don't even know where I'll be assigned yet."

"Starfleet is required to find out all they can about you," Tuvok said, and for the life of him, Chakotay would have sworn the Vulcan was attempting to reassure the Talaxian. "Because you are of an unfamiliar species, there will undoubtedly be a period of time while superior officers determine where your talents are best suited." He paused. "You will hold a certain status being the only one of your kind in Starfleet."

Neelix brightened. "Really?" he said.

"It is standard procedure," Tuvok told him.

Chakotay shot a look at the Vulcan, a sort of nod of approval. Tuvok merely raised his eyebrow slightly, as if having no clue why the first officer was offering that particular expression.

"What will you be doing, Tuvok?" Tom asked the security chief.

"I shall return to Vulcan," he responded evenly. "I have a great deal of accumulated leave and intend to avail myself of it. Once I have reacquainted myself with my family, and have set my affairs in order, particularly with regards to Azan and Rebi, who shall be going to Vulcan with me, I will return to active duty, undoubtedly to serve with Captain Janeway again."

"She might not go for another command right away," Chakotay said, before thinking. Three pairs of curious eyes focused on him and he wished he had bitten his tongue.

"You know something we don't?" Tom asked. "C'mon, give. You think she's going to apply for a ground-side position?" He paused, his eyes widening. "Hey, are they gonna have kids? Heaven knows, she really likes babysitting Little Harry. So does Seven."

Chakotay shook his head. "I'm just ... guessing," he said. "Nor is it really my place to be doing that."

Tuvok looked thoughtful. "Regardless of what Captain Janeway does immediately, she is best suited for a starship command," he said. "I am sure that eventually she will apply for another ship, and in that event, I shall request a posting with her."

Chakotay dipped his head. If it had not been for the unique circumstance of needing to blend Maquis and Starfleet, if Chakotay not had Starfleet experience which allowed Janeway to make a difficult decision during a very difficult time, there was no question in his mind that Tuvok would have fulfilled the role of Voyager's first officer. In fact, it probably should have been the Vulcan's all along. Chakotay thought that Tuvok might have been able to handle the captain better during certain situations if he had possessed the authority of a first officer. Not that there was much point speculating about it. They were where they were, on the eve of ending a seven year run, and there was no going back to change the past.

No matter how many temporal excursions they had experienced that might indicate otherwise.

Chakotay merely wondered on occasion what would have happened had he made different choices in his life. Years from now, would he also look back to this time in his life and regret the choice he made, of pursuing a career in teaching rather than accepting command of a starship? Or would he breathe a sigh of relief that he had made exactly the right choice at the right time?

"So let's raise a glass to the grand old lady," Tom said, doing just that with his water.

Chakotay blinked. "Janeway?" he asked blankly.

Tom looked horrified. "God, no, Voyager," he said. "Weren't you listening?"

Chakotay realized that he had been lost in thought, missing most of the conversation.

"Sorry," he apologized, raising his own glass. "What was the toast?"

Tom stared at him oddly, then finally began again.

"To the grand old lady," he said. "She kept us safe, she held together against everything this quadrant had to throw at her, and finally, she'll take us home."

"To Voyager," the other three men chimed, including Tuvok, and they lifted their drinks high, clinking them together, the four men making their own form of good-bye to their vessel in this moment of shared sentimentality. This might be their only opportunity, expecting the next day to be busy indeed, and their faces were thoughtful as they each drained their drinks.

And for the first time, Chakotay truly understood what he ... what all of his companions ... were actually losing. 1300 Hours

Seven stared at the captain quizzically.

"You want me to put it on?" she said. "But we replicated it for your use."

Janeway smiled. "I know," she said, holding out the Mini Marvel 450™, a small sexual aid that the couple had initially discovered during a recent excursion in the holodeck. "I have something specific in mind."

For Seven, who had retained a certain amount of damage to her body from her existence as a Borg, the diminutive accessory was the only penile type penetration she would accept. The artificial phallus was approximately the size of Janeway's middle and index fingers, both in width and length ... the captain acquiring the measurements personally ... and while the Borg did not always understand the reasoning behind it, she usually appreciated the rare occasion that the couple had utilized it. However, it was always the captain who wore it, not the young woman.

Warily, Seven accepted it, eyeing the captain suspiciously.

"What do you have in mind?" she demanded.

"Trust me," Janeway insisted.

"What of lunch?" Seven asked.

Janeway smiled widely. "In a while," she promised. "Before that, however, I want to show you something."

"What?" Seven said stubbornly.

"You have to put it on, first."

The young woman continued to hesitate. "I think you just wish to utilize all our accessories in one day," she finally accused her partner.

Janeway, who still throbbed pleasantly from earlier when Seven had wielded the Wonder Wand 9000™ with the most tender and remarkable skill, merely smiled.

"You make it sound like a bad thing," she said lightly.

Seven considered it. "It is not," she said. "However, I wish to continue our earlier discussion regarding our future."

"We will," Janeway promised, "over lunch." She could see that the Borg was deliberately being difficult at this point. Usually Seven was open to whatever Janeway offered, and the glint in her pale eyes, the way she eyed the device in her hands, let the captain know that the Borg was quite intrigued at this point ... she just wanted to be 'wooed' by the captain.

"It'll be educational," Janeway offered enticingly.

Seven exhaled audibly, looking at the captain closely, then almost, but not quite, rolled her eyes before reclining against the sheets, which Janeway thought was a bit much. She smiled as Seven placed the flat end of the tiny probe against her intimate flesh, the orifice covering her nodule snugly and shooting tendrils from the base to wrap around her legs. Like the larger devices, the Mini Marvel 450™ transmitted sensation directly to the user, allowing her to feel as if it were an extension of her own body. Unlike the larger models, however, it was incapable of being programmed to change shape, size or color ... though it did have a chameleon feature which adapted it to the wielder's skin tone. When Seven was finished attaching the device, it protruded from just beneath the golden triangle with arrogant, pinkish intent, thrusting into the air as if to challenge anything that might dare to be larger.

Janeway thought it was absolutely adorable, bestowing the tiny device with a personality she did not accord their other 'toys'. She had even secretly and affectionately christened it 'Tiny', though she hadn't shared that bit of information with the Borg, suspecting it would be far too difficult to explain.

"How will this be educational?" Seven asked as she regarded her partner.

"You're going to learn a different form of enjoyment," the captain said as she leaned over, kissing the inside of the Borg's leg, just above her knee.

"I am always intrigued by new experiences," the Borg allowed hastily.

Janeway smiled and nuzzled the silken skin of the young woman's thigh, kissing a line up to where the small probe protruded proudly. She eyed it a moment, bending closer, her warm breath exhaling over it and making Seven squirm in response. Then the captain carefully licked it, a slow dragging of her tongue up the underside before covering it with her mouth, swirling her tongue thickly around it as she settled down to suck on it lightly.

"Oh!" The exclamation was significantly louder than the Borg was in the habit of issuing, and Seven looked down at her with wide eyes, her upper body rising off the bed in reaction to the sensation. "Kathryn!"

"I thought you might like that," Janeway said, smiling as she drew away for a moment, using her fingertips to stroke it lightly as she talked. "You know, men find this form of oral stimulation very pleasurable."

Seven regarded her evenly, her expression changing to one which was less intrigued with the sensation, all of a sudden, and far more focused on the captain's expression. "Did you do this to the men you have loved in the past?" she asked flatly.

Oh boy, Janeway thought, suddenly panicked, I absolutely should have expected that question. Desperately, she searched for a way to explain it so that the Borg would understand.

"Darling, when you care for someone deeply," she said finally, after considering several other responses, "you truly enjoy pleasuring them. Just as I love your body and making love to it in as many ways as I can, I also enjoyed making love to the men in my life."

"Are you fantasizing about one of those experiences while doing this?" Seven demanded.

"Of course not!" Janeway responded indignantly. "I would never do that."

The Borg consider it, then lowered her brows. "I do not believe this is something I will enjoy," she decided coolly.

Janeway sighed. She hadn't managed this properly at all, she realized, which was truly unfortunate. She had only wanted to introduce Seven to a new pleasure rather than provide the young woman with a host of mental images she really didn't want to have. The captain propped her chin on her hand as her fingers continued to toy gently with the probe.

Seven regarded her oddly. "Why did you choose the smaller device?" she asked. "Why not have me retain the Wonder Wand?"

"A few reasons," Janeway admitted. "This accessory is more responsive than the wand, perhaps because the sensation has a shorter distance to travel, and it looks more like an extension of your clitoris, rather than anything else. Secondly, the size makes it more ... manageable for the caresses I can do with my tongue." She grinned. "Despite rumors to the contrary, I really don't have a big mouth."

Seven did not change expression at all at this attempt at wit, and Janeway sighed again.

"Take it off," she said with resignation.

"Thank you," Seven said, and immediately removed it.

"I honestly meant for you to enjoy this," the captain said softly from her place between the Borg's legs as she watched Seven drop the device on the night stand. The captain's hand rested lightly on the blonde triangle, her fingertips scratching idly through the thin curls as she regarded her partner wistfully.

Seven paused, then reached down and cupped Janeway's chin, her fingers warm against the captain's skin. "I understand, Kathryn," she said softly. "There are just some things that do not please me, just as there are things I try with you that you find less than entirely pleasant. But the love with which such attempts are made is always recognized and appreciated."

Janeway smiled faintly. "I understand, darling," she said. She patted Seven on the stomach. "Want some lunch?"

"Now, you are hungry?" Seven looked vaguely amused.

"Well, you wouldn't let me eat what I wanted," Janeway grumbled.

That earned her a little swat across her bare buttocks that stung mildly as the Borg rolled out of the bed and padded naked out into the other room. Astounded, Janeway stared after Seven, having no idea where the gesture had come from, nor was she sure she necessarily wanted to know. There was something curiously endearing about it, however, as if it had been completely unconscious on the Borg's part.

"Are we eating lunch out there?" she called after a moment.

"No," Seven demanded. "Remain in the bed. I will be a few moments."

Janeway smiled but got up anyway. While her partner prepared lunch, the captain stripped the bed and replaced the sheets with fresh linen, then hustled into the ensuite to take a quick shower, taking the accessories in with her to clean them. She returned them to the box that the couple had acquired to contain all their 'accessories', and left it next to their bed in the event they might find use for any of them again, though normally, it was stored under the bed, the top sealed so that their dog would not be tempted to utilize any of the devices as chew toys. By the time she crawled back onto the freshly made bed, Seven had entered with a tray.

The Borg blinked as she saw the neat bedding and the freshly showered captain reclining on top of it.

"I also require a shower," she remarked promptly as she placed two mugs of soup and some kind of sandwich wraps on the night stand. Janeway noted that the selection was the perfect kind of meal for consuming in bed.

"I'll wait," Janeway promised, as she sat cross-legged on the silky sheets, though the smell wafting from the meal was flooding her mouth with anticipation and making her stomach rumble.

Seven didn't take long, a quick run through the hydro setting, before returning to her partner, devoid of any sign of their previous exertions. It wasn't that the women didn't enjoy having each other's essence over them, Janeway knew, but taking a moment to refresh themselves, granted them a new burst of energy, as if they were beginning all over again. Considering how well the morning had gone, the captain could only look forward to the afternoon with keen enthusiasm.

"These are extremely good," the captain remarked as she tried her first wrap. The flat bread contained a combination of chicken pieces, lettuce, peppers, tomato, onions and some sort of dressing that she couldn't quite recognize. It was absolutely delicious, but she knew she would have to avail herself of a mouth freshener later ... the onions were particularly piquant. "I've never had these before. They can't possibly be from one of Mother's recipes."

"Actually, it is a recipe I acquired from Neelix," Seven said. "Adapted to our particular tastes in filling, of course. I think the flat bread allows for a great deal more variety than traditional bread does."

Janeway smiled, reaching over to pat her partner's leg as she sipped her soup, a broth containing tiny noodles and celery bits, thin enough to wash down the bites of wrap quite nicely.

"You know, we could always give the whole thing up," she said.

Seven regarded her curiously.

"What?" she asked.

"Starfleet, science, starships, traveling through space ... we should just find ourselves a place to settle down and open a restaurant. You could cook, and I'd wait tables. We'd probably be the most successful eating establishment in the quadrant."

Seven looked blank, then shook her head. "Sometimes, your humor baffles me, Kathryn," she admitted. "You are not adept at cleaning up after yourself ... I find it highly unlikely you would care to do it for others."

Janeway snickered. "It was just a thought," she offered. "Haven't you ever wondered about what crazy and different thing you would try, just for the hell of it?"

"No," Seven said. She paused. "I shall make the attempt now."

Janeway smiled quietly to herself at the very earnest expression on her partner's face as Seven gave the matter all due consideration.

"I would like to fish," Seven decided finally. "Go to new and different locations on a variety of planets and attempt to catch whatever is the most challenging species for that particular area."

The captain stared at her, astounded, then reached over, patting Seven on the stomach. "I'll never accuse you of not knowing what fun is ever again," she said, pleased. "That sounds like a wonderful way to live."

"It would be different," Seven allowed amiably. "Of course, a certain amount of such a lifestyle would require camping, and I am aware how limited your appeal is for 'roughing it'."

Janeway shrugged. "It wouldn't be a problem," she remarked. "While you're out fishing in the cold and the damp, I could stay in whatever luxurious resort was the closest, enjoying the spa and local entertainment."

Seven smiled. "A suitable compromise," she allowed.

Janeway finished the final bite of her wrap and leaned back against the pillows, comfortably sipping the last of her soup. "It could be something to think about when the children have all grown and moved out on their own," she said. "When we've seen and done all we want to as Starfleet officers ... when it's time to retire."

"Yes," the Borg agreed, leaning back next to her. "I believe that we can look forward to an enjoyable life, Kathryn. Provided we take care in our choices now."

"Agreed, darling," Janeway said. She put her empty mug on the night stand, then shifted so that she was snuggled up against her partner, nestling her head on the Borg's slender shoulder. "Of course, I've already made the best choice of all."

"And that is?" Seven asked, though her tone was indulgent, undoubtedly suspecting where the captain was going with this.

"I married you," Janeway answered anyway, smiling. "Of course." 1400 Hours

Seven of Nine could feel her partner dozing off, the compact body growing heavier against her. It was not particularly surprising, considering that Janeway had just been fed and before that, gently but thoroughly ravished by the Borg. In truth, it was perfectly natural, the woman having had two of her three most basic desires met, now only needing a nap to complete the happy circle. Seven smiled faintly and pulled the woman closer with one arm as she used the other to draw a sheet up over them, settling back against the pillows.

Sometimes, at moments like this, Seven thought she would melt from the sheer tenderness she felt, the tumultuous love that swept through her in a rush. She looked down into her partner's face, smoothed out now in sleep, looking vulnerable and much younger than when Kathryn wore her command mask. Very carefully, the Borg drew her thumb down one cheek, stroking the soft skin, delighting in its texture and warmth. Kathryn was so beautiful, she decided, possessing such delicate features, yet strong as well, so appealing ... such perfection.

Gently, Seven rubbed her cheek against the captain's forehead, breathing deep the fragrance of hair and flesh, of soap and water from Janeway's earlier shower, of the more womanly musk that she simply could not wash away, for which the Borg was truly grateful. It had not been so very long ago that several crewmembers had lost access to certain of their senses, including Seven, who had been temporarily blinded. Now the young woman drank in the presence of her partner, not only with her eyes, but with every sense she possessed, enhanced as they were by Borg nanoprobes, basking in the sight, the smell, the touch, even the taste of the captain, reaching out to flick her tongue over the curve of her ear. That disturbed Janeway and she stirred, making a soft, incoherent sound of protest, before settling further into the Borg's arms, the depth of her respiration increasing, becoming even more regular.

How was it possible to feel this much? Seven wondered. To need someone so intensely that to be without her is like having a part of myself cut away?

She did not understand it, but perhaps, she decided, it was not necessary that she do so. It was just enough to experience it, and with a deep, abiding joy, she spent the next several minutes just holding her spouse, content to listen to the music of her breath and heart, warmed by the heat of her body as if it were a hearth on a cold night, all of it granting her a complete and utter peacefulness in her soul.

Finally, Janeway woke ... slowly, naturally, a slight quiver traveling throughout her form as she raised her head, inhaling deeply. Seven felt the warm rush of her exhalation brush over her throat and she closed her eyes from the sheer sensation of it.

"Sorry, love," Janeway murmured. "I didn't mean to fall asleep on you."

"I love holding you when you sleep," Seven told her honestly.

"How long?"

"Not long, an hour possibly," Seven replied. "Perhaps less." She nuzzled the soft, auburn hair. "I am enjoying this day," she added quietly. "A great deal."

Janeway made a small noise, half amusement, half ruefulness. "I'm glad, love," she muttered. "That was very much the point of the certificate ... so you could have a good day." She chuckled. "The fact that I'm having a wonderful time as well is purely incidental."

Seven smiled and held her closer.

"Kathryn, how many children shall we have?" she asked after a moment of golden silence.

"How many do you want?" Janeway asked, a little cautiously.

"Four," Seven said promptly. She was amused as her partner stiffened slightly. "But I think two are sufficient. It would be most efficient if we arranged for a multiple birth."

"For you, maybe," Janeway said dryly. "I'm the one who has to carry them around for nine months."

"It would mean only one occurrence of labor," Seven reminded her.

Janeway blinked. "There is that," she allowed. She paused, then added softly, "Annika, I would like us to have a son as well as a daughter."

Seven thought about that, remembering the happiness they had both experienced while babysitting Little Harry. There really was a difference between the genders, even at a young age, but the Borg discovered both were equally easy to love. "Yes," she agreed with certainty. "I would like that as well. To accomplish it, however, requires additional medical manipulation beyond merely the blending of our genetic material. We would require a third party, a male, to donate the necessary Y chromosome."

"I know," Janeway said. "Does that bother you?"

"Do you intend to acquire the material in the traditional manner?" Seven countered, humor coloring her tone.

Janeway needed a few seconds to work that out, but when she did, she poked the young woman in the ribs reprovingly. "Of course not," she said. "But I'm not sure I want it to be provided in a syringe by an impersonal genetic bank, either."

"Do you wish the father to be involved with our children, Kathryn?" Seven asked curiously. "Any of the suitable males we know personally, such as Chakotay or Harry Kim, are of the type who would wish to be a viable part of his child's life. That could become ... very complicated."

The captain sighed. "I know," she said. "Reproductive science and medical technology have come a long way, but there's always that Human factor to consider."

"Perhaps we should not limit ourselves to 'Humans'," Seven offered. "I'm sure Tuvok would approach this situation in a very logical manner, and trust us to raise a child completely on our own."

"A half Vulcan son?" Janeway said. "The cultural complications for the child could be immense, Annika. We would love him completely, of course, but his path would be more difficult than many." Seven felt her stroke the Borg's stomach lightly with her fingertips, lost in thought. "There are always the ancestral banks," she suggested finally, but her tone was uncertain, tentative.

Seven brightened. "Yes," she allowed. "It is traditional that all Federation citizens place genetic samples on file in the event of an emergency. Family members are permitted to partake of any material which remain after the death of the ancestor, unless specified otherwise in a legal document. I am sure my parents provided their material, as undoubtedly did yours. Theoretically, we could fertilize an Annika Hansen egg with sperm from a Janeway male, Edward's perhaps, or vice versa, fertilize a Kathryn Janeway egg with Magnus Hansen sperm."

"Oh god," Janeway groaned, putting a hand over her face as if she couldn't bear to think about it. "That would make our children our siblings, Annika. I know it's been done, and is even a fairly common method when dealing with couples who want the genetic material to stay completely 'in the family', but honestly, darling, at this point the Traditionalist in me is running around in circles, screaming hysterically in horror."

Seven, who was far more dispassionate about this sort of thing, didn't quite understand that particular image, but it was enough to know her partner was disturbed at the implication and decided it was not a viable alternative.

"Very well," she said. "However, if we are not prepared to utilize that option, nor do we wish to involve a male friend who could possibly wish to be involved in our child's life, nor do you want to draw on an impersonal genetic banks, that leaves us with limited options, Kathryn. What of the possibility of drawing on a distant, yet familiar source." She paused. "Shall we contact one of your previous lovers, Kathryn? I have none, of course."

"You're not funny," Janeway told her sternly.

Seven did not laugh, but she wanted to. She felt giddy, as if her insides were made of nothing more tangible than fairy dust and gossamer wings. Finally, she and Janeway were making concrete plans to extend their family unit, and the sensation was one she hoped never to forget.

"It is unfortunate neither of us has a brother," Janeway added.

Seven blinked. "Why is a brother acceptable for donation, while a father is not?" she asked blankly.

Janeway thought about it. "I don't know," she admitted finally, somewhat uncomfortably. "Possibly because a brother would possess the same combination of paternal and maternal genetic traits that either of us would."

"It is easier to perceive a brother as a male version of ourselves on some level, rather than as another family member," Seven translated.

"Something like that," Janeway noted. "Plus, it would be all right for a brother to play 'uncle' to the child, because that's exactly what he would be."

"This is becoming even more complicated," Seven noted with a sigh.

"Yes," Janeway said.

Seven grew thoughtful, and Janeway prodded her in the ribs. "What?" the captain added.

"We could search for an alternate reality, where either you or I were male," the Borg suggested in a reasonable tone. "That would provide exactly the genetic material we require. Provided either of our male counterparts was amenable, of course."

Janeway was speechless.

"Darling," she managed finally. "Sometimes your thought processes actually scare me."

Seven decided to take that as a compliment, regardless of how her partner intended it.

"Thank you," she said.

Janeway stared at her a moment longer, then shook her head. "Maybe we should just have two daughters, after all," she suggested. "Far less aggravation."

"We both wish for a son, however," Seven noted. She raised an eyebrow "It does occur to me that it might be selfish for us to be so scientifically determining who these beings should be genetically. Should we not be happy with whomever we are capable of conceiving?"

"On one level, that's perfectly true, darling," Janeway agreed. "However, not planning how we do this is selfish, as well. Having children changes one's whole life, and if we're not prepared to make that adjustment, it's inevitably the child who suffers. It makes sense to control what we can, because I can assure you, darling, a lot of this is going to be completely out of our hands. That's the other thing that happens when kids are involved. You know that just from interacting with Naomi and the Borg children."

"Yes," Seven said. She paused, saddened suddenly as the reality of what was about to happen made itself felt again. "I shall miss Naomi and Mezoti greatly when the Wildmans resume their lives on DS9. I will be able to see Icheb, of course, because he and Chakotay are remaining on Earth, but I will be out of touch with Azan and Rebi, who are intending to go with Tuvok to Vulcan. At least, Little Harry will be in San Francisco with his parents. If I choose a position with Starfleet Command, perhaps I shall be able to visit him occasionally."

Janeway hugged her tightly. "Sometimes that's just how life is, love," she said softly. "People move on and paths diverge, no matter how close they once traveled together." She kissed the Borg gently on the cheek. "I assure you, when we have our own children, we'll barely have time to wonder what's going on with the others we knew."

"That does not make me feel better, Kathryn," Seven said unhappily.

"No," Janeway allowed gently, reaching up to stroke the young woman's hair. "I don't suppose it does." Seven felt the captain's lips brush gently along the underside of her chin, and she raised her head, closing her eyes for the moment as she allowed the caress to comfort her.

"Kathryn, if we are unable to stay with Gretchen in Indiana," Seven said after a while, "could we live in San Francisco? I think I would like being near the ocean."

"Of course, darling," Janeway assured her. "Who knows, I might even be able to get my old house back. It has a yard that would be perfect for Jake." She paused. "I really should have asked what was done with it," she added fretfully. "Whether it was transferred back to the city, or if another family member took it over."

"Is this the dwelling on R. Garrett Avenue, overlooking the bay?" Seven asked.

Janeway blinked. "Yes ... how did you know?" she asked, surprised.

"Phoebe informed me of it in one of her letters," Seven explained. "Or rather, she mentioned that when she and Gretchen visit San Francisco, that is where they stay."

Janeway frowned. "I was unaware they were in the habit of visiting San Francisco," she said.

Seven regarded her partner evenly. "Perhaps they did not share this with you, so as not to make you feel uncomfortable," she offered, "but when Voyager was first lost, both Gretchen and Phoebe resided in San Francisco for over a year and a half. Phoebe implied to me that Gretchen utilized many contacts in Starfleet Command to keep the search going long after others had given up."

Janeway closed her eyes. "Of course, she would," she said, huskily. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"In any event, Gretchen still visits often, particularly in the past year, and has many friends there," Seven added. "Phoebe mentioned that she may even move there permanently."

The captain shook her head. "How is it that you know more about my family than I do?" she said.

"I do not know, Kathryn," Seven replied honestly. "Perhaps I ask more questions?"

"Or you're more honest about your interest in their lives," Janeway said, a touch of bitterness in her tone, directed not at Seven, the Borg realized, but at herself. "God, when did I lose touch with them, Annika? Why don't I know these things?"

"You are a starship captain," Seven pointed out evenly. "You have more to concern yourself with than anyone else on this vessel, and because of our circumstances, perhaps even more than any captain currently serving in Starfleet." She paused. "You will have opportunity to know them again, Kathryn. Is that not what we've decided? That remaining a year or so on Earth will be the best thing for us?"

"You're right, of course," Janeway said, patting the Borg on the stomach. "I guess I'm just now considering things that I haven't thought about in a long, long time."

"Too many things, perhaps."

1500 Hours

Ro Laren drew on her robe, raising an eyebrow as she regarded her lover sprawled over most of the bed. B'Elanna had a lazy smile on her face as she napped, the sort of smug expression of someone who was well satisfied with herself and her place in the universe. It was quite adorable, and the Bajoran smiled faintly to herself as she left the bedroom and went out into the living area. Taking a seat at her workstation, she pulled up the file of a recent letter she had received from Captain Jean-Luc Picard, putting the contents on her screen.

On first reading, it had seemed a fairly innocuous missive, nothing more than a simple request by a previous captain to meet with him before taking on any new assignment. It was flattering, sounding very much like an attempt to lure her back to the Enterprise, from a captain well-known for keeping as much of his crew intact as possible. Certainly he had always professed a respect for her skills that she didn't always feel she deserved, but a regard that she had always been grateful for, needing the little bit of reassurance that she was not a complete mess.

She wasn't sure what had alerted her, what minor aspect of the message gave her the hint that perhaps it was something more than what it appeared. Something had, however, and she had spent every spare moment trying to track the elusive clue down. As she did, she gradually realized that there was something else contained within the message itself, an encoded pattern that should not be there.

Layers upon layers, and it intrigued her greatly.

Of course, it was entirely possible she was just imagining the whole thing, but that didn't explain why the subtle pattern existed in the first place. By this time, she was beginning to suspect it was another message lying beneath the upper layer and it was taking all her encryption skills to chip away at it.

Frowning as another promising line of code abruptly skidded to a dead end, she leaned back in her chair, glaring at it. She was rapidly arriving at the point where she was tempted to ask Seven for assistance. Nobody knew encryption codes like the Borg, but unfortunately, a hail on the comm badge indicated that the young woman did not wish to be disturbed this day, and Ro didn't think this was worth breaking a level ten privacy seal. On the other hand, a man like Jean-Luc Picard did not send a secret message encrypted in another one just to entertain himself.

"Hey."

Ro started abruptly, realizing that she had been starting blankly at the viewscreen for so long that she had lost track of time. She glanced over her shoulder, smiling crookedly as her lover padded out into the living room, naked but for a pair of bright, fuzzy yellow slippers.

"Why did you put on footwear?" she asked dryly.

B'Elanna looked at her oddly. "My feet were cold," she said.

Ro laughed. "Ask a stupid question..."

"What are you working on?" B'Elanna asked, peering over the Bajoran's head curiously, resting her hands lightly on Ro's shoulders.

Ro resisted the urge to reach out and blank the screen, knowing that would be far more suspicious than if she just shrugged it off. Then, she wondered why she thought she needed to hide this from B'Elanna.

"It's the letter I received from Picard," she said with studied casualness.

"Is that an encryption code?

Damn, Ro thought, that's amazing. She had to remember that B'Elanna's brashness merely concealed a keen and brilliant mind, it did not mean she was oblivious to things.

"I'm not entirely sure," she admitted. "I think so, but every time I try to decode it, it's just gibberish. It's possible that it's nothing more than just some form of static or flaw in the file."

"You should have told me," B'Elanna said.

Ro felt her face flame. "I ... uh..." she began.

"I could have helped you with it," B'Elanna continued, and Ro suddenly realized that the Klingon was not making an accusation, merely delivering a comment on the message itself. "Look, this is the signature that threads the code, not there. The other is just a ... a 'red herring', a diversion from the real code."

Ro blinked. "How do you know so much about encryption?" she blurted, astonished.

"Are you kidding?" B'Elanna said, inserting herself between Ro and the desk, sitting down between the Bajoran's legs which the officer drew up to give the Klingon room. "What did you think Seven and I talked about all the time we were hanging out together? Sex?"

"Well, actually..." Ro began.

B'Elanna shook her head. "No, we used to try to come up with ways to send messages that the Borg couldn't detect. It wasn't easy," she added idly as she tapped  commands into the console. "The Borg are better at decoding encryption than any culture I've ever heard of. Of course, that makes sense considering they aren't one species, but thousands of them, all collected together in one big hive mind." She made a few final entries and leaned back against the Bajoran, her back smooth against Ro's body. "There, it should finish decryption in a few moments."

"Thank you," Ro managed, still stunned.

"Why would Jean-Luc Picard send you a coded message?" B'Elanna asked, glancing over her shoulder.

Ro exhaled slowly, wrapping her arms around her lover. "I don't know," she said, startled as the characters on the screen rippled suddenly, resolving themselves into recognizable information. "I'm hoping that once this is decoded, it will tell me."

"Hmm," B'Elanna offered, a short sound of puzzlement, rather than acknowledgment.

The Bajoran turned her head, pressing her cheek against the Klingon's temple and vowed never to underestimate her lover again ... nor maintain this rather foolish belief that she could keep secrets from her. Even without trying, B'Elanna had a way of uncovering whatever was going on.

Perhaps the wrong person was contemplating a future in Starfleet Intelligence.

"Here it comes," B'Elanna said. She hesitated, then turned fully to look Ro in the face. "Do you want me to see this?" she asked.

Ro felt her heart catch. "You deserve to," she said softly. "You're the one who decoded it, after all." She smiled slightly. "You know, we make a pretty good team."

B'Elanna returned the smile. "We do, don't we?" she agreed.

Together, they turned and looked at the screen now holding the real message intended for the security officer, and Ro heard B'Elanna's breath catch as she skimmed it quickly. Her own respiration was none too steady either by the time she was finished, either.

Attn:                    Ro Laren, USS Voyager
From:                 Captain Jean-Luc Picard, USS Enterprise
Recognition:     Ten Forward
Be advised; covert operations group classified Section 31 discovered within ranks of Starfleet Intelligence, operating outside general constitution of Federation charter of rights. Influence extends to highest ranks of Starfleet Command and Federation Council. Your mission is as follows: Remain in proximity to Captain Kathryn Janeway and Seven of Nine. Latest target of Section 31 reputed to be Seven of Nine, intended for capture, incarceration, interrogation and eventual vivisection due to connection with the Borg queen. Upon return to Federation, you will meet with me and turn down request to resume position on helm, both publicly, and with rancor. Insist that currently only Janeway deserves your loyalty. Meeting is to end with recriminations. Afterward, expect to be recruited by Section 31 for conduit to Borg subject. You are to infiltrate their ranks and uncover names, places, operational status, conveying this information to myself.

"Kahless," B'Elanna exhaled, a tiny whisper of disbelief.

"B'Elanna, can you delete this portion of code from the message?" Ro said, her face set hard, her voice one of glacial intensity. "I want it totally gone, no trace of it for anyone else to find."

Startled, B'Elanna looked at her, opened her mouth to say something, stopped as if reconsidering, then dipped her head once. She tapped in several commands, working silently for several minutes. Finally, all that was left was the original, pleasant message from a captain to an ex-crewmember. The two women sat in silence, staring blankly at the screen.

"What are you going to do?" B'Elanna asked finally, in a small voice.

"Accept the mission," Ro said softly. "How could I not? Not only does it come from Picard, it seems that Janeway and Seven have been targeted by Section 31."

B'Elanna's eyes were troubled. "Are you certain this is legit?" she asked, getting up from the chair and turning around to lean against the desk so that she could face Ro.

"It had Picard's recognition code," Ro said.

"Ten forward?" B'Elanna said, obviously remembering the contents of the missive in detail. "What does that mean?"

"It's the deck on the Enterprise," Ro explained. "The ship's lounge."

"That's a code?"

"To me," Ro said grimly. "It's not what's in Ten-forward." She paused, and her voice lowered. "It's who." At B'Elanna's blank look, she shook her head. "I'll explain someday," she said quietly. "Are you sure the encrypted message is gone?"

"As if it never existed," B'Elanna promised. She stared at the Bajoran. "Laren, what's going on here? What's Section 31?"

Ro frowned. "There have always been unsubstantiated rumors, whispers in the dark," she said softly. "Particularly for those of us in security. Stories of a conspiracy reaching to the upper levels of Starfleet Command itself, of a group that operated outside the Federation charter, similar to the Romulan's Tal Shiar or the Cardassian Obsidian Order, responsible for the fall of governments and disappearances of key people at key times, including arranged assassinations and interference with other species in direct defiance of the Prime Directive." She swallowed. "I'm not sure that I ever really believed them, but apparently, they do exist ... and Picard's going after them."

"It sounds like he's using Janeway and Seven to do it," B'Elanna said shortly, her dark eyes beginning to sparkle dangerously. Ro noticed idly, with a sort of dry amusement, that the Klingon did not question the story of an illicit organization operating outside Federation law and ideals. Obviously, the ex-Maquis had seen too much to dismiss the existence of such a group, even if she hadn't heard of them before.

Ro shook her head. "No," she said. "Obviously, Seven's already been targeted."

"But you're not being assigned to protect her," B'Elanna said. "It sounds like you're supposed to help them get their hands on her. What the hell was that word? Vivisection?"

"It won't come to that," Ro said.

"Are you sure?" B'Elanna's jaw was set hard.

"I won't let it come to that," Ro promised, looking the Klingon directly in the eyes.

"How are you going to stop it?" B'Elanna said flatly.

"By doing exactly what Picard requests," Ro said. "Be in the right place at the right time when it all comes down."

"We need to tell the captain," the Klingon said.

"No!" Ro's voice was sharp. "You are to forget that you ever saw this. Is that clear?" She stared demandingly at her lover, then took a deep breath. "B'Elanna, how good is Seven at hiding the truth? For that matter, how good is the captain? Has there been anything that's ever happened on this ship that you didn't find out about within a day at the latest. Prophets, remember the Omega Directive? By the time it was done, everyone on the ship knew about it, when the only person who was supposed to was the captain."

B'Elanna tried to hold her gaze but was unable to, looking away unhappily.

"Lanna, if what I've heard about this group is correct, they make you look like a babe in the woods when it comes to digging out information they shouldn't have. If they suspect that Janeway or Seven know about their interest in acquiring the Queen's own drone, full of key information about  the Collective that the average drone doesn't have, they won't change their intention, just how they go about doing it. Somehow, Picard has found out what's going on, and acquired a jump on them. If they change tactics, we won't even have that, nor will I have a chance to get inside and disrupt them. I won't have the opportunity to be in a position to try to protect Seven or Janeway."

"Are you sure that protecting Seven is on Picard's agenda?" B'Elanna insisted. "He has his own reasons for hating the Borg."

"Yes, he does," Ro agreed. "But I know he's a good and honorable man, and I'll tell you what he hates even more than the Borg: something like Section 31, an organization that lurks in the shadows and uses innocents to do their dirty work; a group of fanatics that hide their intent behind Starfleet and use their power for selfish and malevolent ends. If they've surfaced enough to attract his attention, then they've been getting powerful, but they've also made a bad enemy if they've crossed him in some way. He'll reach down, drag them up into the light where everyone can see them, and he won't care who he has to challenge to do it. A group like Section 31 can't survive in the light, and it's probably the war which ended up granting them the freedom to interfere with a captain like Picard."

B'Elanna lifted her head, staring briefly at the ceiling.

"You're guessing about a lot of this stuff," B'Elanna said.

"Some," Ro admitted. "But what I'm not guessing about is Picard. If he needs me to do this, then I'll do it."

"You're just trying to make up for what happened eight years ago with him," B'Elanna accused.

Ro reacted sharply, damped it down almost immediately. "Maybe," she said finally, in a mild tone reminiscent of Janeway's. "But it's what I have to do." She lowered her tone further. "B'Elanna, you know that this is the sort of life that I want. For you to be a part of it, I need to be able to trust you implicitly, without question. Can I?"

B'Elanna's throat moved in the bright illumination of day watch, her eyes dark and disturbed as she stared out the near viewport. Finally she shifted them, meeting Ro's steady gaze, studying the Bajoran's face.

"Yes," she said softly, obviously knowing exactly what Ro was asking of her. "You can trust me."

Ro bent her head in acknowledgment of how hard this was for her partner. "Thank you," she said.

"But I don't always have to like it," B'Elanna added.

"No," Ro said. "I'm not asking that you like it."

The two women looked at each other bleakly, but there was no getting around it. Their return to the Alpha Quadrant would have implications that no one else on the ship would ... or could ... know. 1600 Hours

Janeway stood in the doorway of the ensuite and admired the lean, lanky form of her partner, observing her with a deep, almost reverent appreciation. Seven was stretched out on the bed, face down, her head cradled on her folded arms, while spread over the pillows like strands of pure, silken gold, her hair seemed to form a halo about her. The luster of her skin was almost luminous, and it was uniquely heartbreaking when the captain's eyes fell upon the harsh and jarring reminders of the woman's time with the Borg: the two, starburst-shaped implants imbedded in the small of her back, one on each side of the base of her spine, while silvery mesh traced a pattern down one leg, starting just above the knee and encircling the calf to her ankle.

Seven's face was turned toward the captain, but her eyes were closed as the young woman took a moment to rest, perhaps reflecting on all they had been discussing this day.

Quietly, Janeway moved over to the side of the bed, and leaned down to kiss the flat plane of the Borg's near shoulder blade, nuzzling the soft skin over the hard bone before nibbling a delicate trail down Seven's spine, lips brushing over every mild bump and ridge. Seven made a quiet sound of pleasure, almost a purr of contentment, and Janeway paused as she reached the crease which ran between the two swells, glancing back up the length of her partner in an attempt to see her expression.

Seven's eyes were still closed, but there was a small smile on her face, almost as if she were dreaming of what lay ahead, and finding it pleasant indeed. Or perhaps she was merely concentrating on the tender caresses of her partner, anticipating what was to come in her more immediate future. Janeway felt the corner of her mouth curl, and she crawled onto the bed where she lowered herself onto the young woman, pressing her breasts and stomach against the smooth back, feeling the buttocks push softly into her groin, burying her face in the mass of soft, blonde hair as she wrapped her arms around the young woman's torso.

"Mmm, Kathryn?"

"Yes, darling," the captain murmured, depositing kisses on the soft nap of Seven's neck.

"Did you want something?"

"You," Janeway told her. "All the time."

Seven made a small sound of amusement. "You have me," she promised. "Whenever you wish."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Janeway responded huskily, nibbling her ear. "There have been times, on the bridge or in the conference room, when I've wanted you so badly, my teeth ached, only I couldn't acknowledge it."

"Ah, but that was not my doing," Seven pointed out, her eyes still closed. "That was because you do not want to appear as 'Human' in front of your crew."

Janeway smiled. "I'm already Human to them, Annika," she said dryly. "Maybe more than a starship captain should be. What I don't want, is to look like a dirty old woman in front of them."

Seven raised an eyebrow. "You are not old," she pointed out.

"Or dirty?"

"If the context with which you mean 'dirty' is what I believe, then your initial assessment was correct," Seven responded evenly. "You are lascivious."

Janeway laughed. "Who wouldn't be with you as a wife?" she responded playfully, reaching down with her right hand to pinch Seven's buttock lightly.

"In fact," Seven continued, squirming a bit as she opened her eyes, and turned her head to glance back at her spouse. "You are what B'Elanna commonly refers to as a 'hound'."

"Seven!" Janeway protested, nipping at her shoulder. "I'm not a hound. A hound is someone who is indiscriminate. I am very discriminating in my tastes. There's only one person in the universe who makes me want to bay at the moon."

"Me?"

Janeway nuzzled her ear. "You," she said firmly, and tightened the grasp she had on Seven's behind, squeezing the handful of soft flesh provocatively.

The Borg wiggled beneath her. "Kathryn," she muttered, but it was a weak protest at best.

"Why don't you roll over?" the captain suggested.

"Because you're on top of me?" Seven offered logically.

Janeway ran her fingers over the curve of flesh, allowing them to drop into the hollow between Seven's legs, fingertips barely brushing the heat that waited there. "Or perhaps you should stay right where you are," she noted in a husky trill.

She heard Seven swallow audibly. "Perhaps I should," the Borg agreed.

Janeway smiled and traced a languid path back down Seven's spine, dragging her nipples lingeringly along the Borg's back as she mouthed the skin and muscle lavishly. When she reached the soft cushion of Seven's buttocks, she put both hands on them, stroking slowly, kneading them in the way she knew the Borg liked. Seven whimpered slightly and raised herself up, drawing her knees under her. The captain took a moment to assist her, finding a pillow to tuck beneath the Borg's stomach, giving her some support.

She knelt between Seven's ankles, continuing her caresses of the rounded curves, drawing her fingertips lovingly along the depressions at the side. She didn't understand exactly why Seven so enjoyed having this part of her body attended to, but then again, she really didn't need to. Every individual was different, particularly when it came to lovemaking, and a caress that could leave one person unmoved or even repelled, could send another to the heights of ecstasy. It was enough to know that Seven enjoyed having her buttocks attended to like this, was greatly aroused when certain intimate areas were targeted specifically, and because of that, Janeway derived a great deal of pleasure in accommodating her. She was also keenly aware of how vulnerable this positioning made the young woman, and Janeway was deeply touched by the absolute trust her partner placed in her without hesitation.

She placed her hands on Seven's inner thighs, fingertips tingling at the sensation of the warm, smooth skin, and spread the Borg's legs further, leaving her open and exposed to her. A wisp of fragrance came to her, the first hint of Seven's deepening readiness, a primal perfume that tickled the captain's nostrils, and sent a corresponding surge of desire through her own body.

"Kathryn," Seven moaned softly, her arms wrapped around the pillow beneath her head, as if hanging onto it in an effort to control herself.

"I'm right here, darling," Janeway assured her softly, drawing her fingers up to touch Seven's intimate juncture, making the Borg shiver abruptly. As she fondled her lightly, swirling her fingers around the little nubbin which grew firm beneath her touch, the captain leaned over and retrieved certain items from the 'toybox' next to the bed. When she straightened and looked down, she could see the gleam of moisture appearing in the provocative shadows of her love, could smell another hint of anticipatory musk from her spouse, and felt the wetness bathe her fingertips with an inticing heat.

It invited her to more intimate exploration, and moving very slowly, she found Seven's opening and tenderly eased her index finger into the oozing channel. The captain closed her eyes at the sensation, taking a long, shuddering breath as the clinging walls surrounded the digit. As a result of her second assimilation by the Borg, Seven was exceptionally 'tight', and required a great deal of care and preparation for penetration. Learning how to do it well had greatly enhanced the experience of lovemaking for both women, and whenever Janeway provided this form of caress, it was a profoundly moving experience for her. No one else had ever done this for the young woman, no one else had been granted this privilege, and for Janeway, it sent a surge of emotion and desire raging through her, making it difficult to breathe.

"Oh, Kathryn," Seven exhaled, a quiet whisper of demand as she pushed back against her partner's tender probe of her innermost regions, accepting the entry with delight.

Janeway breathed slowly and deliberately, bringing her passion under control. Unlike her first attempt at introducing Seven to something new earlier in the day, the captain wanted this encounter to be completely positive, regardless of how much time it took. She brought her other hand up between Seven's legs, rubbing the little ridge tenderly as she flexed within the Borg, feeling the confines of her partner's inner passage slowly loosen around her finger as more moisture eased her motion. Eventually, she was able to slide within the wonderfully wet channel, twisting to ready Seven even more until the captain could finally add her middle finger. It was able to reach deeper into her partner, the tip of it brushing against a blockage inside which made the Borg lurch and cry out in joy.

Seven's breath was coming in muffled sobs now, and Janeway removed her other hand from the Borg's swollen ridge, not wanting either of them to get ahead of themselves. Hearing the small sigh of protest from her partner, she smiled faintly, and patted Seven's buttock fondly.

"I'm not going anywhere, love," she promised. "No teasing, just slowing things down a bit."

"Yes, Kathryn," Seven whispered, swallowing hard, her trust in her partner absolute.

The captain bent down and deposited a kiss on her partner's right buttock as, with her free hand, she opened the jar resting next to her knee. The sexual lubricant was silky as she scooped up a generous amount and slathered it over the Ben-wa balls she had acquired earlier. She withdrew her fingers from Seven and immediately positioned the first ball against the young woman's entrance, holding onto Seven's hip to keep her in place. She paused, then insistently, yet gently, inserted the weighted ball into Seven, then the second, the two silvery spheres filled with a quicksilver fluid that made them roll provocatively within the Borg. A soft, fine chain of tiny links remained outside, and the captain tugged on it lightly, setting the balls into further motion. Seven immediately arched her back and moaned, pressing back against her partner.

"Oh, Kathryn," she said, moving her face blindly into her pillow, "that feels ... it is amazing..."

"My darling," Janeway told her, "I want it to feel even better for you." She paused to cover her finger with more lubrication, then inserted the tip into Seven's rear channel, pausing briefly as she tried to catch her breath. "Annika, I need you to tell me if I'm going too fast or too far with this," she instructed softly. "Just say the word and I'll stop immediately."

Seven moaned softy. "Yes, Kathryn," she whispered. "I promise..."

Janeway inhaled deeply, trying to control her own passion. Just as Seven was being stimulated by this, the older woman was almost overwhelmed by the thought of the pleasure she was providing to her lover. She very carefully wiggled her finger into Seven's rear channel and discovered that the movement of the balls in the adjacent passage were easily detected through the thin membrane separating the young woman's most intimate recesses. She shivered in delicious empathy as her fingertip forced the balls to roll back and forth within Seven, inciting them to collide with each other, as well as with the interior blockage where Seven's g-spot was located. The Borg cried out, her hips moving of their own accord, undulating beneath the captain's tender caresses.

Using great care, Janeway pushed her finger into Seven a little deeper, the pleasure rushing over the young woman in steady waves, evident in the way the Borg trembled and moaned. Finally, the captain's finger was inserted as deeply as it could go, as were the balls, and both channels abruptly spasmed as the Borg was unable to resist this tender assault on her senses. Janeway waited a few seconds for the young woman's climax to subside, then slowly began to move her finger in and out of the Borg's rear channel. This area of Seven's anatomy was more flexible than her lower passage, more responsive, and before long, Janeway was able to work a second finger into the sultry passage, pushing both in as far as she could. This was another new experience ... never had she attempted more than one digit at a time ... and Seven moaned, clutching her pillow.

Janeway took a deep shuddering breath, then left her fingers in place, feeling the balls ripple along the underside of them, moving as if they were alive. Swallowing hard, she slipped her other hand around to Seven's mound, hesitating at the apex of the crease, her fingers barely brushing over the firm nub she found there.

"Darling?" she whispered.

"Oh, Kathryn," Seven gulped, her breath a sob. "Please..."

The plea sent an irresistible surge of desire through the captain, and tenderly, she began to massage the tiny protrusion, swirling her fingertips over it as she flexed her other hand in perfect rhythm, creating a cataclysmic motion with the quicksilver balls which impacted steadily on the young woman's g-spot. Seven actually screamed as multiple orgasms ripped through her, and it was all the captain could do not to lose her balance and topple off the bed as the Borg spasmed uncontrollably. The young woman's steady flutters around Janeway's fingers abruptly ... and most astonishingly ... triggered the captain's own pleasure, the older woman feeling a mild orgasm shiver through her in empathy with her partner, her pelvic area clenching as Seven collapsed on the bed, unable to respond any further beyond minor shudders.

Somewhat stunned ... not to mention, very impressed ... Janeway decided that this particular toy, which she had recieved for her birthday from Seven,  had more advantages that she had initially anticipated. Her next task, however, was figuring out how to remove them from the young woman's body ... which seemed somewhat reluctant to give them up. 1700 Hours

Seven of Nine lay quiescent in the aftermath of Janeway's incredible and unexpected method of lovemaking, striving to regain the scattered pieces of herself. Penetration was usually more the captain's preference, while Seven appreciated a more exoteric form of intimacy, but this had been so different that she was still recovering. Even now, long after Janeway had withdrawn both fingers and balls, and was now spooned around the Borg, holding her tightly in a warm embrace, Seven still felt the ripples of mild orgasms shiver through her, the last aftershocks of a tumultuous and shattering experience.

"Are you all right, love?" the captain whispered, obviously a bit concerned at Seven's continuing silence.

"Yes," Seven responded quietly. She paused. "I believe that is the first time that I have ever forgot where I was ... or who I was with."

Janeway seemed to exhale, almost in relief. "I see," she said softly. She pressed her palm against Seven's stomach, fingers spread wide, pulling the Borg closer to her. "But, did you enjoy it?"

Seven exhaled slowly, thinking about it. "I believe it was similar to your experience with the Wonder Wand, when I was introducing you to its varied features," she said. "Or when I first showed you how my fingertips could vibrate, and did not stop until you were almost insensate."

"Too much?" Janeway guessed.

"Yes," Seven said. "It became very much about the encounter itself, and not about who was loving me." She hesitated, trying to find words to convey what she was feeling. "I could not speak, unable to make it stop ... or to demand it continue, which is also what I wanted. I could only concentrate on my body, on the intense sensations I was experiencing."

"You're not in a hurry to have me to do it again," the captain translated.

Seven hesitated, then shook her head. "No," she admitted. "It is acceptable on occasion, but I am not interested in being pleasured to the point where I no longer care who is doing it to me, Kathryn ... I wish only to be intimate with you. An experience like this makes me feel ... distanced from you..." She paused, frustrated by her limited vocabulary. "I am not explaining this well."

"You're explaining it just fine, my darling," Janeway assured her, hugging her tightly. "I didn't want it to be about sex rather than love, I merely wanted to introduce you to something new and different. Perhaps I became so intent on creating an experience, I lost track of the emotion."

"I know you love me, Kathryn," Seven told her seriously. "That was never in doubt."

Janeway kissed her temple. "I guess I just wanted the day you used your certificate to be a memorable one for you."

"It is very memorable," Seven protested mildly, a hint of dry humor touching her tone. She stirred, shifting, and Janeway loosened her grip to allow the Borg to roll over. "I shall never forget this day, and it is not because of our lovemaking."

Janeway nuzzled her. "Neither will I, darling," she said, her lips tender on Seven's skin. "Taking the time to be together was the perfect way to celebrate the conclusion of our journey."

The Borg snuggled into the captain's embrace, sliding her arms around her, and the couple spent some time cuddling in the warm nest of bedding. Seven considered her partner's words, realizing that this was a celebration of sorts, but that it was also an ending, one that stung her with the knowledge of what they were leaving behind.

"Kathryn, this is our final day in the Delta Quadrant," she said finally.

"Hopefully," Janeway agreed.

"It doesn't bother you?" Seven sighed wistfully. "Soon, you and I will be living elsewhere, moving on with our lives, leaving Voyager behind, and I know that is a natural and positive progression for us..."

"But?" Janeway prodded gently.

"This is my home," Seven whispered. "This is the first place I have felt loved since I was a child ... since before I was assimilated."

Janeway pulled her closer, kissing her sweetly. "I'm sorry, darling," she said softly. "I guess I haven't been looking at it that way, or how leaving Voyager would affect you. As a Starfleet officer, I'm used to constantly moving around, and living on a variety of ships and stations." She paused, rubbing her cheek soothingly against Seven's forehead. "Now that you mention it, however, I guess I will miss these quarters. This was our home and it's not going to be easy to say good-bye to it."

"It hurts, Kathryn," the young woman said. "In a way that I do not quite comprehend."

"I know," the captain said comfortingly. "But the hurt will ease, Annika. This ship will always hold a special place in our hearts. After all, it's where we learned to love each other ... it's perfectly understandable that we're going to miss it. However, it doesn't mean that we won't be able to make homes in other places, just as precious and special as these quarters have been to us." She bent her head so that she could catch Seven's gaze. "You are home to me, darling. Where you are is where I belong. The actual surroundings are quite irrelevant."

Seven smiled and closed the distance between them, kissing Janeway tenderly. The captain's lips were soft, a balm on her soul, and she tried to let go of the pain in her heart at having to leave these quarters and this ship, perhaps never to return. She simply had to trust that her partner's words were true, that wherever they finally found themselves, they would be together and Kathryn would always love her.

"Darling, if things do become uncomfortable for you emotionally when we first return to the Alpha Quadrant," Janeway continued. "I want you to drag me aside from whatever I'm doing and let me know, no matter what. Consider that an order, from both your captain and the woman who adores you more than life itself."

"Yes, Kathryn," Seven promised. "I will not try to handle any emotional turmoil on my own."

"Don't be afraid of sharing your fears with other people, either," Janeway insisted. "Kes would be of particular help during such a time."

Seven did not respond immediately, less than thrilled with the reference to the Ocampa, particularly since her recent return seemed to come at the expense of her friend, Sek. Janeway had welcomed her 'lost sheep' back with open arms and didn't quite understand Seven's reluctance to offer the female the same friendship that she had offered the hologram, since the captain considered what had happened to be nothing more than a melding of the two individuals. Seven was rather hoping that with the pending trip to the Alpha Quadrant, she wouldn't have to deal with the Ocampa at all.

"I will speak to others if I require it," she responded guardedly. "I'm sure Phoebe and Gretchen will be of particular assistance, just as they were when I was transported to DS9 two years ago."

If Janeway noticed the Borg's deliberate attempt to divert the topic from the ship's counselor, she didn't mention it or pursue her wish for Seven to be more friendly to Kes. Instead, she pulled the young woman closer and kissed her.

"I do love you, darling," she said softly. "With all my heart. Regardless of what else may have happened on this unique and amazing voyage in this quadrant, finding you is the one thing that made it all worthwhile."

Seven quirked an eyebrow. "I'm sure the rest of the crew, who were also lost, would be glad to know that," she said dryly.

"Now, you're just being sarcastic," Janeway told her, poking her lightly in the ribs. "I have no idea how you developed such a cynical nature."

"It would not have come from you?" Seven asked innocently.

"Of course not," Janeway remarked indignantly. "I'm the sweetest, most mild-mannered person imaginable."

"Ah," Seven said. "It must have been behavior learned from B'Elanna."

"Certainly," Janeway agreed readily. "B'Elanna's always been a bad influence on you."

Seven smiled at her. "She will be working on Mars," she said. "If I am able to arrange a position with Dr. Brahms, I would have the opportunity to continue working with her on some projects."

"Then you should push for that," Janeway told her, seriously, all trace of playfulness gone for the moment. "I want you to be happy, Annika. Make that your priority. Not what will make me happy, but what will be best for you."

"I understand," Seven said. She paused. "You must do the same, and when we have both come to a decision, then we will discuss what it is required to fulfill both."

"Agreed," Janeway said. She studied her partner's face, then smiled. "Have I mentioned lately how glad I am to be married to you?"

"Not this afternoon," Seven noted accurately.

"Ah, then consider yourself informed," Janeway responded.

"I will," the Borg said, and kissed her, slowly. It was so pleasant to spend this lazy day in bed, making love, talking, sharing their thoughts and feelings ... she made a vow to do more of this in the future. Just as Kathryn had given her permission to pull her away from her duties if she felt distressed in the future, she made a note to keep an eye on the captain. If she decided that Janeway was becoming too stressed, she would insist on another day like this, regardless of where it had to take place.

"Mmm, darling?"

"Yes, Kathryn?"

"We should take a bath," the captain suggested. "Long and hot and steamy..."

Seven smiled. "That is acceptable," she agreed. "Now?"

"Why not?" Janeway said. "Afterward, we can make dinner. Then, maybe put on some music ... dance a little? I know you wanted to spend the whole day in bed, but there are other ways to be together and talk without needing to be between the sheets."

Seven's smile grew wider. "Agreed," she said. "It will be the perfect way to wrap up a wonderful day." She paused. "However, you must promise not to contact the rest of the ship when we are up."

Janeway started to speak, hesitated, then blushed faintly. "Of course not," she said, with just the slightest hint of defensiveness, and Seven knew that she had nailed the captain, good and proper. Sometimes her partner was far more transparent than she realized. "I wouldn't dream of it."

"Of course not," Seven repeated evenly.

Janeway eyed her for a moment, then blushed again and rolled from the bed. "I'll start the bath," she said, obviously as a bit of a peace offering.

"I shall get the wine and the glasses," Seven agreed.

The Borg went out into the outer room and behind the kitchenette counter, finding an unopened bottle of Voyager Vinery, as Janeway had christened it, a distillation of a certain type of alien fruit that a group of crewmembers in biometrics produced from an illicit still down in their lab on deck eight. The science officers were blissfully unaware that one of their more regular customers was the captain herself, because Janeway managed to have Neelix arrange any transaction regarding the exchange of replicator rations for the wine. As Seven drew the blue bottle from the couple's wine cooling unit, her eye was caught by another laying neatly by itself at the rear of the unit. It was a bottle of Chateau Picard champagne, hoarded by the captain for seven years. No matter how little wine the couple had possessed at any one time in their journey, this bottle had never been touched, intended for one purpose and one purpose only.

When Voyager settled into orbit around Earth, Janeway would gather her remaining senior staff in the conference room and lift a toast to a successful return home, as well as to those who had not made it back with her. Seven suspected it would be a most bittersweet event for her spouse, as well as the rest of the command crew.

She finished gathering up the glasses and returned to the ensuite where the tub was full, the water silky from an array of oils and salts the captain had added. The room was lit with a profusion of candles, their flickering gleam casting soft shadows about the tiles, and Seven smiled when she saw that Janeway had already made herself comfortable in the bath. The Borg uncorked the bottle, poured the blue wine into the tall, crystal glasses, and handed one to Janeway, who accepted it with a nod of appreciation. Then, after setting the bottle down in the built-in ice bucket, and holding her own glass somewhat awkwardly, Seven stepped gingerly into the tub, easing down into the warm water which swirled from the action of a multitude of jets.

She glanced at her partner, noting how the shimmering illumination brought out the reds in the captain's hair, how the heat from the water colored the woman's soft skin with the most appealing shade of rose. The captain raised her glass, and obligingly, Seven raised her own, reaching over to clink it gently against the captain's.

"To us," Janeway said huskily, her eyes a deep, bluish-grey, seeming to twinkle in the reflected candlelight. "To all we've been through, to all we've seen, to all we've shared. To what lies ahead."

Seven held her glass against the captain's, regarding her steadily. "To you, my beloved Kathryn," she added intently. "To the woman who would dare the Borg Collective not once, but many times in order to find and keep me. To the woman who conquered all odds and an unfamiliar quadrant to bring her crew home. To Kathryn Janeway, captain of Voyager ... and captain of my soul."

Janeway flushed prettily. "You have become so good at this," she noted huskily.

Seven smiled and sipped her wine, the sweet, yet delicate flavor resting lightly on her tongue before allowing it to slip easily down her throat. She had learned so much since severing her connection to the Collective and finding her life entwined with this remarkable dynamo of a woman. Not just the profound things such as love, duty, honor, faith and hope, but simple pleasures, like how wonderful water could feel on her skin, and the taste of wine which radiated glowing warmth from the pit of her stomach. There had been less benevolent lessons as well, like pain and tears, fear and betrayal, of struggles to find her way, and failures that reminded Seven constantly that, despite her Borgness, she was very Human, as well.

Yet all of it had been irrevocably linked to this one person sitting across from her, this beautiful woman who displayed such grace and class, yet was perfectly capable of being as base and as direct in her desires as any; determination and intelligence present in equal measure, with stubbornness and a most astonishing temper, sprinkled liberally with humor and a golden wit to warm the soul.

Who else could have taught her so much in such short a time, Seven wondered? Who else could have given her heart so freely, yet helped the young Borg understand what a rare and precious gift was being offered? Who else could have captured Seven's own heart, and kept it safe and warm with such tenderness ... possessing it with a true and honest decency? Who else could have guided the Borg through all the pitfalls of adjusting to a life without the rigid structure of the hive mind, yet showing her another wonderful way to live, her support unquestionable, yet strong enough to let Seven fall on occasion when she needed to?

"What?" Janeway asked in a quiet tone, her head tilted quizzically. "You're looking at me so oddly."

Seven's face softened. "I am just marveling at your existence," she told her honestly. "Without you, I would not be me."

The captain's face abruptly became vulnerable, soft and open, hiding nothing from her partner.

"The same is true on the other side, Annika," she said huskily. "I cannot imagine what my life would be without you, and to be honest, I don't want to. There are some things I hope never to discover. From the time we first met, we belonged together in a way that no one could describe or explain."

Seven reached over and took the other woman's hand, entwining her fingers in the long, elegant digits of the captain.

"I love you, my Kathryn," she whispered. "Then, now, always."

Janeway squeezed her hand, careful with the Borg mesh lacing Seven's fingers.

"Forever," she promised. "No matter what."

2342 Hours

She moved through the ship like a wraith, quiet, unassuming. Those that noticed, the more discerning of them, nodded politely, greeting her on her inspection of the ship and its crew, still somewhat surprised to find her out this late, but having grown used to her nocturnal excursions over the past little while. The bridge was quiet, soft beeps and the soft hum of the systems operating at standby, waiting for the alpha shift hours hence and the tasks they would be expected to perform. The beta shift, commanded by Tuvok, looked up at her arrival, but otherwise ignored her. They had little less than half an hour before duty transition to gamma, and with the ship at station-keeping in orbit around a class J planet, there was little they had to do beyond think on what would happen the next day.

Tuvok was the only one who held her glance, puzzled, but too polite to ask her business here at this time of night. She dipped her head, a sort of apology for disturbing him, then retreated to the turbolift. His dark eyes followed her, and she knew he held his own questions and concerns about what lay ahead, but he would never voice them. That was for those who were afraid, who allowed emotion to rule them. His emotions were kept tightly under control, restrained, confined ... channeled into logic and rationality ... but for all that, she knew it was there, and it warmed her because of the inherent kindness that drove it, despite what many others might think.

Deck two was a little more active, crewmembers with duties demanding their attention, routine responsibilities that did not change on even this day of rest and relaxation. The messhall was actually busy, the gamma shift grabbing a bite before the beta shift would arrive later for a late dinner. Neelix, behind the counter, flashed her a smile, but didn't come over to greet her, too busy to stop and chat. His day would not end until approximately 0200 ... long after most people had gone to bed. She wondered if the crew was aware of just how much the Delta Quadrant native did in the course of his day, most of it being nothing more than tasks designed solely to provide for them and their comfort. Underrated, frequently dismissed, it was possible the Talaxian did more to keep the ship running than he would ever receive credit for.

She offered him a parting smile and left, strolling calmly, but briskly to the turbolift which deposited her on deck three. This was completely quiet, and she drifted noiselessly past the door where the first officer resided, nothing but a deep brooding emanating from within, even while Chakotay slept. His were secret dreams, his future cloaked to her perception, guided by forces she knew little of ... unfamiliar and thus, possibly dangerous to her. She paused outside the door to the captain's quarters, resting her hand against the panel, the material cool against her palm and the spread fingers. From within came the unmistakable sense of utter contentment, a deep and abiding love, quiescent now as the two women curled up like children in their bed, fast asleep in the comfort of each other's arms, completely unaware of the storm clouds gathering on their horizon.

Deck four provided more traffic, crewmembers on their way to take up their duty shifts, others late from returning from time spent in the holodecks or the gym. She hesitated by the door leading to Tom Paris's quarters, sensing that he was awake and careful not to give any sign she was there. His thoughts were chaotic, worried about his future, yet excited as well, impatient to get on with it. He would sleep little this night. Further down the corridor, the normally bright and quick minds of the Klingon and the Bajoran were blurred hotly, intent on desire and physical satisfaction, submerged in the pleasure they were sharing.

She decided it a good thing both women were in the prime of their lives and at the peak of their physicality; otherwise, they'd never be able to keep up with the compulsions their powerful attraction demanded of each other. The intensity of their coupling was tremendous, sexual energy being the most primal and dynamic force, and despite herself, she allowed herself to feed from it for a few split seconds, feeling it renew and refresh her, granting her a sort of increased jump in her step, a certain lift to her shoulders.

She murmured greetings to a few people she knew, then made her way to deck five. Sickbay was quiet, but the Emergency Medical Hologram was still activated, pacing about the medical center with agitation. He did not know what lay ahead for him, and it was clear that it concerned him. She made a mental note to spend some time with him in the morning. When the others were busy with the slipstream drive and the journey they were about to undertake, there would be plenty of time for her to speak with him, to soothe his fears and attempt to channel him into a course of action that would keep him intact and sentient. She really was quite fond of him, and there was no question that he was a viable lifeform. Proving it to the closed minds of Starfleet Medical could prove slightly difficult however.

Harry Kim lay asleep in his quarters on deck six, his wife next to him, his son ... somehow convincing his parents that he really needed them ... tucked up happily between them. A habit they would have cause to regret in the future, she knew, but also aware of how difficult it would be to turn away such a charming appeal to their parental responsibilities. The little family had been one of the first formed on Voyager, and the beings that would result from this union would resonate within the ranks of Starfleet throughout history. But at the moment, the couple and their child were oblivious to any great destiny. It was enough for them to get some sleep on the eve of what everyone hoped would eventually be known as the Return.

Provided it took place as planned, of course.

That they would make it back to the Federation, was unquestionable. That it would occur within the next twenty-four hours was cloudy and uncertain. Certain threats loomed in the near future and it was possible that now was not the time to accomplish it. However, the possibilities were not clear enough for her to try to prevent the attempt, either by sabotaging the slipstream drive, or by convincing the captain that it would be better to wait. It was ironic, considering that so much of her existence was merely waiting. While it grew tedious  at times, she knew it was necessary.

A quick stroll through the park on deck seven granted her a sense of peace, the scent of growing things fresh in her nostrils, renewing her spirit. A quick check on the Borg children showed them tucked in neatly for the night, each one regenerating quietly in the individual alcoves. She wondered how long Voyager would need to remain on DS9 for Mezoti's unit to be dismantled and sent along with the Wildmans who would be disembarking there.

Nor would they be the only ones. Voyager might return to Earth, but not everyone would be on board. However, there would come a time when her decks would see the tread of their feet again.

Kes returned to her quarters on deck eight where she prepared for bed and attempted to get some rest for the next day. No one knew how much of her abilities she had retained in the merging, and the portion of her that was Sek knew it was best this way. She was far less powerful than she had been, of course, but was still formidable in how she could apply her abilities. The knowledge of what she held firmly at her fingertips was not something that should be shared. It was merely something that would be needed in the future, after she had spent time being tutored by the one awaiting her arrival. Then, when it was necessary, she would be revealed, a weapon primed to strike at precisely the correct moment.

When the time was absolutely right.

Epilogue

Ten Forward was quiet this time of afternoon, too early for the post alpha shift crowd, too late for the gamma shift to be spending time in the social center of the Sovereign-class starship, USS Enterprise-E. Captain Jean-Luc Picard's level eyes scanned the large room, focusing on the dark-skinned woman who worked behind the bar, idly mopping the top with a clean, white cloth.

He quietly crossed the space between them, taking a seat on the stool, resting his elbows on the bar.

"Can I get you something?" she asked, a touch of humor in her voice, as usual. Picard was never entirely sure whether it was he that she found so amusing, or if it was just life itself.

He shook his head. "No, thank you," he responded. "I just wanted to let you know that Voyager should be making her attempt to return tomorrow morning at 0800 hours. She should re-enter Federation space at 1700 hours, and the Enterprise has been granted permission to rendezvous with her. We'll be escorting her and her crew the rest of the way to Earth."

The woman nodded quietly. "Have you spoken to Deanna?" she asked.

He looked troubled. "She wasn't anxious to take on an assistant counselor, but I convinced her that, with the effects of the Dominion War still lingering among the crew, it would be to her advantage to have assistance." He paused, studying the woman steadily. The smooth skin gave little indication that she was well into her sixth century, but there was an aura about her, a sense of timelessness that transcended what the average senses were able to detect. "You know, Captain Janeway will undoubtedly consider this a blatant attempt by me to raid her crew for personnel. I've already requested her helmsman. Plus, there's no guarantee that this ... 'Kes' is it? ... will wish to transfer."

"She will agree," she said with a certainty he knew was futile to counter.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked.

She looked thoughtful, inscrutable. "These people will be needed," she said. "If you wish to accomplish what has to be done."

"I'm just sorry I can't bring Janeway into my confidence," he said fretfully. "As long as the Admiral is keeping an eye on her, however, I don't dare. Section 31 would know it as soon as the Admiral does." He paused, appearing vaguely rueful. "Janeway is not going to like me very much. It's considered extremely rude to be recruiting key crewmembers before the ship has even made its home port. She may be of the mistaken opinion that it's standard procedure in the aftermath of the war, but if she's half the captain I think she is, she's going to be outraged by how fast her crew is dispersed and picked up by other ships."

"Unquestionably," she allowed. "Yet, there are forces at work here much greater than one starship captain..." She eyed him, looking amused again. "Or even two. Once it is time, she will understand."

"I hope so," he said. He tapped his fingertips idly on the counter. "Is there anything else you can tell me?"

She shook her head. "Unfortunately, no," she said. She smiled, an enigma. "I'm not even sure about what I've already told you." She continued to move her cloth over the gleaming surface. "However, there is one other on board Voyager ... it would be helpful if you requested him when you recruit Kes. I believe his name is ... Ensign Neelix. He just became a commissioned Starfleet officer."

He looked at her anxiously.

"Will he also have some role to play in all this?" he asked.

She shrugged lightly. "Perhaps," she said. "But I want him because he can wait tables and has worked in this kind of setting."

She raised an eyebrow significantly.

"Do you know how hard it is to find Starfleet officers who are capable of working in the food and service industry?" Guinan asked.

The End

•  This is the 40th installment in the Just Between Series and the last 'episode' of Season Four.

• Dedicated to all the readers that have stuck around this long. *G*

• This was posted on July 21st, 2000.

Just Between Quadrants
G.L. Dartt

Seven of Nine watched her spouse of more than a year drain the last of her coffee and hold her mug out in the general direction of the young woman,. Compact, with the most marvelous blue-eyes and auburn hair laced with fire, Kathryn Janeway was a woman who radiated authority and presence like a warpcore radiated energy. That didn't necessarily hold much weight with Seven, depending on the circumstances, but when the older woman displayed her cup with wordless demand, without even looking up from her padd, the Borg did not hesitate in filling it, despite the fact that normally she was less than impressed with her spouse having that much caffeine with breakfast.

After all, if Kathryn required two or three cups of coffee to prepare for what would be, undoubtedly, a most remarkable duty shift, Seven was not going to quibble. This was only the calm before the storm, and while the couple were having breakfast as usual, it was entirely possible that this would be the last time they would be indulging in such a routine pastime ... at least, in the Delta Quadrant. Journeying for seven years, thousands of light-years from the Federation and Earth, Voyager was on the verge of attempting a totally new and experimental propulsion system that should take them back to the Alpha Quadrant in less than a day.

If it didn't work, however, they would be stranded without a faster-than-light drive, making it impossible for them to go anywhere, except possibly to the nearest habitable planet to live out the rest of their lives as settlers, rather than space travelers. Seven did not find that a particularly terrifying concept ... for her, home was wherever Janeway was ... but she knew that the captain would find it absolutely intolerable. Kathryn loved space, enjoyed being in command of this starship that explored the galaxy and challenged her intellectually, spiritually and physically. Creating a new colony would just not have the same appeal.

Seven gathered up her dirty dishes and carried them over to the replicator, sending them through the recycle setting before moving over to the kitchenette counter where she filled a tall, silvery thermos with coffee and sealed it, setting it aside for Janeway to take with her to the bridge. She glanced at her spouse, frowning when she saw that the captain had barely touched the food in front of her. She knew that what she had prepared wasn't the captain's absolute favorite choice for breakfast, but she also suspected that taste was not the real reason for Janeway's lack of appetite.

As she went out of her way to pass behind the captain, she reached out and stroked the back of Kathryn's neck. It was a familiar caress, and the captain did not seem to react beyond dipping her head a little, almost as if to grant the Borg more access. It was purely habit on the captain's part, but it made Seven smile nonetheless, and on this morning, she took the liberty of bending down to kiss the inviting nape of her spouse's neck lingeringly.

Janeway did notice that and she stiffened slightly.

"Annika?" she asked curiously.

"Merely taking advantage of the moment," Seven told her, slipping her arms around the captain's shoulders. "I may not have the opportunity in the near future."

Janeway made a rueful sound of agreement. "You're probably right," she said. She paused, dropped the padd on the table and leaned back into the Borg's embrace. She reached up to put her hand on Seven's forearm which crossed her chest. "I think I'm going to miss this more than anything else, darling; this routine we've developed in the mornings. It's given the last few years of my life a stability that I didn't know I needed until it was there."

"It will always be there for you, Kathryn," Seven promised. She nuzzled the auburn hair lovingly. "We shall establish a similar routine wherever we make our home."

"Thank you, love," the captain said, turning her head, offering her face entreatingly.

Seven kissed her obligingly, not needing much encouragement to cover those warm lips with her own. Before long, she deepened the kiss, wanting her partner to know exactly how much she loved her. Janeway's eyes remained closed when they finally parted, almost as if she were taking a few extra seconds to savor the memory of Seven's kiss beyond the actual moment of the caress. Finally, her lids fluttered open and she peered up into her partner's face.

"Are you concerned about today?"

"Not at all." Seven was supremely confident. "I believe in this drive, Kathryn. It will take us back to the Alpha Quadrant." She hesitated, tightening her embrace a little. "Are you concerned?"

"I have absolute faith in you and B'Elanna and Harry," Janeway told her sincerely. "If you three believe in this, then I have no argument with it. I'm more than ready to give the order when it's time."

"We will not disappoint you."

Janeway grinned crookedly at her. "See that you don't," she said, humor coloring her tone as she teased her partner lightly. "Or you three will have more than just me to deal with ... the entire crew will want your hides."

Seven smiled and brushed her lips across the captain's forehead. "I understand." She paused. "Of course, you would still protect me in that instance."

"Always," Janeway promised, squeezing her grip on Seven's arm. Then she straightened, drawing away from the young woman. "I need to get to the bridge."

"Of course," Seven remarked. "I am required in engineering." She glanced at the mostly untouched cereal remaining on the table. "Kathryn, you will become hungry toward midmorning. Promise me you will take time to eat."

Janeway followed her glance and blushed faintly. "Sorry," she mumbled. "Guess I'm too excited to eat." She picked up the bowl and before Seven could object, she placed it on the floor. Beneath the table, settled there in the constant hope that a scrap that might fall while the women were eating, the couple's Irish Setter immediately pounced on this unexpected bounty, slurping up the milk and granola in one swift inhalation.

"Kathryn!" Seven exclaimed.

"We don't want it to go to waste," Janeway reminded her primly as she got up from the table and made her way to the ensuite to finish her morning ablutions. The fact that nothing went to waste in the replicator's recycle setting was something the captain managed to overlook entirely, Seven noted grumpily.

The Borg sighed and picked up the now spotless dish, eyeing Jake narrowly. He parted his jaws in an ingratiating grin, hunching a little because he knew his mistress did not like it when he grabbed food off the floor, but the tip of his tail was wagging so she knew he was not really regretful at all. Besides, they both knew who was truly the alpha creature on this ship, no matter how much Seven made a point of keeping the captain reined in while in these quarters.

Seven stored the dish in the pattern buffer and made her own way to the ensuite where she cleaned her teeth and checked her appearance in the mirror. She was every inch a Starfleet science officer, her pips, one gold, one black, glinting briefly in the subdued lighting, her black and blue uniform covering her form neatly. She took a few seconds to miss her biometric outfits. Despite the way they used to cling to every curve, she found them more efficient to work in than this uniform, particularly in tight spaces such as Jeffries tubes. Since she was assigned to engineering this day, she could almost count on ending up in one before her shift was complete.

Janeway met her gaze in the mirror, and smiled as she finished running a brush through her hair.

"You look absolutely wonderful," she murmured.

Seven resisted the urge to object to that. She looked the same today as she had the day before and the day before that. The Starfleet uniform lacked the variety she had possessed with her biometric outfits, and she wished she could don her plum-colored outfit. This duty shift promised to be a special event, and she had always liked wearing that color during significant occasions. Of course, she realized that Janeway had her own reasons for appreciating how Seven looked; reasons that went beyond mere appearance. To the captain, it was not so much what the uniform made the Borg look like as what it represented, and Seven tried very hard to tolerate that.

"Have a good day, Kathryn," Seven told the captain at the door of their quarters, reaching out to hug her.

"I plan to have an incredible day," Janeway replied, returning the hug. She reached up and kissed the Borg softly, lingeringly. "Do you realize that the next time I see you, we'll probably be in the Alpha Quadrant?"

"Yes," Seven said indulgently, and smiled. "Enjoy the experience, Kathryn."

"You, too, love," Janeway said.

Seven kept the warmth of her spouse's hug with her as she took the turbolift to main engineering. As she entered the cavernous room, she blinked as she was struck by the unexpected wave of noise and the constant, agitated motion of excited people. After a moment or so, she realized that what seemed like chaos was actually controlled organization, though the Borg would never really understand why people had to talk louder and move faster at times like this. Probably a reflection on their chief of engineering, and she smiled faintly to herself as she saw Lt. B'Elanna Torres yelling orders at the top of her lungs as she stood at the main control console, directing the various crewmembers in their tasks.

The stocky, dark-haired Klingon spotted Seven, and gestured vigorously for her to join her.

"It's about time you got here," she complained when Seven was only a few feet away.

The Borg raised an eyebrow. "I am two-point-six minutes early for the beginning of our shift," she pointed out. "The captain and I were having breakfast."

"Kahless, I don't know how anyone could eat on a day like today," B'Elanna told her with a brief growl. She pressed the touch pad in front of her and tapped the schematic that appeared on the screen with her fingernail. "I want you to monitor the plasma flow through the warp manifold. If it deviates beyond six percent, we're going to have to divert any excess into the shunt through the bypass conduit."

"Yes, Lieutenant," Seven said obediently, even though she knew this as well as the engineer. B'Elanna appeared nervous for some reason, and restating the obvious was undoubtedly her way of dealing with it.

"I also need you to keep an eye on the transition coil. Make sure it remains steady at 56 tera-joules," she added. "If it goes plus or minus that level by more than 15 units, we're in trouble."

"Yes, Lieutenant."

She felt a stinging pain in her left arm, just below her shoulder muscle where the biceps began, and realized with a certain sort of shock that the Klingon had just punched her.

"Quit humoring me," B'Elanna demanded.

Wincing, Seven rubbed her arm. "Yes, Lieu--" she started, then altered it quickly. "I am not humoring you, B'Elanna."

B'Elanna stared at her evenly, then lowered her eyes. "Sorry," she apologized grudgingly, shaking her head. "I guess I'm a little anxious."

Seven thought she was a lot anxious, but decided for the sake of her limbs that she would not point that out.

"Everything is prepared, B'Elanna," she said reassuringly. "The system is completely operational. Nothing will go wrong."

"Damn it, don't say that," B'Elanna protested in an aggrieved hiss, poking the Borg in the ribs with her index finger. "You'll jinx us."

Honestly, Seven thought as she glowered, sometimes she missed working within the Borg Collective. It was so much easier to deal with mindless automatons rather than these illogical, highly emotional starship officers.

"That's better," B'Elanna said, considerably cheered as she looked at her. "Now you look like you're ready for this. It's not going to be a piece of cake, you know. We have to be ready for anything."

"I am aware of that," Seven remarked icily. "What I don't understand is why I must be in a state of antagonism to undertake this task."

"Because now you're alert, instead of all moony and romantic after your breakfast with Janeway," B'Elanna explained. She slapped one of the larger padds against the Borg's generous chest. "Here, go check out the stream regulator with Vorik." She raised her voice. "C'mon people, we've only got an hour before we break orbit. Let's get this done."

That inspired a new burst of expended energy from the Klingon's engineering staff and stifling her sigh, Seven took the padd and went to find Lt. Vorik.

This was going to be a very long day.

Janeway tucked her thermos under her arm and stepped out onto the bridge, her face composed into her best captain's mask. The excitement level in the command center was tangible, almost visible to the naked eye, and she made an effort to move calmly and deliberately as she crossed the upper level.

"Captain on the bridge," Harry Kim, standing near ops, snapped out loudly.

Janeway started abruptly at this unexpected announcement, and she glanced at the young lieutenant in surprise. "At ease, Harry," she said, smiling. "Before you sprain something."

"Uh, yes, ma'am ... uh, Captain," he said quickly, flushing as he looked down at his console.

It was as if the young man had reverted back to that green ensign he had been the day they left the Federation. Janeway resisted the urge to snicker as she made her way down the short flight of stairs to the lower command deck, nodding briefly at the Vulcan, Tuvok, in passing. The chief of security raised an eyebrow, but did not speak, concentrating on his tactical board.

"Impulse engines are online, Captain," Tom Paris announced before she had even sat down in her chair and asked for a report. The lieutenant sat alertly at the helm, obviously ready to go if the slight wiggle in his back was any indication. "Slipstream drive is standing by."

Janeway glanced at her first officer and Chakotay returned it with a faint grin, the tribal tattoo over his left brow crinkling at the corner of his twinkling eyes.

"Perhaps I shouldn't have given them yesterday for R&R after all," the captain said dryly. "They have far too much energy for their own good." Her grandfather would have made a reference to 'being full of piss and vinegar', but she didn't want to shock the commander.

The tall, handsome man's smile showed white teeth, bright against his darker complexion. "It's a special sort of day." He turned his gaze forward, raising his voice. "Let's take a deep breath here, people," he ordered. "We're not breaking orbit until 0800."

His words cut down the level of chatter, but not the atmosphere of excitement and expectation. Janeway smiled, placed her thermos on the shelf between the command chairs, and then settled back in her seat. On the fore viewscreen, the curve of an orange-brown planet filled the lower corner of a backdrop of stars, the ship having spent the last few days in orbit around it as work on the drive commenced. The world was Class-L, barely habitable, but it did have a high mineral content which made it easy for the ship to acquire any extra metals and dilithium for the propulsion project. In the same system, there was a Class-M planet which was quite hospitable ... and very promising in terms of colonization should the slipstream fail to operate. Janeway had informed Starfleet in Voyager's last transmission to the Federation, that she intended to leave a beacon on that planet, tapping into the MIDAS array. If Voyager didn't turn up in the Alpha Quadrant, as intended, then hopefully, Starfleet would be able to start, in this particular system, any search they might someday undertake.

For their descendants, if nothing else.

Around the captain, the normal sounds of a Voyager duty shift had been replaced by a steady communications buzz from the rest of the ship as it prepared for this final journey, reports coming in constantly from all the areas of the vessel. Chakotay had the console between their chairs angled toward him as he organized the various departments. Every so often he would pass on the more important messages to the captain.

"Biometrics has locked down," he said at one point. "As has Geometrics and Exobiology. Labs are secure and the specimens are sealed."

Janeway nodded and wondered if she should open her thermos ... though she fully realized that the three cups of Seven's brew she had at breakfast should hold her for a few hours, and that her partner would not approve of her overloading on caffeine this early in the day. Besides, if she opened it now, it would all be gone by lunch and she would have to settle for replicated coffee for the rest of the day ... not a pleasant prospect at all. Her fingers twitched nervously as she rested them on the arms of her chair, and deliberately, she wrapped them tightly around the leather. Honestly, could she blame the rest of the ship for being agitated when all she really wanted to do was leap to her feet right this second and order the helm to take them home?

"Ensign Neelix reports that Safe Haven is sealed and secure," Chakotay said. "All the children, as well as Jake and Fluffy, are present and accounted for."

"Excellent."

Neelix would have gone by the couple's quarters and retrieved Jake after she and Seven left, and Janeway suspected that the dog was the only one on the ship really enjoying himself at this point. He would have all day to play with Voyager's children in the ship's central section, not to mention chasing Naomi's pet B'Rethna everywhere. Undoubtedly, the children would have also picked up on the excitement from the adults around them, and the captain expected that they were currently in a boisterous and agitated mood. Neelix, Ensign Wildman, and the other officers assigned care-taking duty, would have their hands full, keeping them occupied for ten hours.

Fortunately, this was not the first time the children and pets had been required to take their place in the security of the ship's Safe Haven, a section of the vessel which had been designed for the sole purpose of protecting the most precious members of the crew. Voyager could actually fly apart around that area, and they would still survive in what was essentially an oversized escape pod, containing its own separate power supply, shields, impulse engine and navigational computer intended to transport them to the nearest, habitable planet.

Janeway blinked. Imagining Voyager coming apart was probably not the proper frame of mind for the upcoming journey, and she took a deep breath, taking her first officer's advice. They were in the home stretch now, she reminded herself. Just a few minutes longer.

"Engine room reports all secure," Chakotay said, for the third time. "They're at full capacity and standing by, awaiting your order.."

"Impatient little devils, aren't they?" she said, arching her brow.

He smiled and carried on.

"Sickbay reports secure and suggests that sedatives for the crew are always available."

The captain clamped down on the irrational giggle which rose in her throat. "Inform the Doctor to stand down on the dispersal of sedatives," she managed coolly. "But thank him for the offer."

Finally, all the last minute reports and preparations were complete. It was time, and she straightened in her chair, feeling an unmistakable sense of exhilaration flood her body.

"Lt. Paris, engage impulse engines," she instructed crisply. "Take us clear of the system."

"Aye, ma'am," the boyish helmsman replied smartly, his hands moving smoothly over his board. "Breaking orbit. Impulse engines are engaged. Course laid in for deep space, full impulse."

"Slipstream engines are coming online," Harry added from his position at ops. His voice was remarkably professional, calming now that they were underway. "All readings show green and go."

As they passed the outer edge of the star system, Tom Paris raised his head.

"Slipstream corridor is forming," he reported. "Course to the Federation plotted and laid in. Exit coordinates are set for just outside Earth's solar system."

"Structural integrity field at one hundred percent," Harry said. "Inertial dampeners are fully operational, and gravimetric emitters are online."

"Shields at one hundred percent," Tuvok added calmly. "Weapon systems are at standby. Deflector array at maximum." It would be his job to take care of any inanimate object that might pop up in the slipstream corridor, such as a random asteroid or space debris. The conduit formed through subspace tended to bypass normal space entirely, but stranger things had happened.

Janeway shot another glance at Chakotay who dipped his head in acknowledgment. Inhaling deeply, she turned her head forward, eyes fixed on the starfield displayed on the fore viewscreen.

"Engage slipstream," she ordered.

"Engaging slipstream drive, aye, Captain," Tom said, touching the necessary controls on his board.

On the viewscreen, a swirling hole opened before them and without hesitation, the starship slipped into it, the tunnel one of color and light, as a hum ... distinctly different in tone from the traditional warp engines, Janeway noted ... filled the air. There was a surge beneath her as the ship leaped forward, producing a sort of steady vibration that didn't exist under normal conditions. She shot a look back at Harry ... not concerned exactly, but needing a report.

"Structural integrity field is holding steady," he reported, without requiring any further prompting. "Phase variance well within operating standard."

She released the breath she didn't even realize she had been holding, and turned forward again. The inability of Voyager's structural integrity field to hold against the buffeting of a slipstream conduit had been one of the major obstacles in using the drive. The ship had been unable to take the pounding, inevitably coming apart under the stress. Fortunately, on previous attempts, they had been able to shut down the drive before the ship was too severely damaged, but each time, it had burned out the transition coil. That meant building a entirely new one from scratch, calling on an amazing amount of Voyager's resources and man-hours between attempts. With help from the Theoretical Propulsion Group in the Federation, headed up by Dr. Leah Brahms, who working closely with B'Elanna, Harry, and Seven, they had managed to find a solution to reduce the effects of the slipstream corridor on the ship's structural integrity. It meant running the slipstream plasma flow through the warp manifold, thus making a crucial and irreplaceable part of the ship's engines useless for traditional warp drive. However, the increased refinement of the stream lowered the turbulence to tolerable levels, and by channeling the flow to a slower output, it allowed for a much smoother ... if lengthier ... journey. Enhancements to the inertial dampeners further reduced the phase variances they had experienced before, and for all intents and purposes, it seemed that this attempt was actually going to be the one that worked.

We're really going home, Janeway thought giddily in her command chair, aware that each passing second meant light-years flying by, drawing them closer and closer to Federation space. They were really going to make it this time.

It was slightly anticlimactic, of course.

As time passed, and the ship remained steadily on course, with no more turbulence than the mild vibration they were already experiencing, the tension began easing in small increments.  It was simply impossible to maintain the same level of anticipation and excitement, and suddenly, Janeway discovered she was ravenously hungry. It would be hours before they entered Federation territory, and as they continued to travel the slipstream corridor without incident, she realized that she literally had nothing to do.

She glanced at Chakotay, who also seemed somewhat at a loss now that they were underway. None of their normal tasks, such as departmental reports or personnel reviews, were planned for this shift, and they had worked frantically to wrap up as much of the other ship's business as possible in preparation for this day. Now she realized that perhaps that hadn't been the wisest course of action, and the prospect of sitting in her chair for hours, while everyone else was fully occupied with their jobs, was quite unappealing.

"Tuvok," she said, glancing over at her security chief. "What's the status on the replicators?" She would normally ask Harry this, but the young man was totally immersed in his board, maintaining a meticulous monitor over the slipstream readings. Since the slipstream drive was partially his baby, she wouldn't dream of diverting his attention with mundane requests.

"They continue to function normally, Captain," he reported. "There has been no loss of power to any of the ship's other systems."

She nodded in satisfaction, and then discovered Chakotay was looking at her oddly. She raised an eyebrow.

"This will take about ten hours," she said. "Like it or not, people still have to eat. With the messhall shut down and Ensign Neelix sealed away in the ship's Safe Haven, replicators will have to provide all the meals for the crew today."

"God," he said, looking perplexed. "I didn't even think of that."

"Neither did I," she replied. "Until now." She smiled and leaned closer to him, lowering her tone so that only he could hear. "To be honest, I only thought of it because I didn't eat much breakfast this morning. Now, I'm absolutely famished."

He laughed and shook his head. "Somehow I don't think you're the only one. I suspect more basic bodily necessities will start to reassert themselves now that the initial excitement is over."

"Certainly, if we're very lucky, this will be an absolutely boring voyage home," she agreed. "No surprises, no diversions, no interruptions. Thanks to Seven's navigational charts, the helm has plotted a course that takes a wide berth of all known spatial anomalies and potential gravitational forces, including the galactic core. Hopefully, we should have a smooth ride."

"Let's hope so." He paused, looking toward the viewscreen. "It's a dull way to travel, though, isn't it?" he added quietly. "You can't even see the stars."

She followed his gaze, viewing the swirling corridor which extended before Voyager, the tunnel seeming endless. She noted that if one stared too long at the walls of the channel, which were a constant motion of color and light ... far different than the sharp, shooting stars of warp drive ... it actually generated a certain amount of nausea.

"You're right," she said, swallowing hard as she looked away from the screen. "No nebulae, no clusters, no anomalies to catch our eye. In fact, with the sensors set to detect anything of that nature, and to steer well clear of them, it will mean a completely different way of exploration. Slipstream ships will be required to take the trip first from point A to point B, let the sensors map out what the corridor bypassed, then come back with stops plotted in at anything that looks mildly intriguing."

"Or have dual faster-than-light drives, and only use the slipstream system when you're in a hurry."

She nodded. "It would mean a lot of refitting to any existing ship." She shook her head. "Who knows what impact this will really have on the future of starships yet to be built?"

"Maybe intergalactic travel," Chakotay suggested. "Right now we're exploring our own galaxy, and there's still so much that we haven't reached or could even hope to reach with traditional warp drive. This might take care of such limitations, and move us to the next galaxy as well."

"God," she said, her head spinning. "One thing at a time. I just want it to get us from one quadrant to the next."

"This drive, assuming it's adopted for standard use, could actually bring us back to the Delta Quadrant some day," he said soberly. "Have you thought about that, Kathryn?"

She smiled faintly. "I have," she agreed, not looking at him. "I admit that the thought of coming back, this time exploring it completely on my own terms, has crossed my mind more than once. The appeal of it is obvious."

"We came in contact with a lot of people during our journey," he agreed quietly. "It would be nice to think we might actually have the opportunity to see old friends again."

She smiled crookedly. "Or meet up with a few enemies."

He chuckled lightly and shook his head. "I'm sure if they knew there was the possibility of you coming back, they'd make plans to vacate the quadrant."

She swallowed her laugh, and reached over, patting him on the forearm. "You have the bridge, Commander. Contact me immediately if there is any change, of course. In the meantime, I'll be in my ready room ... having something to eat."

"Good idea."

She gave a final nod and uncoiled from the command chair, picking up her thermos before moving briskly over to the ready room. As she descended the short flight of stairs, she looked back, sweeping the bridge keenly, taking in the atmosphere one more time. A bit of the excitement remained, even though it was much less apparent, and she felt the flutters still stirring in her own stomach.

Next stop?

The Alpha Quadrant.

B'Elanna Torres was a bundle of nerves, going from station to station, making sure everyone was on top of their consoles, monitoring every fraction of readout. She hadn't been this hard on her staff since she first became chief engineer and went through a period of time when she didn't trust anyone to input an item of data without her knowing about it personally. Fortunately, they had gotten used to her moods over the years and seemed to understand what was driving her nervous energy this day. Everyone was remarkably tolerant at her sudden appearances behind them, peering anxiously over their respective shoulders.

She supposed she could tone it down a little, however. She finally noticed that no one was speaking in normal tones, but rather were yelling as if needing to be heard over the escaping hiss of a plasma leak or the echoing sirens of a red alert. The fact that the slipstream drive was actually quieter than the traditional warp engines made it even more apparent, and she almost laughed when she saw that Seven of Nine was actually flinching every time someone shouted out a report or a question.

"All right people," she yelled, taking her position at the main console, overriding the strident technical discussions going on. "It doesn't look like we're going to blow up any time soon. Alpha team, stand down. Beta team, take your positions."

She had her entire staff on duty, including the beta and gamma shifts, and by periodically spelling the two groups, making sure every station had two or more people on it, she hoped to maintain an extremely alert and ready crew at all times. She glanced over at Seven, who took the opportunity to look up from her board, actually twisting her head a little, as if to loosen the muscles in her neck.

The Klingon smiled.

"Tension getting to you, Borg?" she needled.

"No," Seven responded shortly. "However, the increased decibel level of communication is painful."

B'Elanna laughed. Some of the other crewmembers, glancing over, visibly relaxed at what seemed like a display of confidence and ease from their senior officer. Seven eyed the Klingon narrowly, and neatly avoided a slap on her back.

"Everyone's just really excited," B'Elanna told her, managing to get in a tap on the Borg's shoulder anyway. "It's exhilarating, isn't it? We built this damned thing ... and it's working. It's actually working!"

Seven frowned with a certain amount of alarm. "B'Elanna, if you had any doubt about the slipstream drive's ability to function, you should not have installed it."

"That's not what I meant," the Klingon explained, spreading her hands. "The thing is, Seven, you can run a piece of equipment through one test after another, but until you operate it for real, you just don't know for sure ... there's always that uncertainty. The sense of accomplishment is tremendous when the science doesn't let you down."

Seven inhaled slowly. "We have always held different views of this drive. Lt. Kim believes in the theory that created it, I believe in the science that constructed it, but you believe only in the end result, the actual function of the unit."

"We make a good team. All stages of the process are completely covered, just with the three of us." She raised an eyebrow, pausing as she regarded the Borg. "Say, have you made any final decision on what you're doing when we get back? Professionally, I mean?" She knew that Seven had, at one point, actually considered resigning her newly won commission.

"Not yet," Seven told her. "The captain suggests ... and I agree ... that more information is required before I choose an assignment."

"So you're staying in Starfleet?"

Seven nodded. "I promised Kathryn that I will 'give it a few months' to make sure of my choices before I make any final decision." She paused. "After some thought, I believe that she is correct. I should not let the fear of what might happen dictate a hasty decision. It is possible that my fears regarding our return are irrational, based on unsubstantiated information rather than solid data."

B'Elanna blinked. "All right." She tilted her head. "But you still don't know where you're going to be assigned?"

"The captain believes that I will have more choice in that than the average junior officer," Seven explained. "She says that the offers made to me by Dr. Brahms, as well as by the Vulcan Science Academy, the Trill Ministry of Technology, and the Daystrom Institute, actually accord me a certain degree of 'leverage' in my dealings with Starfleet."

"I'll say they will," B'Elanna agreed, duly impressed. She had known about the first offer, of course, but the others were a surprise, and she realized how intelligent her companion really was. Those were the finest scientific facilities in the Federation, and if they were trying to get their hands on Seven, attempting to lure her into civilian life based only on the young woman's reputation from the ship's logs, then Starfleet Command would be a great deal more amenable to any duty assignment Seven might choose. It would make sense that Seven would pursue a course related to a scientific career, and Starfleet would encourage that, rather than try to channel her into something inappropriate.

The Klingon nudged the Borg. "Listen, if you have that much choice, try for the Utopia Planitia shipyards," the engineer urged. "With Harry in San Francisco in the design section, we could keep a winning team intact." She looked away from the Borg. "Besides," she mumbled. "I'd like to be able to see you once in awhile after this is all over."

Seven dipped her head. "I shall keep that in mind," she said softly. "I too, would feel much better about my future if I knew my friends remained accessible to me."

Pleased, B'Elanna glanced at her, but before she could respond by asking what the captain was planning on doing, something on the console attracted Seven's attention. The Borg immediately touched her controls, drawing up further data.

"B'Elanna, there is a minor variance in the stream flow." Her tone was not so much concerned as merely quizzical.

The engineer frowned as she regarded the readout. "Nothing that isn't within tolerance, but you're right, there is a tiny variance there that just shouldn't exist," she said, pleased that Seven had picked that up just with a glance. She made a few adjustments, attempting to bring it back online remotely. "I know that with any new piece of technology, there's bound to be unexpected bugs." She grew thoughtful as the readings did not change. "However, I don't think this is due to the drive itself." She keyed a request for more data, pinning down the aberrant reading finally. "It's one of the bio-neural packs on deck twelve. It probably just needs to be replaced."

"I will replace it." She glanced at the Klingon and raised an eyebrow "It will be much quieter in the Jeffries tube."

B'Elanna shot her a look, then glanced around main engineering. "Fine," she said, stifling her grin. "Normally, I'd send someone else, but I need all my engineering staff here. Ironically, you're the only one I can spare at the moment."

Seven looked relieved and retrieved a tool kit and a fresh gel pack from a nearby compartment. Once outfitted, she quickly vacated the engine room, and B'Elanna watched her until the large doors cut off her view of the Borg. She decided that Seven was just as keyed up as the rest of them, but in the Borg's case, she had leapt upon the first opportunity to isolate herself from the others. Finding a quiet spot to work, devoid of any emotional displays or unnecessary excitement such as were going on in engineering suited the young woman. Of course, if B'Elanna chose to point that out to her friend, Seven would inevitably deny it, citing several dispassionate and acutely logical reasons why she was best suited for repairing the bio-neural pack, and that B'Elanna was totally mistaken in her assessment.

The Klingon smiled to herself, glad that she had found a reason which allowed Seven to get away from this animated chaos that she herself thrived on. Besides, at this point, the slipstream drive was out of the hands of Harry or even the Borg. Now it was actually required to work for real, and that was B'Elanna's specialty ... keeping a sensitive piece of equipment functioning at peak performance during actual operating conditions.

She glanced around, checking on her staff, making sure they remained alert, even though enough time had passed for them to start relaxing into the routine of running the new system. Leaving her console, she took a slow circuit of the room, checking in with each member of the beta team ... which was fair because she had almost driven the alpha team to distraction ... and keeping their attention level keen. She did consider that perhaps she didn't need two or three on every station and that it would be a good idea if a few of them took the time to relax a bit.

Unfortunately, the facilities weren't quite designed for that, and she didn't want anyone to have to leave the engineering deck. She supposed it was a little late now, but with these sort of conditions and the entire staff on duty, she was reminded that the ship could really use a recreation area of sorts near the engine room, a place where the crew could spend their downtime ... rather like the room Security used for their lounge.

Thoughts of security led naturally to thoughts of her lover.

Ro Laren had been promoted from security not long ago, and was now designated the ship's 'rover', an officer who was supposed to do whatever job the senior staff required of her. To some, it might appear as a form of glorified gopher, but B'Elanna was aware that it was really an attempt to train the Bajoran as a first officer. Janeway often utilized Ro as a sort of assistant to herself and Chakotay in their duties. Still, there wouldn't be much for Ro to do on this particular day, with the entire crew on high alert, so chances were that Ro had drifted back to her previous haunts where she had been the assistant security chief. Since security was not needed anywhere at the moment, except for Tuvok on the bridge and a few standing by in the transporter rooms and the brig as dictated by protocol, everyone else was probably hanging out in the room near the brig that they had appropriated as their lounge. It contained sofas and comfortable chairs, along with tables where they could play cards or backgammon. They were probably killing time throwing darts, or even just hanging around, speculating about what they could expect once they returned home.

Such a lounge, of course, would be perfect for her spare crewmembers at the moment, and B'Elanna decided that in her new role attached to the shipyards, she would make a point of bringing that to the design personnel's attention. Sometimes, it was forgotten that a good part of what made for a smoothly operating engineering section was actually the blood, sweat and tears poured into it by the crew. She needed to remind the padd pushers and the desk pilots that it was the ingenuity of its personnel that actually made a ship go, not just a bunch of technology and propulsion units. The comfort of the engineering personnel was just as vital as the environmental factors for the engines.

That had been her major complaint about Dr. Leah Brahms and her team of scientists, how ignorant they seemed of what each idea they threw out actually demanded in terms of personal dedication and man-hours to make it work. The Klingon had actually been surprised that Seven had considered the position the head design specialist had offered. So much of what the Theoretical Propulsion Group did was theory and lab work only. It was the shipyards that actually had to turn it all into functioning starship drives. Not to mention building the ships that surrounded those drives.

B'Elanna was truly looking forward to her return. Since the Maquis had been pardoned and her commission into Starfleet had been officially upheld, she finally felt as if she had a true place in the universe. With her romantic relationship with Ro Laren moving smoothly, after several earlier bumps, it occurred to her that her life had finally come together.

"Lt. Torres."

Frowning, the chief engineer moved over to where Susan Nicoletti and Vorik were gathered near one of the main computer monitoring stations.

"What?" she asked, looking over their shoulders at the readouts on the various view screens.

"We're picking up a flow variance," Susan said, reaching up to rest her finger on one of the screens. "It's starting to affect the plasma transference. It's nothing major, but I thought you should be aware of it."

B'Elanna's eyes narrowed as she traced the track of the tiny disruption. She felt a certain amount of relief as she pinpointed the source. "Yes, I know about this," she said. "It's a malfunctioning bio-neural pack on deck twelve. Seven's already on her way to replace it." She patted Susan on the shoulder and looked approvingly at Vorik, knowing better than to touch the Vulcan. "Good work," she complimented. "We want to be absolutely on top of this thing. Sooner or later, the bugs are going to start appearing and I want to be ready for them."

The two officers looked pleased at the praise, and B'Elanna resumed her circuit of the room, aware that offering encouragement to her staff was something that she had been forced to learn over time, usually the hard way.

"Lt. Torres!" This was more urgent, coming from Lt. Carey near the drive unit itself.

Swiftly she moved over to it. Even before he began to explain what had attracted his attention, she was reading the screens and feeling a chill ripple down her spine. She raised her head.

"Computer, locate Seven of Nine."

"Seven of Nine is in Jeffries tube eight, section three, deck thirteen," the computer replied pleasantly.

Surprised, since the Borg was supposed to be on deck twelve, B'Elanna slapped her comm badge. "Torres to Seven," she demanded. "Seven, what's going on down there?"

There was brief hesitation, then Seven's cool tones responded. "I do not believe this is just a matter of replacing a gel pack, Lieutenant. I have been tracing the line of damage and I believe the navigational array is beginning to show indications of acute degradation."

"Damn," B'Elanna cursed. "I'm on my way." She grabbed another tool kit. "Carey, you're in command. Keep that stream steady and running cold."

"Understood."

B'Elanna touched her comm badge again as she sprinted through the corridors. "Torres to Bridge."

"Bridge here," Chakotay's voice responded.

"Commander, we have something that might become serious," she explained, disdaining the turbolift in order to drop down the nearest access ladder to the deck below. "I'm heading for deck thirteen. There's a problem with the navigational array. I'll know more in a little while, but you better stand by in case we need to drop out of the slipstream corridor."

"Understood," the first officer replied. B'Elanna was thankful he didn't ask any further questions.

Because right now, she just didn't have any answers for him.

Seven of Nine glanced behind her as B'Elanna joined her in the close confines of the Jeffries tube. The Klingon looked concerned.

"Talk to me, Seven."

"The bio-neural gel packs controlling the sensor array are being stressed beyond tolerance," Seven explained. "The readings coming in from the external sensors controlling the navigational array are overloading the circuitry's ability to channel it into the computer."

"I was afraid of this," B'Elanna grumbled, checking out the tricorder readings that Seven handed her. "Not that there's much we can do about it. The technology of the slipstream drive far outstrips the upgrades we were able to make on the sensors." She glanced at Seven. "We'd better inform the captain."

"Yes," the Borg agreed, appreciating that the Klingon was not looking forward to it. Her partner could be a most intimidating presence when things did not go the way Janeway anticipated. "Would you like me to accompany you?"

B'Elanna shot her a grateful look. "Thanks, Seven. In the meantime, I'll have Vorik and Nicoletti take care of replacing any burnt out gel packs."

It took a few minutes for B'Elanna to contact her people and for the two women to crawl out of the Jeffries tubes and make their way to the turbolift. The amber wash of a yellow alert ... undoubtedly called due to B'Elanna's warning to Chakotay ... greeted them as they entered the bridge, and Janeway rose from her command chair upon seeing the two women. The captain studied their faces and apparently realized this report needed to be given in private, motioning them to her ready room. Silently, Seven accompanied the Klingon into the sanctum of the captain's private office.

"Report," Janeway said shortly, moving around the desk and sitting down.

"This is a minor problem that has the potential of becoming a major one," B'Elanna explained crisply, handing the captain a padd. She had worked on it while in the turbolift, and Seven had been impressed by how quickly the Klingon had produced the report. "The navigational array isn't able to keep up with the slipstream drive. The two levels of technology are just too far apart."

"Was this considered before the drive was installed?" Janeway demanded, scanning the data on the padd.

"Of course," Seven interjected coolly. "All the systems tied into the slipstream drive were upgraded as far as our limited resources were able to manage. Unfortunately, it appears that those upgrades were insufficient."

B'Elanna spread her hands. "The trouble is that the navigational array isn't able to decipher all the data the external sensors are picking up."

"You mean we're blinded, as we were in the forming nebula," Janeway asked, referring to a recent encounter which had caused various members of the crew to lose access to certain of their senses. Seven, who had lost her eyesight, was forced to control a shudder at the reminder.

"No, they're still working," B'Elanna explained. "Better than the navigational array, actually.  We're just going so fast, and the sensors are picking up so much data, it's overloading the gel packs ability to process it. If we slow down the data so that the gel packs can transfer it to the helm, then a situation is created where the array is lagging behind the sensors, as if we're experiencing a temporal distortion of sorts. The points of navigational reference between where the ship thinks it is compared to where it actually is at any given second is steadily degrading."

"I must point out that our course was charted utilizing the knowledge we possessed of the space between us and the Federation," Seven added calmly. "Unfortunately, there are certain sectors which are completely unknown to both my memories of the Borg Collective, and the Federation database. If we encounter an unexpected spatial anomaly of sufficient gravimetric pull, it could divert us from our plotted course, just as it did when we tested the slipstream drive on the shuttle. It is possible that we would be unaware of any such alteration in our course until we arrive at the exit coordinates."

"The only way we could prevent it is to stop every so often, and determine our bearings from normal space," B'Elanna said. "Though Kahless only knows what sort of situation we would pop into. It could be in the middle of a war or something."

"I see," Janeway said. "You're recommending that we shut down the drive periodically?"

Seven raised her head. "That would be inadvisable," she objected. "Previously, emergency shutdowns resulted in the distruction of the transition coil. Even a controlled exit from the corridor causes a certain amount of irreparable damage to the interior structure of the coil. It would require very little disruption before becoming unusable." She paused. "It requires four-point-six months to rebuild a transition coil, not including the time involved for acquiring certain, necessary elements in its construction," she reminded the captain ... unnecessarily, Seven realized as she saw the slight tightening of Janeway's jaw.

"So you're telling me that we can't see what's around us, and we can't stop if we want to make it back to the Alpha Quadrant," Janeway said. She looked at them both. "Can we slow down in any fashion ... allow the helm to catch up to the sensors?"

B'Elanna blinked. "The rate of stream through the manifold can be modulated, but not any lower,. We already have it running as cold as we can, just to make sure the structural integrity field isn't unduly stressed."

Janeway took a deep breath and looked back at the padd. "You say that the transition coil should be able to stand one shutdown?"

Seven and B'Elanna exchanged glances. "Only one," Seven offered reluctantly. "Any more, and the damage would possibly be too much to allow for a restart." She paused. "Indeed, it is possible that one would be too much."

"I disagree, Captain," B'Elanna said, looking quickly over at Seven. "I think this latest coil we built is good for two or three shutdowns without causing a significant problem in the restart sequence."

Janeway glanced at her, then at Seven, confronted by two opposing opinions. Her gaze was distant as she thought furiously.

"We'll have to risk shutdown," she decided finally. "I have no intention of ending up in the beta or gamma quadrant somewhere." She hesitated. "Or discover we've just gone in one large circle and ended up back at the very star system where we started out this morning." She met the eyes of her chief engineer. "I am going to order a controlled shutdown at 1300 hours. That should give you a couple of hours to prepare as best you can. We'll stop long enough for astrometrics to determine exactly where we are, and gather as much information about what lies ahead."

"Guess we won't be home for dinner," B'Elanna noted, seeming unfazed by this. Since the Klingon had been working on the transition coil extensively since the last time they had made this attempt, Seven decided that perhaps B'Elanna had more faith in its ability to initiate a restart than she did.

"No," Janeway agreed. "We might just have to hope for midnight. Get on it."

"Aye, Captain," B'Elanna said, turning to leave. Seven moved to follow her, but a softly worded 'Seven' from the seated woman made her pause.

Curiously, she waited as the door slid shut behind the Klingon, linking her hands behind her back, eyeing her partner curiously.

"You had absolute faith in the slipstream drive," Janeway said quietly.

"The drive is functioning perfectly," Seven pointed out reasonably. "It is the rest of Voyager's technology that is failing in its performance."

Despite the situation, Janeway smiled and shook her head. "I suppose I asked for that one." Her blue-grey eyes centered on Seven, staring at her evenly. "Do you think B'Elanna is being overconfident with the capabilities of the coil?"

Seven hesitated, and then shook her head. "She is more familiar with the tolerances of the actual technology than I am. I can only offer an opinion based on scientific extrapolation. If she believes it will tolerate more than one shutdown, then she is probably correct."

Janeway nodded, accepting the assessment. "You're going to have to call in your astrometrics staff, and have them ready to begin indepth scans as soon as we drop out of the corridor."

"I understand, Captain," Seven said. She hesitated. "Is that everything?"

"Would it be unprofessional if I asked for a kiss, Lieutenant?" Janeway asked, her eyes shading to a lighter greyish-blue. "Before we have to tackle this new crisis?"

Seven tilted her head. "Yes," she noted coolly. "Protocol specifically prohibits fraternization between officers while on duty."

A muscle twitched in Janeway's jaw. "Then, I guess it's a good thing that I'm the captain, and I'm not going to report it," she said wryly. "Or you could simply consider yourself on a temporary reprieve from duty for the next five minutes on my authorization ... if it would make you feel any better about it."

Seven tilted her head, vaguely amused. "Why is this necessary?"

Janeway smiled, her gaze becoming hooded. "Merely taking advantage of the moment," she said, deliberately quoting the Borg's words of earlier in the morning.

"Indeed," Seven remarked. She dipped her head. "Am I required to come over there, or will you come over here?"

Janeway regarded her evenly. "I'm not sure how safe it is to bring you over here. If I remember correctly, you don't have the proper reverence for the captain's desk that a crewmember should."

Seven raised an eyebrow. "I have far more 'reverence' than the average crewmember," she corrected. "After all, I have certain ... significant memories associated with it that no one other than you should be aware of."

Janeway dipped her head, tired of the banter. "Come here."

Obligingly, Seven crossed the space and leaned over the desk, supporting herself by placing her hands flat on the smooth surface, bending down to cover the captain's warm lips. She felt Janeway's hands come up to cup her face, pulling her closer as the kiss lingered, deepened, becoming slightly passionate.

"Damn," Janeway whispered when they had finally parted, staring up at her spouse with warm eyes. "Why is it that the hint of danger always arouses me?"

"I do not know, Kathryn," Seven told her quietly, pale eyes searching the classic features. "Perhaps you are not receiving enough affection during calmer periods. I shall have to take stronger measures to rectify that ... in the future."

"I can hardly wait," Janeway said. She inhaled slowly and released the Borg, leaning back in her chair, suddenly becoming Voyager's commanding officer once more. "You're dismissed. Ask Chakotay to come in here when you pass through the bridge."

"Yes, Captain," Seven said, straightening and turning, leaving the ready room.

Since accepting her commission, the Borg had noticed a certain difference in her spouse. When the captain went so far as to temporarily push protocol aside during their duty shifts, it sprang from a far greater need, a stronger desire to indulge in a brief interlude with her partner ... almost as if the sight of Seven's uniform would hold Janeway back until she couldn't stifle herself any longer. As a result, Janeway's reactions were far more powerful and amorous ... and perhaps slightly more inappropriate. It was possible that Seven being in Starfleet was making Janeway uncertain about how to deal with her natural desire for her partner, and certainly, it was something they needed to address in the near future. Seven would have to consider the concept very carefully.

As she ascended the stairs of the bridge, she nodded at Commander Chakotay who regarded her expectantly.

"The captain wishes to speak with you, sir."

She was proud that she remembered the 'sir'. That was probably her weakest trait as a Starfleet officer ... remembering who actually had rank on her and who she could order around. The chain of command was still not as efficient as it could be to her mind, and niceties, such as terms of address, frequently got lost as she adapted to her commission.

He seemed surprised, then amused. "Thank you, Lieutenant," he said as he got up and moved toward the ready room. She did not look back as she entered the turbolift and instructed it to take her to deck six. On the way, she used her comm badge to contact the Delaney sisters, Tal Celes, and the rest of the astrometrics department.

They had a lot of work to do, and undoubtedly, only a short time in which to do it.

Janeway glanced up as Chakotay entered her ready room. Her lips still tingled from her spouse's kiss, and her only regret was that they couldn't have spared more time for further 'fraternization'. Really, it was just as well she was taking some time away from ship duty. Any longer in the Delta Quadrant, and she would have forgotten all those little rules and regulations that she once deemed so important only two years ago, now considering them to be nothing more than an aggravation designed to keep her from being herself. She granted that there were many times that a starship captain had to forget who she was as a person, and be only the Starfleet officer, but Janeway had discovered that she was a lot happier incorporating the woman into her command, than she had ever been trying impose the command on the woman.

Chakotay sat down in the chair opposite her. "What's up?"

She quirked an eyebrow and handed him the padd containing B'Elanna's report. "We're going to have to make a controlled shutdown of the slipstream drive," she told him. "I've scheduled it for 1300 hours so that astrometrics has enough time to recalibrate the sensors, and realign the navigational array. Hopefully, our course will not require readjustment, but we'd better make sure."

He skimmed the report, then nodded. "I suppose if this is the worst that happens, we're doing fine."

She took a breath. "If the transition coil is unable to reinitiate the drive, we're stuck wherever we stop," she warned, "for a few months at least."

He shrugged lightly. "That's always been one of the risks from the beginning. We'll adapt."

The corner of Janeway's mouth curled up. "Have you been speaking with my spouse?"

"Hey, even the Borg have good ideas now and again," he countered lightly.

She smiled and leaned back in her chair. "So how do we present this to the crew so that they don't become alarmed?" she asked. "We presented a choice of going home, or being stranded in the Delta Quadrant. We never mentioned stopping to take a look around."

"Call it a lunch break," Chakotay suggested with a grin. He shook his head. "Just tell them the truth, Kathryn. Your crew trusts you. They know you wouldn't lie to them."

"Fine," Janeway said, pleased by the compliment implied in his assurance, particularly since both of the senior officers were aware that the crew was made up from such opposing sources: Starfleet personnel assigned to a newly commissioned Intrepid-class ship, and a ragtag group of Maquis outlaws fighting Cardassian oppression, as well as the crewmembers from the Delta Quadrant they had just picked up for the ride. Every single one of them had complete faith in Captain Janeway, willing to follow unquestioningly wherever she had to lead them.

She touched her console, putting in a ship-wide memo to all hands, priority one, informing them of the upcoming interruption in their journey, and why it was necessary. She hoped by making it a memo rather than a formal, verbal announcement, they would view it more as an inconvenient procedure than anything that they should be disturbed about.

She glanced back at her first officer. "I've never had a chance to ask you about your future, Chakotay," she said. "Perhaps this isn't the best time, but I was surprised to hear that you've accepted a position at the Academy. I personally recommended you for command of a starship in my reports to Starfleet, and I honestly believe you would make a wonderful captain. Certainly, the Federation needs all they can get at the moment."

"I appreciate that, Captain. But I want to put down a few roots first, set up a true home. I think it's particularly important for Icheb. He loves the stars as much as I do, but it would do him good to be educated on Earth for awhile."

Janeway grinned crookedly. "Amazing, isn't it? All our decisions for the future are now based on our family necessity, rather than any professional goals."

He shrugged lightly. "Maybe that's the way it should always be," he allowed. He paused, eyeing her narrowly. "Are you going to tell me that you're not happier making a decision that includes Seven, rather than persuing a life where the one you love can't share it?"

Janeway blushed a little. "Not at all. I'm the first to admit that marriage has been good for me, both personally and professionally."

She thought of how it had been seven years ago, of her going on a mission which should have lasted no longer than a week or so, and of the man she left behind. Mark Johnson was not a member of Starfleet, had not really been a part of her professional decisions, other than the knowledge that he would support them. Why had she ever accepted his offer of marriage? It was obvious in retrospect that she had not been the slightest bit ready to find a way to incorporate him into her life full time. By being involved with Seven, the captain had discovered that her professional accomplishments meant little if her personal ones were not equally as important to her.

"You can't say being out here hasn't been a learning experience," she quipped lightly.

He smiled, then leaned forward, touching her hand. "We were part of something pretty remarkable, Captain. I want you to know we're all aware of that on some level."

"It was very special," she agreed, entwining her fingers with his, gripping his hand tightly for the moment as she gazed into her good friend's dark eyes. "But we're not home yet."

He dipped his head, understanding that the interlude was over. He smiled, a bit wistfully, as if realizing that they would not have many other opportunities for moments such as these, and rose from his chair. He left the ready room, not requiring any kind of formal dismissal from her. Her eyes followed him out before dropping back to the padd containing B'Elanna's report, checking over the technical challenges they were facing.

In a way, most of the information contained within it was quite promising. The slipstream drive was functioning beyond all expectations, and even if they were forced to lose the transition coil, it was replaceable. Taking a few months to construct a new one was a far cry from not being able to go home at all. She made a mental note to remind astrometrics to find the nearest, habitable planet the second they popped out into normal space. She would want to have that option available, regardless of what happened.

She rubbed her eyes after several minutes, and leaned back in her chair, taking a break. Her thoughts kept lingering on her conversation with Chakotay, unable to keep from contemplating all that had happened to her the past seven years, and what lay ahead. When her eyes fell inadvertently on the thermos sitting unopened on her desk, she decided it was just what she needed to enhance her thought processes, and took the opportunity to unseal it, pouring herself a fresh cup of her spouse's special brew. She was actually proud of herself that she had managed to hold off for this long.

She stood up and carried her cup around the desk and up the short flight of stairs to the upper level of the ready room, pausing before the large viewports which dominated the room. Sipping the steaming liquid, she found herself staring out at the slipstream tunnel carrying her ship home, not really seeing the slipstream tunnel itself but what it signified instead, about her future and possibly the future of two quadrants. Chakotay was right, she thought idly, they had been part of something very special, and if nothing else, this final leg to their journey was proof. This new drive could revolutionize the way Federation vessels explored the galaxy.

But he was also right in how boring it was. She had to look away from the swirling mass of color, taking a seat on the sofa where she deliberately turned her back on the outside tableau. She had always found a starfield to be a particularly soothing and welcome sight, able to spend hours staring out at them, particularly when the ship was undergoing night watch and few crewmembers were on duty. In those early years, she would sometimes come to her ready room just to watch the stars pass by, wondering what she was missing by having to keep such a constant and narrow path back to the Alpha Quadrant. Though she had determined that Voyager would operate under Starfleet protocols, accumulating as much scientific data as possible while in the Delta Quadrant, their main mission was always to return home, not to do the thorough investigation she occasionally wanted.

Would the slipstream drive allow her to finally return to her first love, the pursuit of scientific discovery and exploration?

She smiled crookedly. Her first love, she reminded herself pointedly, was Seven of Nine, and with any luck, her immediate future would be to be at the side of her spouse. The young woman possessed such a brilliant mind, and upon their return, it was Janeway's intention to help the Borg find a path which would allow her to use that intelligence to its fullest extent. The captain remembered an encounter in the Delta Quadrant, a run in with an alien 'Think Tank', which had turned out to be somewhat less than benevolent in their intentions. Their leader had been a short, stocky male who's behavior was as repugnant as the day was long, but he had said something to the captain she had never forgotten; that Seven was wasted on Voyager and how Janeway was restricting the Borg from being all she could be.

To a certain extent, Janeway had been forced to agree with him ... in so far as how the ship's situation did not always provide the proper intellectual stimulation for Seven, but now that they were returning to the Federation, Seven had many opportunities available to her, enabling her to work and interact with some of the Alpha Quadrant's most brilliant minds. Janeway intended to use all her command authority ... and what few strings the Janeway name could still pull ... to make sure Seven could make any choice she wanted, yet still remain in Starfleet. If that meant Janeway had to take a year or so off while Seven explored her options, then she was more than willing to arrange that.

Besides, both women wanted children, and this seemed a perfect opportunity to expand on their family unit. Returning to Earth, spending some time in Indiana, touching base with old friends and family ... it was the captain's hope that she could be impregnated immediately. With any luck, she could carry the babies to term and deliver their offspring in the first year, then spend another six months or so with them on Earth before pushing for a new command which would take them all back into space, living a life of both science and exploration.

Perhaps contemplating such a future seemed a bit mundane for the two women after all they had seen and done, but after several years where success was measured by getting through one crisis after another with lives and limbs intact, such a domestic existence seemed like heaven to the captain. Certainly, Seven had sacrificed enough for her partner's career, had accepted decisions that Janeway had made as captain, even when she hadn't agreed with them ... now it was time for the Borg to have the ultimate priority in their lives.

It was the least she could do, Janeway decided.

Ro Laren entered astrometrics, taking note of the cool, yet intense atmosphere of the lab as personnel hurried to gather all the information they could on the surrounding stars. The shutdown of the slipstream drive had been relatively simple, with the ship dropping out of the tunnel as easily as it had ever dropped out of warp. There were a few anxious moments as they looked around, hoping they hadn't landed in a potentially deadly circumstance, but space turned out to be clear for lightyears. However, long-range sensors did detect traces of warp signatures, making it obvious that ships of some kind had passed through at one time or another in recent weeks. Janeway issued the order that they would be moving along in a few hours, and the astrometrics department immediately set to work on calibrating the sensors, determining exactly where they were.

Ro had been instructed by Chakotay to offer her services to the department. She was no astrophysicist of course, but she knew how to read star charts, navigate by stellar triangulation, and had become rather good at organizing personnel.

Seven looked up as she entered and raised an eyebrow enquiringly.

"What can I do, Seven?" Ro asked.

"Assist Tal Celes," Seven told her promptly, turning her head to look across the lab at a slender woman working by herself at a console. "She is correlating our position."

Unlike a lot of department heads, Seven did not question the arrival of additional help or become disgruntled at the implication that her department could not handle the job. She would simply accept every resource offered and set them to work, even if a complete stranger wearing admiral's bars had appeared. That attitude worked well on Voyager. Ro wasn't sure how it would work in another situation with other Starfleet personnel. She did not envy the young Borg in finding out, and she sighed as she made her way across the lab to where Celes was working.

Tal Celes was a young Bajoran, barely out of cadet status when this journey began. She was not average Starfleet material, far more uncertain about her abilities than most officers, and Ro often wondered what had happened at the Academy or the early years on Voyager to cause such insecurity. Of course, not everyone was cut out for starship duty nor was it always apparent until they took their first tour of it. However, Tal Celes had served for seven years on a ship in the most dire of circumstances, and it had still not helped her confidence at all, which greatly confused the older Bajoran.

Recently, Janeway had asked Ro to take the young woman, as well as two other underachievers, under her wing, and give them each some special, personalized attention from the senior officer. The Bajoran wasn't sure what she had done to antagonize the captain so much that Janeway would slap her with this kind of duty, but so far it had been primarily an exercise in futility, if not sheer aggravation.

Billy Telfer, the young man in exobiology, had been the easiest to deal with. After his away mission with the captain, he had lost a certain amount of his hypochondria and become more self-assured in his duties. Like a puppy, eager to please if incredibly clumsy in how he went about it, she had found him responding to her most favorably, actually feeling as if she were getting somewhere with him. The second 'lost sheep', Mortimer Harren, irritated the hell out of Ro, and it had taken all her discipline not to slap him across the dark little room he had set up for himself down on deck fifteen. She was still working out some method to fulfill her orders regarding him that did not involve taking him on a tour of the outside of the ship ... without a spacesuit.

Tal Celes, however, completely baffled her. With both women being Bajoran, there had been an expectation that they would have some common ground with which to develop a working relationship. That hadn't been the case, at all. Two more different women could not be found, and Ro was frequently left astounded by the woman's attitude and approach to life. They hadn't even agreed on something so basic as names, and Ro had been horrified to discover that the young woman had not even clarified her position about it. The Bajoran custom had the family name first, the individual's name second, and Starfleet had no problem honoring that tradition. Ro Laren was properly addressed as Lt. Ro, with Laren being her given name, and was very quick to correct people whenever they made an error. She did understand that some Bajorans, in the past, had gone so far as to switch them in order to make the adjustment to Starfleet, but that wasn't Celes's story either.

Tal Celes was her Bajoran name, yet she was still constantly referred to as Ensign Celes, which was like calling Janeway, Captain Kathryn or Kim, Lt. Harry. When Ro had asked her why she didn't correct people and clear up the misunderstanding, the young woman had just shrugged and told her that names didn't really matter ... that she had been addressed that way since the Academy and it wasn't worth causing a fuss over.

That concept had so boggled Ro that she hadn't even gotten angry at the young woman. She had just returned to her quarters and spent all evening raging at B'Elanna about how stupid it all was and how this girl was a total lost cause. The Klingon had been vastly entertained by the Bajoran's outrage ... possibly since it wasn't aimed at her and Ro indulged in temperamental outburst so rarely ... and had encouraged her by dropping provocative comments now and again to keep her going. When Ro finally realized what B'Elanna had been doing, she promptly pounced on her, and they spent a fairly pleasant, if strenuous, interlude on the living room floor which, for all its appeal, had not helped her at all in coming up with a way to handle Tal Celes.

"Ensign Tal," Ro greeted pointedly when she saw her.

"Sir," Celes responded, her eyes wide as she saw who had joined her. Ro was aware that she intimidated the hell out of the young woman. She wasn't sure whether it was because of her reputation as a formidable security officer, her past as both Maquis outlaw and crewmember of the USS Enterprise, or the fact that she was now assigned to the senior officers as their 'rover'. It wasn't something she found particularly useful when working with her, however. Indeed, sometimes it made it even more difficult.

"What's our status?" Ro asked, looking over the charts displayed on the viewscreen and several padds scattered over the console.

Celes hesitated, then pointed out a star cluster on one of the padds. "I think we're in the Alpha Quadrant," she said. "But still quite far from the Federation."

Ro studied the long range sensors carefully. "I believe you're right," she said. "Though from this, it seems we're way off course."

"I could be wrong," Celes said hastily. "Lt. Seven plotted the initial course."

"Did you check these?"

"Several times, but..."

Ro shook her head. "Then, we're off course." She lifted her head. "Seven, come over here."

The tall blonde glanced over, finished her conversation with Jennifer Delaney, and made her way over to the work console.

"If we continue on this course, we're going to end up in the beta quadrant on the other side of Romulan space," Ro told her.

"Indeed," Seven said, looking at the chart. She glanced up at Ro. "Did you recheck these against the sensor logs, Lt. Ro?"

"I didn't have to, Ensign Tal did," Ro said flatly.

Startled, Seven regarded her quizzically, and then back at the younger woman who quailed visibly as those pale eyes settled on her. "Is this correct, Ensign ... Tal?"

"Yes, ma'am," Celes said faintly.

Seven said no more about it. She merely looked over the charts again and made some corrections to the data. "In that case, I believe this course will be more appropriate. Apparently, it is as we feared. An undetected gravimetric anomaly has altered our trajectory."

"Is this why we stopped?" Ro asked, regarding the Borg keenly. "Not just to realign the navigational array?"

Seven nodded. "The sensors are unable to transmit data quickly enough to the main computer. Without checking our location, we would not have been aware of this alteration until after we arrived."

"Then it's lucky Ensign Tal discovered it so quickly," Ro noted blandly.

Seven eyed her again, then turned to Celes. "Yes. This is ... a most adequate performance, Ensign."

From anyone else, it would have been insulting in the extreme. From Seven, it was probably the closest she could get to a professional pat on the back. Fortunately, Celes seemed to understand that and looked quite pleased and very overwhelmed. Ro offered the Borg the faintest of grins, and Seven looked back with a great deal more comprehension in her gaze than others would perhaps give her credit for. She may not be the most personable individual outside the quarters she shared with her spouse, but Ro knew that underneath all that Borgness lay a warm and kind disposition. Seven just didn't always know how to show it in a professional manner to people who weren't personal friends.

The door to the lab hissed open and Janeway entered. As soon as the captain spotted Seven and Ro, she immediately headed over to them. Ro sensed Celes growing pale and tense beside her, and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"Report," Janeway said crisply, as soon as she reached them.

"We are off course," Seven responded coolly. "Had we continued on the initial heading, we would have ended up here." She pointed out the chart in question and Janeway raised her eyebrow.

"In the beta quadrant with the Romulan Republic between us and the Federation? Starfleet would have loved that, especially considering this drive we're using." She contemplated the charts. "Why were we drawn so far off course?"

"Unknown," Seven replied. "Perhaps after examining the sensor logs in detail..."

Janeway held up her hand. "That would take longer than I would care to spend here. I don't like the looks of those recent warp signatures, and now is not the time to become involved with a first contact. It's too much on Voyager's plate at one time."

"For what it's worth, Captain," Ro said dryly, "It looks like we're now in the Alpha Quadrant."

Surprised, Janeway looked at the Bajoran, then down at the chart again. "So we are," she said, with a certain amount of wry irony. "But still only halfway to the Federation from where we were." She paused and glanced back at the Borg. "How long before you have the new charts for the helm?"

Seven bent her head. "Two hours, forty-two minutes."

Janeway looked at her and frowned. "Would it do any good if I told you I wanted them in an hour?"

Seven tilted her head. "No."

Janeway shot a look at Ro, a flash of blue-grey impishness, then grinned faintly at the Borg. "Then I'll hold you precisely to your time table. In two hours and forty-two minutes, I'm giving the order to reinitialize the drive."

"We will be ready," Seven remarked, completely unintimidated.

Janeway nodded. "Do you need Ro any longer?"

"I did not require her at all," Seven remarked honestly.

"It's so nice to be appreciated," Ro said sardonically.

Janeway bit off a short bark of laughter, while Seven appeared vaguely puzzled and Celes, who had been attempting to be as unobtrusive as possible, looked completely astounded. Ro thought that was fair, because frankly, the young woman had provided more than her share of consternation to the older Bajoran.

"Fine, you're with me, Ro," Janeway said, firmly. "Seven, I want you on the bridge when we initiate the drive."

"Yes, Captain."

Ro followed the captain out of astrometrics, having to move quickly to keep up with the brisk pace of the older woman. When they stepped on the turbolift, she waited as Janeway said 'bridge' in a vaguely distracted tone, and the lift began to ascend.

"I want you to take over tactical," Janeway told her. She didn't explain what she had Tuvok doing in the meantime, but then, it was not required that she explain herself to the lower ranked officer.

"Aye, Captain."

Janeway looked at her, a slightly odd expression in her blue-grey eyes, and Ro resisted the urge to ask what was up. Sometimes, she did understand how uncertain Celes felt ... but only around this particular officer.

When they entered the bridge, Ro took over tactical and kept half an eye on the captain as Janeway took Tuvok aside and spoke to him in an intent tone, too low for the Bajoran to hear. Tuvok nodded and immediately went to the turbolift, the doors sliding shut behind him. It was entirely possible Ro would never know why Janeway had sent him away from the bridge at this particular time, but it still ate at her. She supposed that it wasn't only her lover that had an incessant need to know everything that was going on at any given moment.

The next hours passed quickly as the bridge crew kept a close watch on the space surrounding them. Not only were they keeping track of the many warp signature traces only a few light-years away, they were kept busy running comprehensive scans on this completely unfamiliar sector for the future use of the ship's science officers, who had been required to lock down their labs for this final journey. As they worked, the Bajoran noticed that Janeway seemed unusually agitated, moving from station to station, making sure everything was going smoothly. If Ro didn't know any better, she would have said the captain was nervous, though she didn't understand why.

Ro glanced up as Seven stepped onto the bridge, and realized they would soon be getting underway. Janeway also noted the arrival of the Borg and left off her consultation with Chakotay at the science station, both officers moving back to their command chairs.

"Bridge to engine room," Janeway said flatly as Ro ran a final check through her console, making sure the shields and weapons system were standing by. "Status?"

"Engine room here," Torres's voice responded promptly. "All systems at optimum. Standing by."

"Initiate slipstream."

"Aye, Captain," B'Elanna said. "Initiating slipstream."

Several moments passed. Uneasily, Ro and Seven exchanged glances and the Bajoran saw a look of dismay in the Borg's pale eyes.

"Engines remain offline," Tom Paris said. "Initiation has failed. Transition coil remains inactive."

Janeway sat up straight. "B'Elanna, report. What's going on down there?" Her voice was terse, her hands gripping the arms of her command chair anxiously.

There was nothing but silence from the comm channel, and Ro wondered what the hell they were supposed to do now?

Seven of Nine was about to leave the bridge and head down to engineering when the next call came over the channel.

"Uh, sorry about that," B'Elanna's voice said cheerfully. "Minor error in the startup sequence. It's fixed now. Reinitiating slipstream drive."

A hum rose around them, and Seven felt relief flood her as the unmistakable surge of the slipstream propulsion system was transmitted through her feet from the deck plates. She shot another look at Ro who appeared slightly amused at the scare.

Janeway, however, did not find it the slightest bit amusing, and she leaned forward in her chair, her face tight with annoyance. Perhaps that initial shock of the drive failing had been sharper than most realized, Seven decided, thus making the captain's subsequent reaction a little stronger than it necessarily had to be.

"Lieutenant, I require more concise reports than that," Janeway snapped.

"But ... aye, Captain," B'Elanna replied, her tone becoming notably subdued. Obviously, the delay in startup had not been particularly bothersome down in engineering, but the Klingon obviously was beginning to realize that on the bridge, they were a little more on edge, particularly since they didn't know what was going on exactly. "Drive is clean and cold, slipstream power is online."

"Activating slipstream drive," Tom remarked, touching his board.

Janeway took a breath. "Engage."

The ship lurched into the new corridor forming in front of them, and the crew seemed to breathe a unified sigh of relief as they once more got underway. Seven noticed that Janeway remained agitated, however, wiping her hands on her trousers periodically and drumming her fingers on the arm of her chair. She saw Chakotay lean over to her, saying something that even Seven's enhanced hearing couldn't pick up, and shortly after, Janeway rose and left the bridge, going into her ready room.

A few minutes later, Chakotay glanced over his shoulder at Seven.

"Can you stand down, Lieutenant?"

She checked her console, made a few adjustments, and then nodded. "Yes, Commander."

He made a few entries into a padd and handed it back to her. "Take this to the captain."

She raised an eyebrow curiously, but obeyed, going over to the ready room and touching the admittance panel near the door. From within, she heard the faint echo of the chime, then a terse, 'come' from her spouse.

Janeway was standing on the upper level of the ready room, hands on her hips, staring at Seven. The Borg thought she saw faint surprise cross the captain's gaze, almost as if Janeway had been expecting someone else. She frowned.

"Yes?"

Seven held out the padd. "Commander Chakotay ordered me to bring this to you," she said, ascending the short flight of stairs.

Janeway eyed her oddly, then accepted the padd, reading it. Her eyes flashed as she looked back at Seven.

"Do you know what's in here?" she demanded, sounding almost angry.

Seven blinked, baffled. "No. I was not instructed to read it."

Janeway stared at her a little longer, then took a deep breath. Wordlessly, she handed the padd to the Borg and Seven scanned the contents.

"Spend a few moments with Seven ... and calm down, before you drive yourself and everyone else crazy," she read. She felt confused and looked at Janeway for clarification. "Explain."

Janeway shook her head, but now she was looking more rueful than aggravated. "I've been driving my first officer and the bridge crew to distraction, I'm afraid," she admitted. "It was so bad, he suggested that perhaps I should come in here and work on updating the personnel files, which is, of course, a polite way of telling me to get out of everyone's hair and let them do their jobs. I honestly expected him to come in and nag me about it further, but I guess he sent you instead." She paused, tilting her head as she glanced at Seven. "Can the ship spare you?"

"In truth, B'Elanna has everything well in hand, and now that we are underway again, I am not required in astrometrics," Seven allowed. She studied her partner closely. "Why are you so agitated, Kathryn? What is the matter?" The use of the captain's name took them outside of rank, into the area of their personal lives. Janeway did not object, perhaps requiring it at the moment.

She started to respond, stopped, and then shrugged. "I don't know," she admitted after a moment, frustration and faint embarrassment edging her tone. "Maybe it's this method of traveling ... the sense of not being sure of where we're headed. It's making me uneasy."

Seven raised an eyebrow. "We have never knew where we were headed, or what lay ahead in the Delta Quadrant."

Janeway nodded. "I know," she allowed, pacing a bit, moving her hands as she spoke. "I just don't want to end up in Romulan space. It would be the height of irony to manage to survive the Kazon, the Borg, the Hirogen and the Malon, only to end up captured by a Romulan warbird because we took a wrong turn this close to home. The Romulans have been enemies of the Federation for a long time, and even if they were allied with us during the Dominion war, I know they would love to get their hands on an experimental drive like this."

Seven inhaled slowly, watching her pace. "This is not like you," she stated finally, with firm certainty. "You do not allow circumstances to affect you unduly ... not to this extent."

Janeway paused briefly, looking back at her. "No, I don't." She paced a little more, but this time her face was thoughtful, hands linked behind her back as she worried the situation like a puppy with a bone. "It's very similar to a premonition, Annika. As if I'm expecting something to go wrong any minute, and the longer I wait, the more disturbed I become."

Seven was surprised. She had never known the captain to indulge in such fanciful speculation before, but then, she had also never known her to become ruffled by nothing either. Something had to be causing this disconcertion in her partner, and it behooved her to get to the bottom of it.

"Perhaps it is subconscious."

Janeway turned and looked at her, surprised. "How so?"

"You are accustomed to a certain sound and 'feel' of Voyager. Perhaps the difference in the slipstream drive, as opposed to the more familiar vibration of the warp engines, is disturbing you. I know that B'Elanna was also unusually agitated this morning, until she was assured the drive was functioning properly."

The captain looked astonished. "That's your first guess?"

"No, it is the most unlikely one," Seven explained. "I thought it logical to discard it immediately." She paused, raising an eyebrow quizzically. "Can we discard it?"

Janeway considered it. "I think so. I know the ship feels different, but I don't think it would cause this much apprehension." She paused. "You know, this is actually the second time I've felt this way. The last time was just before we encountered that forming nebula. I felt as if something bad was going to happen to my ship and the people I cared about. That's certainly what happened."

"I was blinded," Seven noted uncomfortably. "Others also lost their senses and the ship was damaged."

"Yes. It was as if I knew ahead of time somehow. I have that same, exact feeling now ... it's a disquiet, a formless dread, the sense that something is going to go wrong and we'd better be ready for it."

Seven found it difficult dealing with intangibles. "What do you wish me to do?"

The captain regarded her, surprised. "There's really nothing you can do, darling," she said with great kindness, apparently picking up on her partner's growing unease. "I've been over this in every way I can think of. I even sent Tuvok down to run a sweep of the ship while Ro covers tactical. Either there is actually something causing me to feel this way, or it's completely my imagination. The first, we'll figure out quickly enough. The second..." She trailed off, then flashed a bit of a smile at her partner. "The second means it's time for me to take a year or so away from starship command because situations are starting to control me more than I'm controlling them."

Since taking time off was what Janeway was planning to do in any event ... accepting an administrative position with Starfleet once they returned to the Federation ... there was not much else Seven could contribute to the discussion.

Janeway regarded her closely. "Did you have lunch?" she asked, abruptly changing the subject.

Seven blinked. "No."

The captain shook her head. "I haven't eaten since midmorning, either. Since it's 1715 hours, I think that maybe we should both put something into our stomachs. That might allow us to start thinking more clearly."

"I am already thinking clearly," Seven protested mildly.

"Humor me," Janeway demanded dryly. "And Chakotay. He obviously believes I require some kind of break, and spending some time with you is exactly what I need to calm down." She moved over to the replicator. "Also remind me that the next time we use the slipstream drive, I need to schedule a lot of routine tasks for myself. There's very little for me to do when most of the ship's business has been wrapped up, so it's probably natural that I'm jumping at my own shadow."

Seven didn't know if she necessarily agreed with that, but it was possible that Janeway was, as she said, agitated over nothing. The Borg was aware, however, that whatever Janeway would replicate to eat would probably not be good for her while in this state of mind. The captain would choose something like coffee ice cream or something sugary, which would only temporarily enhance her energy levels without providing proper nutrition.

"Allow me to program the replicator," Seven suggested, as she moved over and forestalled Janeway's attempt to access the pattern buffer. "Perhaps a meal will keep you occupied after all."

Janeway smiled crookedly. "I was hoping you'd ask," she said as she obediently moved away, going over to the low table and clearing it off to provide them a space to eat. "You know, we were supposed to be in Federation space by now. I hope no one was expecting us."

"I am sure that if a ship has been sent to meet us, they will wait," Seven remarked as she programmed in some pasta, a side dish of salad and some warm, crusty bread. "Of course," she added as she carried them over to the table, "it is unlikely we will arrive at the exact coordinates that were initially transmitted to Starfleet. It is obvious that the slipstream drive, paired with this level of sensor capability, does not allow for precise navigation."

"Maybe that's what's really bothering me," Janeway admitted as she dug into her meal. Her sudden appetite let Seven know that her partner was gradually relaxing. The captain generally refused to eat at all when she was truly concerned about something. "It's such a hit and miss proposition using this drive You know, if we do come out in Federation territory, and the transition coil is damaged too much, we'll have to send out a distress signal and wait for a tow." She made a face. "Not exactly how I anticipated our triumphant return to the Federation."

"I do not think anyone would be disappointed, Kathryn."

"I would."

Seven smiled faintly, and ate her salad.

The rest of their meal was consumed quietly, and the Borg realized that they both had needed this break in their duties. The intensity of the preparation and the excitement that permeated the day served to exhaust them much quicker than if this were merely a regular double shift. She glanced over at her spouse, wondering how much of the captain's disturbance had come from sheer nerves and uncertainty about the future. Janeway was not the sort of person to passively accept what happened. She needed to be actively doing something during a crisis ... though this was not really a crisis, merely the ultimate conclusion to years of work, exploration and dedication. It was probably to be expected that the older woman would find herself at somewhat loose ends now that all of it was on the verge of fruition.

"What are you thinking?" Janeway asked quietly.

"Kathryn?"

Janeway smiled at her wryly. "You're looking at me so oddly. Are you worried that all this talk of premonitions and unspecific dread means I'm losing grip of my senses?"

"Not at all," Seven said. She paused. "However, we are both aware that you thrive on being in the center of the action, not on the fringes where you must stand by and let others do what must be done."

Janeway reached over and patted the Borg's knee. "You know me too well," she remarked fondly. "But I wouldn't worry about it, darling. Chances are, before this is all over, I'll have my hands full."

"That's just how it works for Starfleet captains."

Janeway tried not to fidget in her command chair as she made ready to give the order to drop out of the slipstream corridor. Everyone around her was once more on knife's edge, anxiety and excitement permeating the atmosphere of the bridge. Honestly, she had no wish to take too many more trips like this one, she thought. The sheer tension was enough to make her head pound.

"Approaching exit coordinates," Tom Paris remarked.

"Engine room is standing by," Chakotay said in a low, intent voice.

"Shields?" Janeway demanded. They were supposed to be coming out in space close to Earth's solar system, but it remained to be seen if that was actually where the slipstream conduit would deposit them.

"Shields are holding," Tuvok reported. "Weapons on standby. Phasers online, photon torpedoes armed and ready."

Not exactly the prescribed protocol for entering Federation space, but Janeway wasn' about to take any chances, not this close to the end.

"Drop us to impulse, Lt. Paris."

"Aye, Captain. Dropping to impulse."

The viewscreen flickered, showing the slipstream corridor dissipating and the familiar blackness of normal space appearing. It only took a quick glance to determine they weren't where they hoped they would be. None of the constellations were immediately familiar to the captain who knew the ones around Earth's solar system as well as the back of her hand.

"Report," she barked. "Where are we?"

It took a moment. "Bajoran sector," Harry reported, his voice alight with pleasure. No matter how much they had missed their intended target, they were in familiar space and that was worth quite a lot. "Near the Badlands."

Janeway smiled. "Well, it's not quite where we were aiming, but it'll do," she said, as around her, smiles and subdued cheering broke out. "Engine room, report."

"The transition coil received damage, Captain," B'Elanna reported. "As expected, but not as much as we feared. Give us an hour or so, and we'll be able to reinitialize one more time, at least enough to get us the rest of the way home." She paused. "I'd hate to have to be towed in."

Since that was Janeway's thinking, she was more than glad to authorize it.

"Proceed. We'll take a moment to catch our breaths."

She glanced at Chakotay. "Part of me wants to head for Earth, but I think it would be more prudent and a lot safer to make a short jump to the nearest space station," she said in a low tone. "All celebrating aside, this drive is not anything I want to rely on much longer. I want that warp manifold replaced and our traditional method of getting around back online as soon as possible. They'll be able to do that on DS9."

He nodded. "I agree." He smiled suddenly. "We're back."

She returned his smile broadly. "Finally." She lifted her head. "Attention, all hands, we've just arrived in the Bajoran sector. We intend to initialize the slipstream drive once more to carry us to DS9, but for all intents and purposes, we are back in the Federation."

It was impossible to hear the cheering from the other decks, of course, but the captain was sure that was what was happening.

She glanced over her shoulder. "Harry, send a transmission to Starfleet; let them know that we've arrived safely and that we're proceeding to DS9."

"Aye, Captain," he said. He was literally shaking, he was so thrilled at their return, and Janeway was hard-pressed not to laugh. Of course, she didn't blame him at all. She felt like doing a bit of jumping up and down herself at the moment.

She turned to the fore part of the bridge. "Tom, lay in a course for DS9," she said. "Full impulse. As soon it's back online, engage the slipstream drive."

"Aye, Captain, laying in a course," Tom said happily. "Full impulse."

Janeway leaned back in her chair, glancing over at Chakotay. His face was thoughtful and she suspected she knew how he felt. "I suppose it's fitting that we returned to this area of space."

He nodded. "It's hard to believe," he said softly. "After all we've been through, everything we've seen, suddenly, we're back to where it all began." He hesitated, then glanced at her. "Yet, it's all changed. The Maquis are no more, and neither is what we were fighting for."

Janeway dipped her head. She knew about the planets in the demilitarized zone, how they had been taken by the Cardassians and handed over to their allies in the Dominion. They had been used by the Jem'Hadar for training exercises, and even though the planets had been reclaimed by the Federation, there had been nothing left worth saving on them. The colonies, the people ... all had been eradicated, as if they had never existed.

"Captain, long range sensors are detecting a vessel," Tuvok said suddenly.

"Identify," Janeway demanded.

"The warp signature is ... Cardassian."

Janeway hesitated briefly. Her understanding was that the Cardassians, by the end of the war, had turned on their Dominion masters. They had seen too many of their people used as cannon fodder for the Founders, realized almost too late that their only hope at survival was to change sides. Their worlds had been devastated, and in the wake of the conflict, they had lost much of their influence and power in the Alpha Quadrant. However, that did not mean they were exactly stanch allies with the Federation, and she firmed her jaw, her eyes narrowing. She had a ship full of Maquis, and even though the conflict was supposed to be over, there were, undoubtedly, old wounds remaining on both sides. It would not do for her to take this encounter lightly.

"Yellow alert," she snapped, getting to her feet. "Hail them."

There was a brief pause, then the screen flickered to reveal the proud, bony features of a Cardassian Gul. He was probably considered quite a handsome representation of his species, but Janeway always felt a certain twinge in her stomach whenever she came in contact with them ... a leftover memory of times when she had been on the other side of a weapon wielded by a Cardassian soldier. Even after all these years, that sense of danger and antagonism remained for her.

"This is USS Voyager, Captain Kathryn Janeway in command," Janeway said in her best assured and authoritative tone. "May I ask what you're doing in the Bajoran sector?"

"Gul Muran of the Soukara, at your service," the Cardassian replied smoothly. His dark eyes were studying her closely, along with the rest of the bridge. "We detected anomalous readings from this area, and since we were the closest vessel, we requested permission of our Bajoran friends to investigate it." He raised an eyebrow. "I do not believe they're aware that you're in the area, Captain. I'm quite sure they would have mentioned it."

Janeway was grateful that Ro Laren was not currently on the bridge. She could only imagine the woman's response to the silkily provocative way he had mentioned 'Bajoran friends'. In any event, while it was possible that the Cardassians were now weak enough politically that the Bajorans would allow their ships to travel through their space without much objection, she somehow doubted that the Gul had asked for permission to investigate this particular area of space. Or indeed, if he had, she noted that he had specifically avoided mentioning that he had received any authorization ... quite a telling omission, she decided, as old reflexes and habits of dealing with this species started coming back to her.

It also occurred to Janeway that Starfleet would not necessarily want the existence of the slipstream drive to become common knowledge to others, regardless of whose side they currently claimed to be on ... nor did she wish to reveal that Voyager was currently incapable of any faster-than-light power at the moment. If she remembered her Cardassians correctly, any perception of weakness would only grant them leave to try to take advantage of it.

"It was nothing," she said, putting what she hoped was enough assurance in her voice to put an end to it. "Merely a sensor shadow. We checked it out and determined it was harmless."

He stared at her. "How odd. Since our sensors are detecting the anomalous readings are emanating from your vessel, Captain." He frowned, his dark eyes running over her form. "May I ask when Starfleet resumed wearing the former version of uniform?"

Janeway cursed silently, though she didn't allow her face to alter from its mask of command. She had meant to have Voyager's crew switch over to the current issue of uniforms, but it had slipped her mind in all the preparation for their return. The trouble was, she really didn't know how to come up with an explanation that would not include by necessity, why and how they had turned up in this particular area of space.

Apparently she had paused too long. He leaned forward. "Captain, I'm beginning to wonder if perhaps I have not come across some kind of temporal anomaly. Or worse, perhaps some attempt on your part to disguise yourselves as Starfleet officers when in fact, you are not Starfleet at all. Would it interest you to know that our records have no USS Voyager listed in the Federation's active registry."

Well, this is just becoming more and more complicated, she thought. It was time to stop it before it went much further.

"Gul Muran, I assure you, Voyager is a Starfleet vessel, and we are Starfleet officers. It's your database that is outdated, and if you send a message immediately to Starfleet, they'll be more than glad to verify our presence here. The rest of it, however, is not anything I am prepared to explain at the moment. I'm afraid you'll have to be content with that."

A ridged brow drew down. "I am afraid, Captain, that I cannot. I think that it would be best if you lowered your shields and allowed a party of my officers to board your ship, just to inspect things for ourselves."

"That's not going to happen," she said flatly, crossing her arms over her chest. "Any attempt to board us will be met with extreme force, is that understood?" She paused, then tried for a more conciliatory tone. "Gul Muran, put quite simply, this involves Federation matters which do not concern you or Cardassia in any way. Any attempt to interfere with our presence here would be inadvisable."

He stared at her, and she hoped he would be smart enough to read the determination in her face, and weigh it against what he suspected. In fact, he did not have enough to justify his suspicions, and the truth was so incredible, he would never be able to guess it. That put him on very shaky ground and she suspected ... she hoped ... it would be enough to make him step carefully.

"I shall be reporting this to my superiors," he said finally, and she felt a certain sort of relief flood her. It was also quite significant, however, and she realized how much things had changed if he was backing down so easily. There was a time when a Cardassian Gul commanding a ship of that size would have insisted on the boarding party, and there would have been an exchange of weapons fire to resolve the dispute. "Rest assured, I will be sending a message to Starfleet."

"A wise decision," Janeway said. "Unfortunately, my mission prevents me from waiting for them to respond. I have work to do. Good day, Gul Muran."

Harry obligingly cut the channel, and she took a step forward. "Full impulse, Mr. Paris," she said tersely. She glanced back at Tuvok.

"What about our 'friends'?"

"The Soukara has fallen into position to port," he replied. "They are pacing us." He touched a few more controls. "They're running continual sensor sweeps of our vessel, and our communications array."

"Wonderful," she said. "I'm sure they're going to start to wonder why we haven't gone to warp by now." She lifted her head. "Engine room, status. We need that transition coil online as soon as possible."

"Understood, Captain," B'Elanna responded, her voice tense. Obviously she had been informed about what had been going on, undoubtedly by Tuvok or Harry. "We're working on it."

"Let me know as soon as we have slipstream capability," she said, closing the channel. She paused, thinking. "Tom, alter course, take us into the Badlands."

"Captain?" Chakotay had risen from his chair, looking at her quizzically.

She shot a hard gaze back at him. "We need a reason for being here, and for not going to warp. Besides, I don't want to give them a front row seat to witness us using the drive."

"Captain, the Soukara is hailing us again." Harry looked faintly disarrayed, a lock of dark hair falling over his forehead.

"I expected as much," she responded. "On screen."

"Captain Janeway," Muran said, his face appearing once more. "Is your ship experiencing difficulty? We've detected an alteration in course into what is known to be a very hazardous area of space."

"Not at all," she replied smoothly. She paused, as if thinking hard. "Gul Muran, I can tell you that Federation and Bajoran scientists are very interested in the effects of the plasma storms in the Badlands. I'm sure Starfleet would not object if you wish to observe that much of our mission."

She wished she didn't have to make this up as she went along, but she was starting to think that she could probably make this work. By this time, he was looking completely baffled, which could only be to her benefit. Unless Muran was more clear on what exactly was going on here, he wouldn't try anything against Voyager. Cardassians perfered to strike from a position of strength, not when they were uncertain as to what was going on.

"Captain, if you'll excuse the possibly offensive implication," he said carefully. "You're acting very oddly."

"Not at all," she responded cheerfully, actually starting to enjoy herself a bit. "You just don't have all the facts and unfortunately, I'm not at liberty to share them with you. Now if you'll excuse me, Gul Muran, we really must get back to our mission."

Again, Harry took his cue to cut the channel and Janeway put her hand on Tom's shoulder. "Lieutenant, I once told you that Voyager was designed precisely for just this sort of flying," she said quietly. "Impulse is all any ship can do in the Badlands, and I'm betting that even after seven years, this ship is far better at dancing around in there than that Cardassian scow."

Tom smiled. "Not a problem, Captain," he said confidently. "How soon do you want me to lose them?"

"That's up to them. Let's see how far they're willing to take their ship into those plasma storms. When I give the word, leave them behind."

"Aye, Captain. Entering the Badlands."

She gave him a final pat and returned to her command chair, sitting down. She looked over at her first officer. "I had forgotten how difficult Cardassians could be to deal with," she said ruefully. "Of course, it didn't help that I had to make things up as I went along."

"We're not exactly in a good position," he agreed. "I'm positive Starfleet would not want us explaining how we got here ... or exactly where we came from."

"We'll just have to hope that Muran does believe it's some kind of scientific mission. The Cardassians always found those boring. However, since we don't dare send a message to Starfleet, apprising them of our situation as long as the Soukara is monitoring our transmissions, we'll just have to play it out."

She stared back at the viewscreen, at the orange and red glow of plasma and gasses they were entering, aware of the surging ripples and currents of the Bajoran Badlands that awaited her vessel.

"The Soukara is following, Captain," Tuvok reported.

Janeway smiled ferally. "Fine," she said. "Let's see how they enjoy the trip, particularly since Voyager is the very best at going where no one has gone before." Captain Jean Luc Picard sat in his command chair, frowning as he stared at the starfield on the viewscreen. The USS Enterprise had been at station-keeping, just outside Earth's solar system, for several hours, having been dispatched to greet USS Voyager. The Intrepid-class vessel was supposed to have arrived at these coordinates at 1700 hours. Starfleet wasn't the sort for brass bands and big productions, but after seven long years, they did deem it fitting that the flagship of the 'Fleet should be the first to greet the lost vessel and escort her into port. The fact that Picard had personally requested the assignment may have come as a surprise to certain of the brass, but they were quick to take advantage of his offer, rescheduling missions and other ships to make the Enterprise available. They had even sent along an admiral's assistant, a Commander Michael Patterson, to represent Starfleet Command in the first meeting with their stray starship.

However, 1700 hours had come and gone and there was still no word about what might be causing the delay. Granted, it was an experimental drive that Voyager was utilizing, and it was entirely possible that it was slower than the projections of the Theoretical Propulsion Group, but the captain was beginning to wonder a bit.

And worry.

He had his own reasons for requesting this assignment, not the least of which was to come in contact with Ro Laren again. There was a plan that needed to be set in motion and the sooner it happened, the better.

Picard wasn't exactly sure when he had become aware of Section 31, and the danger they posed to Starfleet, the Federation and all he believed in. Perhaps he had his first inkling when he had found himself in a situation where he had to go against Starfleet Command to protect a people being exploited by an alien race. He had initially been forced into an alliance with the Son'a, an alien species who had a profoundly disturbing record in violating the rights of sentient beings, at the orders of Admiral Matthew Dougherty. When Picard discovered that the only reason Starfleet was supporting the attempt to subdue the Ba'ku homeworld was that it was bombarded with metaphasic particles which somehow reversed the aging process in many Humanoids ... that it held something of value to certain influential members of the Federation ... then he knew something was seriously wrong with the organization he had spent the better part of his life serving.

The convictions he had grown up with, the ideals he had sworn to uphold and protect, were being eroded from within somehow, and he was determined to discover the cause of the cancer growing in Starfleet. Shortly thereafter, he was contacted by Miles O'Brien and Commander Worf, both former members of his crew, and both serving on Deep Space 9. They revealed startling and disturbing information about something called Section 31, a covert operations group within Starfleet Intelligence that was sworn to protect the Federation from outside influences ... even if it meant violating everything the Federation stood for in the process.

Part of that was preparing for the Borg, and when news came down that Voyager was returning with a crewmember who had not only spent most of her life as a Borg, but had been very close to the queen and the Collective's central command in some way, word had filtered through that Section 31 was determined to get their hands on her. Picard thought this was something he could use in some way. Discovering that Ro Laren was on board Voyager, rather than killed in the sweep the Jem'Hadar had made of the Maquis, offered him the perfect wildcard ... so wild, even he didn't know what she was capable of. He contacted her and transmitted a covert message within a message. If she had developed into the sort of officer he hoped, she would uncover it and things would progress from there.

"Commander Data, any update on Voyager's status?" he asked. He knew that if there had been, the golden-skinned android would have informed him immediately, but he still felt the need to ask, particularly since nothing else was going on. He wasn't sure how long the Enterprise could maintain their position here before Starfleet ordered them back to their regular patrol.

"None, Captain," Data responded.

"Let me know the instant we have any contact."

He was aware of his first officer, Will Riker, looking at him from his right, obviously surprised at this hint of disquiet from the composed, refined captain. It was more in the larger man's nature to show such impatience, not Picard.

"Concerned, Captain?"

"It is an experimental drive that Voyager is using, Number One," the captain responded in a low voice.

Riker studied him. "Yes, they are. But I don't think that's it. There's something more than that going on here."

Picard had not informed his first officer of the plans he was putting into place, not because he didn't trust him, but because it could endanger anyone who knew if he was correct in his supposition. By limiting the knowledge to himself and Guinan for now, then Section 31 was less likely to find out they had been discovered. He had come to believe that illicit organization was more than capable of arranging an 'accident' for even a Sovereign-class vessel once they considered themselves threatened, regardless of whether it was the flagship or not. The incident with Admiral Dougherty and the Son'a was proof of that.

He forced a smile. "Perhaps you're not aware of who's on Voyager."

Riker raised an eyebrow. "I know Janeway," he admitted. "We met at the Academy. Chakotay and I worked together in our younger days on the Vladimir, but not closely. I don't know much about the rest of the crew. A lot of them were Maquis, weren't they?"

"One of them is Ro Laren."

He had shocked Riker, he saw, and it was obvious that the first officer had not gone over the lower ranks of Voyager's crew manifest ... but then, why would he? This was merely an escort mission, and while it was significant in that they were able to bring one of their own home, there was no reason for Riker to become familiar with the entire story beyond how and when they were lost years ago. The Commander had enough on his hands with a crew of almost eight hundred, and it was enough that he familiarized himself with Voyager's senior officers.

Picard supposed it was somewhat unfair of him to have waited to spring the news of Ro's presence on the younger man ... but then, he would have been denied that expression on Riker's face had he shared his information any sooner.

The door to the bridge slid open and both Picard and Riker looked up to see Counselor Deanna Troi enter the bridge. She smiled as she descended the slight step to the command level, but it faded when she saw Riker's face.

"What's wrong?" she asked as she took a seat to Picard's left.

"Did you know that Ro Laren is on Voyager?" Riker blurted in a low tone.

Troi nodded. "Yes. I encountered Voyager's CMO not very long ago and he informed me that she was onboard his ship, though we really didn't touch on the details. I knew how disturbed the captain was when the Jem'Hadar staged their raids on the Maquis strongholds, concerned that Ro had been caught in them, so I told him the good news immediately." She paused. "The captain already knew, however."

"Ro's apparently done quite well," Picard said blandly. "She was even reinstated as a Starfleet officer by Captain Janeway ... she's a senior lieutenant now."

"You didn't object?" Riker asked. His tone was even, but he was watching Picard closely. He obviously remembered his captain's disappointment those years ago when Ro had stayed with the Maquis.

Picard raised a brow. "Not at all, Number One. Indeed, it was my recommendation that Starfleet uphold Janeway's reinstatement of her. Ro's a fine officer and I respect that she had to make a difficult decision all those years ago." He paused. "I even offered Ro her helm position on the Enterprise when I spoke with her."

Riker blinked. "You spoke with her?"

"Yes," Picard revealed. "When I was on Earth for the archaeology symposium, Admiral Paris contacted me. It so happened that they were attempting a live feed to Voyager and he wondered if I wished to say anything to anyone on board, providing me with a crew manifest. That was when I first discovered she was on board."

The first officer looked troubled. "You're only telling me this now, sir?"

Picard affected a bit of a shrug. "Unless Voyager returns, Number One, it's really quite irrelevant who's on board," he said casually. "But when they return, I have every intention of acquiring some much needed personnel. Ro Laren, with seven more years of seasoning on a Starfleet vessel, will be a most welcome addition to our crew."

Riker nodded slowly. He knew as well as anyone how much the war had decimated Starfleet, and while the Enterprise inevitably got first pick of the best officers, even the flagship was running thin in certain positions. The helm was one of them, and there weren't a lot of competent helmsmen out there, particularly those that could quickly learn to fly the new Sovereign-class vessels.

"In fact, once I discovered that Voyager is going to be dry-docked for upgrading, I decided to actively pursue their helmsmen," Picard added. "Of course, I won't be able to recruit them all, but if I can secure Ro and Admiral Paris's son, Tom, I'll be satisfied. His flight rating is outstanding."

"Does Janeway know we're already circling?" Riker asked dryly. "She can't be too pleased."

"No," Picard said, thinking of the dynamic woman he had met only a few times. "I don't imagine that she is. However, she's undoubtedly been in Starfleet long enough to know that in times like this, a captain does what they have to in order to form a competent crew." He inhaled slowly. "Frankly, I'm surprised that I've been able to keep my own command staff intact for as long as I have."

Riker smiled. "Honestly, Captain," he pointed out, "what could any other ship offer us? We're already with the flagship, and if command was what any of us were pursuing, we could have had it at any time during the war. We know when we're in a winning situation."

Picard was pleased but didn't quite know how to show it. He contented himself with dipping his head in acknowledgment. Glancing toward Data, he wondered if the android had been eavesdropping on the conversation, but decided that it would be best not to test that theory. He also managed to restrain himself from asking if there was any news and was rewarded for his discipline when the operations officer turned.

"Captain, Starfleet has just contacted us," the android reported. "The slipstream drive is apparently not as precise as warp propulsion, particularly when it comes to navigation. Voyager has appeared in the Bajoran sector and is on its way to DS9."

Relaxing, Riker leaned back in his chair.

"So much for escort duty," he said dryly. "I don't think we should sign up for that drive, Captain. Not when a vessel tends to miss its intended coordinates so badly."

Picard didn't look at him. "Helm, set a course for DS9. Warp eight."

"Captain?" The first officer was staring at him, confused.

The captain glanced over at him. "I have no intention of allowing some other ship to recruit those helmsmen, Number One. I'm sure there's nothing else pressing that requires us to stay around Earth at the moment."

It was obvious that Riker wanted to object but he didn't. However, there was an expression in his dark eyes that Picard knew well.

Before long, he would have to bring his first officer in on what his plans were ... before Riker found out about them on his own. Seven of Nine stepped onto the bridge, aware of the keen edge of tension and the wash of amber that denoted a yellow alert. The captain glanced back at her, but didn't speak, immediately resuming her concentration on the fore viewscreen displaying the roiling orange and gold of plasma storms which frequented this region of space. Seven had never seen anything like it and she studied it intently, though she was aware that for others on the bridge, this was familiar territory. This was the area where the Maquis ship commanded by Chakotay had fled a Cardassian battle cruiser, and it was here that Voyager had come to retrieve its security officer who had infiltrated that Maquis band. An entity known as the Caretaker had swept up both vessels and brought them to his array in the Delta Quadrant. Seven years later, they had finally returned to where it had all began.

"Where's the Soukara now?" Janeway demanded.

"The Cardassian vessel trails off our starboard stern at 563 kilometers," Tuvok reported.

Seven took the opportunity to deliver her report. "The transition coil is primed and ready to activate the slipstream drive on your command. However, it is highly unlikely it will function beyond this one activation. A short journey is all that is possible."

She saw the captain smile and it was not a particularly pleasant smile, more lips drawn back in anticipation than any indication of mirth or humor.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Janeway replied shortly. "Harry, hail the Soukara. Ask them if they're experiencing any difficulty?"

There was a pause, then Harry looked up from his console. "Soukara reports no damage but advises again that this area of space is quite dangerous."

Janeway's smile widened, showing her teeth. "Inform them that the currents are quite tricky but that we intend to study them." She leaned forward a little. "Tom, make it look as if we've just been caught in an eddy. It's time to lose our companions."

"Understood, Captain," Tom remarked, and there was a sort of lilt to his tone, an obvious indication that he was enjoying himself.

As was the captain, and Seven wondered what it was she was missing, since she found the whole thing annoying rather than exciting. There was a jolt as Voyager was abruptly pushed sideways, and a quick scan by Seven of her auxiliary tactical station revealed that it was a result of port thrusters abruptly firing, rather than any external force. To the following Cardassian vessel, however, it must have appeared as if the Federation ship had been caught by an eddy, and when Voyager suddenly shot forward, the trailing vessel was caught completely unprepared.

"Go, Tom," Janeway encouraged, the acceleration so strong that it was felt even through the inertial dampeners.

Seven's eyes widened as she realized Paris had called for full impulse, and the deck canted beneath her feet as the helmsman proceeded to throw the vessel into a series of complicated maneuvers, dancing about the energy discharges and swirling plasma vortexes that surrounded them, speeding deeper into the Badlands.

"The Soukara has broken off pursuit," Tuvok reported. "It's retreating to the edge of the Badlands."

The captain gave a little nod of satisfaction. "Good work, Tom," she said. "Now take us well out of their sensor range, and once we're clear of the worst of the plasma storms near the fringes, activate the slipstream drive."

Seven frowned. She wasn't sure what would happen if the drive was activated this close to such massive discharges of energy.

"Captain," she offered. "It would be advisable to be well clear of all the Badlands before initiating the drive. It is unknown how a slipstream corridor would work in proximity to such an area."

Janeway glanced at her. "I understand," she said mildly. "However, I suspect that the Soukara is going to be hanging about, waiting to detect those anomalous readings again. I want to use the interference on the fringes to mask our departure." She paused. "Is there any reason we can't activate the drive near the Badlands?"

Seven considered it. "It is still experimental. Many things are unknown."

"What will happen if we use the drive in close proximity to the plasma storms?" Janeway insisted.

Pinned down, Seven lowered her head. "I do not know. However, I do not know if it will work properly either."

Janeway lifted her eyebrow. "It's been a risk from the beginning, Lieutenant. What's one more on this day?"

"One too many?" Seven suggested evenly.

Chakotay chewed on his bottom lip, obviously listening to this and wanting to laugh at that last, but not daring to. Janeway shot her astrometrics officer an arch look, and turned to the front.

"Your concern is noted, Lt. Seven," Janeway said in a bland tone.

The young woman discovered she was grinding her teeth as she recognized the inflection in the captain's voice, aware that her partner was going to ignore the Borg's suggestion about clearing the Badlands before activating the drive. It wasn't the first time a suggestion of Seven's had been ignored, nor did she suspect it would be the last, but it still rankled as much now as it had when she had first arrived on Voyager. The difference was, now she remained silent and accepted the captain's decision, whereas before she would have actively done something to prevent Janeway from activating the drive ... an act of disobedience that would have resulted in her spending several days isolated in the cargo bay.

"Sensors are detecting a clear area up ahead," Tom reported not long afterward, his tone vaguely puzzled. "But it's not the outskirts of the Badlands."

"It's the Eye," Chakotay offered suddenly, with a certain amount of anticipation. "It's an area of calm in the middle of the storm surges. The Maquis used it as a place to rendezvous while hiding out in the Badlands." He turned to look at Janeway, his gaze intent. "Captain, since the slipstream drive uses a corridor to travel, we could bypass the storms altogether and launch from this area rather than wait until we reach the fringes."

"Sounds exactly like what we're looking for," Janeway said with satisfaction. "Bridge to engineering. Prepare to activate slipstream drive on my mark."

"Aye, Captain," came B'Elanna's response.

Her voice was breezy, almost as if the Klingon was so familiar with using the drive, she had no concerns about anything the captain might ask of it. Seven, however, was uncomfortably aware of how hard she and the Klingon had worked to reinitialize the transition coil. She didn't think B'Elanna should be so complacent about what would probably be the last bit of use they would manage from that particular piece of equipment.

"Course to DS9 laid in," Tom announced. "We'll exit the corridor well out of their sensor range in an area normally devoid of traffic patterns. It should take about ten hours to cruise the rest of the way in on impulse."

"Engineering?" Janeway said.

"Slipstream drive activated," B'Elanna returned, jumping ahead of the captain's command. Janeway didn't protest.

"Slipstream corridor is forming."

"All ahead full," Janeway ordered. "Engage."

Seven barely had time to comprehend the readings crossing her console, and less time to utter a warning.

"The corridor is reacting to the plasma levels," she said, her voice rising in a modulated scream to be heard over the howl from the drive that rose around them. "Too much power is being diverted through the manifold."

The bridge crew were pressed back as the sudden burst of acceleration, too great for the inertial dampeners to fully compensate for, booted Voyager forward, the ship vibrating with disturbing violence. At the helm, Tom strained to touch his board, his fingers slamming onto the touch pad.

"Coordinates reached," he yelled. "Dropping out of slipstream."

The viewscreen cleared to show the huge structure of DS9 looming before them and a Federation Chimera-class starship that lurched desperately to starboard at Voyager's abrupt appearance. Proximity alarms shrieked, and Voyager tilted almost ninety degrees as Tom recklessly threw it into a sharp turn to port, narrowly missing a Klingon cruiser and an arching pylon which rose from the circular structure occupying the space around them. Swooping over the space station's central command module, crewmembers were throw to the side as gravitational forces that no starship should be imposing on itself, stressed the gleaming hull of the Intrepid-class vessel. A variety of space-suited personnel, shuttles and worker bees scattered for their existence as Voyager screamed through the opening between the rings of the station, slewing sideways at the last instant to avoid a freighter that had just left its docking berth.

For a few terrifying seconds, the solid wall of the station's outer ring barred their way before somehow, Tom was able to bring the nose down and the starship plunged beneath it, so close that anything larger than two meters caught between Voyager's upper saucer section and the bottom of DS9's docking ring would have been completely torn away. A large, gold-colored vessel shot off to starboard, aborting its approach to the station, and stars yawned wildly across the viewscreen. Then suddenly, Voyager was clear of the station traffic and back into empty space, leaving what had to be utter terror and consternation in their wake.

"All stop," Chakotay yelped from his chair. Both he and the captain had managed to retain their position for the entire ride, and Seven was grateful that for once, her partner had been sitting down, rather than stalking about the bridge as was her habit.

"All stop," Tom replied as he killed the impulse engines, and used thrusters to turn the ship until it was facing the space station it had just buzzed.

The faces of Chakotay and Janeway were set in impassive masks of stone, and the captain's knuckles were white where she grasped the arms of her command chair. Seven needed a few seconds to draw breath, realizing only after the fact that she must have forgotten how during the entirety of Voyager's arrival at DS9. With an effort, she released her grip which had kept her on her feet when everyone else had been tossed around, noting the deep and distinct indentations in the rail where her left hand had been fastened. Around her, the rest of the crew was staggering back to their posts. Harry, his hair falling wildly over his forehead, hunched over the operations console, favoring his left side, while Tuvok, still standing at tactical, had been wounded, a small line of green blood trickling from his temple.

"Mr. Paris," Janeway said mildly into the silent aftermath. "Those were not the coordinates I requested."

"No, ma'am," Tom replied, his voice shaky. "The plasma discharge gave us a bit more acceleration than the helm could compensate for."

Janeway took a long, slow, deep breath and carefully pried her fingers off her command chair. "It appears your concerns were justified, Lieutenant," she said, without looking back at Seven. The Borg knew that was as much an apology for disregarding her warning as she would receive from the captain. Sometimes, it was very difficult being involved with a starship commander.

"Yes, Captain."

"Damage report," Janeway demanded. "Did we hit anything?" She winced. "Or anyone?"

"There is a small hull breach on deck eight," Tuvok reported, ignoring the blood coagulating on his cheek. "A result of a stress fracture. Sensors report no impact with any external obstacle. Minor injuries are reported on decks four through ten."

"Engineering reports that the transition coil has been completely destroyed from the plasma overload," Seven said, amazed at how calm her voice was. "Slipstream drive is offline. No injuries."

"Captain," Harry offered, "DS9 is hailing us. Colonel Kira Nerys, the station commander, demands to speak with you immediately. So do the captains of the USS Portland, the UFP Xhosa, the FMA Total Acquisition and the IKV Korrd."

"Yes, Mr. Kim," Janeway said quietly. "I imagine they want to speak to us very badly." She paused, glancing at Chakotay. "Undoubtedly, those are the ships we narrowly avoided colliding with."

"Undoubtedly," he agreed in an equally deadpan tone. He took a breath. "That was damned good flying, Paris."

Tom glanced back. "Yes, sir," he said, in a subdued tone. "Thank you, sir."

Janeway stood up and absently straightened her tunic, then raked her fingers through her disarrayed hair. "Put Colonel Kira through, Mr. Kim," she instructed calmly. "On screen."

The screen flickered to show the slender, imposing form of a Bajoran woman, her silver earring dangling from her right ear. Seven recognized her immediately, though she did note the alteration of collar insignia since the last time she had seen her. The woman had only been a major two years ago.

"What the hell did you think you were doing?" Colonel Kira Nerys said between teeth clenched so tight it was amazing they weren't splintering from her jaws. Her hair stuck up in places, as if she had been hauled out of a deep sleep ... which, noting the time, Seven thought was probable ... and the dark eyes were throwing furious sparks. If it were possible to reach through the viewscreen and grab Janeway by the throat to shake her, Seven suspected the Bajoran would be doing just that.

Janeway waited for a moment, not rushing to reply, taking a deliberate breath before speaking.

"I'm Captain Kathryn Janeway of USS Voyager," she said in a reasonable, very rational tone, as if their arrival had been just like any other. "I must apologize for the way we approached your station, but I'm afraid we were dealing with a minor malfunction in our propulsion system. It's completely offline, and we'd like to request a docking berth."

Whatever the good colonel had been expecting, it certainly hadn't been this. Kira looked as if she had been struck by an implement of some kind. Not for the first time, Seven was vastly impressed by her partner's innate ability to defuse a potentially explosive situation with just her demeanor and presence.

"Voyager," the rusty-haired Bajoran repeated blankly, staring at the captain as if she had just grown another head. "The ship lost in the Delta Quadrant?"

"Yes," Janeway explained evenly. "We departed this station approximately seven years ago for the Badlands." She paused. "We're back."

Kira took several deep breaths, obviously putting a rein on her temper. "We just received word from Starfleet that you were on your way here." Her dark eyes raked the bridge. "They didn't mention that you'd be undetectable to our sensors, or coming in on a vector which would nearly destroy four ships and part of our docking ring."

Janeway displayed a regretful expression, a proper combination of ruefulness and dry humor. "Again, I apologize," she said smoothly. "An unfortunate miscalculation in our navigational array skewed our approach vector. However, this is an experimental drive we're working with and not all the ... 'bugs' have been worked out."

A drive that half the quadrant would know about before too long, Seven thought sardonically. If it had been the intention of Starfleet and the captain to be discrete about their return, they had failed in a most spectacular fashion. Of course, the fact that it also appeared to be quite an unstable way to travel could lower the interest level considerably. Obviously, there was still a lot of work needed on the slipstream unit before it would be a useful alternative to warp drive.

In the meantime, however, it had done the job and no one was complaining ... except perhaps the ships Voyager had barely missed while dropping out of the slipstream corridor.

"Captain, I could continue this conversation for quite awhile, but I'm not sure it would do any good," Kira said finally, obviously stifling a sigh. "I'll take your word that this was unintentional, and fortunately, there were no major injuries, beyond a lot of screaming and objections from our local traffic. However, you can expect several complaints to be made to Starfleet regarding this incident." She looked directly at the Starfleet captain. "One of those ships you barely missed is Ferengi. You can count on there being a demand for considerable monetary reparations."

Janeway didn't flinch exactly, but Seven saw a muscle jump in her jaw.

"Understood," she said in a meek tone, completely unlike her normal way of speaking.

Kira stared at her a bit longer, then shook her head. "You are cleared for docking at lower pylon three, Captain. Do you think you can manage it without knocking it from its mount?"

"We'll do our best, Colonel," the captain said, her voice cooling perceptibly. Obviously she didn't appreciate the needling, but Seven had enough life experience to know that Janeway could probably expect more of it, particularly from the captains of other Starfleet vessels docked at the station.

It had been a very dramatic arrival at Deep Space 9.

There might have been a touch of a smile at the corner of Kira's mouth before the screen shifted to show the space station hanging magnificently against the backdrop of stars. Seven was aware that there was a wormhole not too far away, her board easily detecting the readings that indicated its presence, but it wasn't visible at the moment. It only opened in a spectacular swirl of light and energy when a vessel was entering or departing the spatial shortcut between the Alpha and Gamma Quadrants.

Janeway dropped her hand on Tom's shoulder. "Take us in, Mr. Paris," she instructed. "Carefully."

"Aye, Captain."

Janeway turned back to the rest of the bridge, glancing over her command crew. "Tuvok, you should have that looked at," she said, eyeing his wound. Her glance passed over Seven, assessing her posture and determining that she was fine, before moving on to Harry. "Mr. Kim, prepare the necessary protocols for disembarking procedures," she instructed, as the young man was now standing up straight. Apparently, he had thrown off the blow to his ribs. "Also make a request for repairs, including the full replacement of a warp manifold unit."

"Yes, ma'am," he said crisply. He plunged into his work with a passion, clearly enjoying the chance to interact with familiar procedures again. Though the station was Bajoran, it was operated in accordance with the Federation, and many of the personnel were Starfleet officers.

Janeway smiled at his enthusiasm and regarded Chakotay. "Secure the vessel, Commander. I think I better go station-side and make some further apologies ... in person this time. I also need to speak with Neelix about what we have in ship's stores that might work to our favor." She tilted her head, a smile playing about her lips.

"We really did make a hell of an entrance, though, didn't we?" she added, with a sort of smug satisfaction.

Seven barely managed to stifle an exasperated sigh. "That was quite a spectacular arrival, Captain," Colonel Kira Nerys noted dryly.

"Thank you," Janeway said, raking her fingers through her hair, aware that it remained a little awry. "After seven years, it seemed fitting."

"I doubt the Portland thinks so," the Bajoran said, leaning back in her chair. "You almost took off her port nacelle."

Janeway managed not to blush. "These things happen," she mumbled.

She had met with the captain of the Chimera-class vessel earlier, and had been astounded to find that the captain, Lillian Preston, was barely Tom Paris's age. Not too impressed with the Janeway credentials either, if her attitude was any indication, asking snidely if perhaps Voyager's crew had forgotten how to pilot a starship while wandering around the Delta Quadrant. Janeway didn't know what she was more disquieted by, the fact that their return wasn't all that impressive to the Starfleet captain fresh from the war, or seeing first hand how young the ranking officers now were. Indeed, Captain Preston had been the oldest officer Janeway had met on the frigate.

Dealing with the Klingon, the Ferengi, and the civilian ship commanders had actually been easier, old diplomatic habits returning and allowing Janeway to smooth the ruffled feathers of captains who had been scared witless at Voyager's near miss with their ships. She had even managed to convince the Total Acquisition's DaiMon to accept an offering of Delta Quadrant delicacies from Neelix's private stock. Of course, the Ferengi had gotten the better part of the deal ... those delicacies were the only ones of their kind in the Alpha Quadrant, but Janeway considered it cargo well spent to prevent having a bill sent to Starfleet Command. The Klingon had been assuaged by venting some simple, verbal outrage over a mug of blood wine, which currently resided uncomfortably in Janeway's stomach . Meanwhile, the civilian captain was content with a case of wine, and her most sincere apology. Kira was the last party Janeway needed to placate before returning to her vessel and, hopefully, a nice, warm bed.

It didn't occur to her that she was still reacting as if she were in the Delta Quadrant, wheeling and dealing with others she came in contact with in order to smooth Voyager's passage ... or that it was Starfleet Command's place to make any reparations required for the actions of one of its vessels, not Janeway's.

The captain noticed a white ball sitting on a small cup on the desk. If her memory served, it was the same baseball that had graced the office of Benjamin Sisko, Kira's predecessor as commander of the station. Aside from that odd little adornment, the rest of the office was straightforward and unpretentious ... much like the Bajoran in the chair.

"I was sorry to hear about the death of Comm-- Captain Sisko," Janeway offered. "He was a fine man, and an exemplary officer."

"He's with the Prophets," Kira said simply, and with what seemed complete certainty. Janeway had the distinct impression that the woman absolutely believed what she was saying, and she felt a flash of envy for that depth of faith. She didn't think there was anything that she had that much belief in ... except perhaps her love for her partner, and her ability to command. Possibly in Starfleet itself, but for something ethereal? No, that was not her way.

It also occurred to her, as she sat across from this formidable Bajoran woman, that Ro Laren had never spoken of the Prophets with this same sense of comfort, as if they were a part of the fabric of her life, as necessary as breathing and as unremarkable as air. In fact, when Janeway thought about it further, she realized that Ro had never spoken of the Prophets at all. She wondered if she dared ask her about it.

"Captain?"

Startled, Janeway looked up, realizing she had gotten lost in her thoughts. "My apologies, Colonel. It's been a very long day."

Kira dipped her head. "I suspect you're working on your second day by now. I appreciate you're coming here personally to apologize, Captain, but it wasn't necessary. I accept you had little choice in your approach vector." She smiled faintly. "If you'll excuse me saying so, you look exhausted. Rest assured that our engineers are ready to begin replacing your warp manifold. We won't hold you here any longer than necessary." She paused, the added delicately, "I understand that certain of what we're working with has been classified by the Federation. I'll make sure that only Starfleet personnel are assigned to the repair teams."

"Thank you," Janeway said gratefully. She was so tired that she had forgotten to specify that in her request. "But it won't be necessary. We'll have everything removed before your teams need to come on board."

Kira lifted her head. "It must be quite the unit if it brought you all the way from the Delta Quadrant."

Janeway stared at her, wondering if the Bajoran was fishing. Of course, if the slipstream drive was viable, Federation vessels would no longer need any kind of shortcuts to reach another quadrant ... like wormholes. It could mean that the prestige and influence, as well as the financial rewards of increased traffic the Gamma Quadrant wormhole had brought to Bajor would fade away.

"It'll be quite a few years before it's worth using such a drive," Janeway assured her. "As you can tell, it's not very accurate. Our original exit coordinates were supposed to take us to Earth."

Kira smiled. "You missed."

"By several sectors," Janeway agreed. "I'll be glad to have Voyager's warp engines back online. When something goes wrong with them, at least we know where we are."

"We'll have you mobile as soon as possible," Kira promised.

Janeway lifted her head. "Thank you. Before I head back to my ship, however, I need to give you something, Colonel, and also convey my personal gratitude."

Kira looked blank. "Yes?"

"A few years ago, three of my crewmembers arrived on your station," Janeway reminded her, reaching down to pick up a parcel which had been sitting on the deck next to her feet. "You could have made it very complicated for them to return to us, but you didn't." She pushed the parcel across the desk. "My first officer wished me to give this to you as soon as possible. He told me he had promised to return it the second Voyager returned to the Alpha Quadrant. I have him busy securing our ship at the moment, but I told him I'd bring it to you."

The Bajoran's hands shook as she unwrapped the cloth bundled around the artifact.

"I can't believe you just carried an Orb of the Prophets through the station, and no one noticed," Kira said, her voice reverent and hushed.

Janeway swallowed, realizing suddenly that she might have inadvertently caused offense.

"Uh, we thought it would be better to do this as unobtrusively as possible," she said apologetically. "My understanding was that the knowledge of its existence was to be kept quiet."

"That was probably a good idea," Kira agreed absently as she stared at it, her dark eyes aglow. Slowly they rose to meet Janeway's. "Thank you, Captain, for returning this to us."

"I could do no less," Janeway said honestly. "This brought back to me a person who means more than my own life."

Kira frowned briefly, then nodded. "Seven of Nine. She mentioned that you and she were involved when I was ... interrogating her."

"We're married now."

"Ah," Kira said, as if that explained everything. She smiled. "I don't mean to be unduly mystical, Captain Janeway, but perhaps that was its purpose all along."

Janeway didn't quite know what to say to that. "Perhaps."

"Seven was a formidable challenge, you know," Kira noted, half amused. "I grilled her for a week, and she didn't give me a thing."

"Indeed," Janeway said, and this time, her tone had cooled perceptively, belatedly reacting to what the Bajoran was implying. "Seven tells me you thought they were spies."

"What would you have thought in my place?"

Janeway started to respond, hesitated, and dipped her head. She was tired, and it wouldn't be prudent to be trading quips with this woman. It could only get her into trouble.

"Perhaps the same." Janeway took a breath and stood up. "On that note, I believe it's time for me to return to my ship."

Kira stood as well, resting one of her hands casually on the orb. "Of course, Captain. Get some rest."

Janeway took her leave, lost in thought as the lift carried her down to the main habitat ring where she strolled briskly toward the outer docking ring. Walking along the Promenade, she was surrounded by the familiar babble of various species she had known for most of her life, as if her time in the Delta Quadrant was already fading into the mists of memory and the past. Her senses greedily drank in the profusion of sights, sounds and smells of a Federation space station, and her heart seemed to sing every time her eye fell upon the varied Starfleet uniforms peppering the crowd.

But they're so young, she mused, watching a couple of lieutenant commanders go into a dining establishment not too far away, looking barely older than Harry had when he first came on board Voyager. She was suddenly very conscious of the incongruity of her own uniform, how out of time it was, and she was glad that she had requested Voyager's crewmembers remain on board until she cleared up all the necessary station requirements. That would give them a chance to be outfitted in the new version of uniforms, and now that she was sure that there would be no further repercussions from Voyager's arrival, she could push through the necessary paperwork to provide shore leave ... and orders for disembarking.

The immediate necessity of that was brought home to her rather rudely when she entered her ship through the pylon umbilical. A group of five crewmembers was waiting for her, all dressed in civilian clothes, carrying bags and personal belongings over their shoulders. Frowning, the captain glanced at Chakotay who was standing next to the lock, apparently trying to keep order.

"What's going on?" she demanded.

"We want to leave, Captain," one of them interrupted before Chakotay could answer. A tall, blue-skinned Bolian took a step forward, and apparently, he was the speaker for the rest. His name was Chell, a member of Tuvok's security team, and he seemed to quail as the captain's eyes turned on him. There was a pause as he worked to find his courage again, visibly forcing himself to straighten his shoulders. "We're not Starfleet and we're ready to get on with our lives."

Janeway blinked, surprised, and then was angry at herself for being surprised. She should have expected this. These were not Starfleet members, but ex-Maquis, and the bonds they had forged with Voyager in the Delta Quadrant no longer existed. It still hurt, however, when she saw how easily those ties were severed now that they had returned to the Federation.

She firmed her jaw. "Starfleet would likely wish to speak with you," she said evenly, then realized immediately that it was the wrong thing to say and cursed her weariness. She wasn't doing this right at all.

"I'm sure they would," Chell replied, smiling without humor, "but we don't necessarily want to talk with them." He paused, and then tried a gentler tone, attempting to be more conciliatory. "We've been officially pardoned, Captain, and we've got seven years to catch up on." He glanced back at the others who also appeared uncomfortable, but equally determined, and looked back at Janeway. "Are you going to hold us here against our will?" he asked softly.

Put like that, Janeway realized she had little choice. "No," she said, her tone at its most controlled, not allowing it to quiver though it certainly felt as if her insides were. "Of course not." She took a breath, then slowly scanned them, looking each one in the face. "I ... had hoped that we would have a chance for a more formal leave taking, however, a celebration of sorts."

One of the other Maquis members nodded. "We understand, Captain," she said, and Janeway recognized her as Ensign Gallagher from biometrics ... at least, she had been an ensign. Now, she was dressed as a civilian, and obviously eager to resume that life. "There are a lot of the Maquis members hanging back for that farewell party, but we're not ones for long good-byes. We just want to get off this ship." The woman hesitated, then added gently, "It has been seven years."

"Yes," Janeway said with difficulty. "It has." She stepped aside. "I was proud to have you all as a part of my crew."

"Thank you, Captain," Chell said as he moved by her, the first one through the airlock.

The rest followed, one by one, nodding their heads or murmuring respectful farewells as they passed her. She watched as they disappeared down the corridor, heading for the interior of the station. Finally, she and Chakotay were alone, and she looked at him bleakly.

"I'm sorry, Captain," he said regretfully. "I stalled them as long as I could so that you could bid them an official farewell." He shook his head. "It wasn't as if they didn't have a right to leave ... not once they had a copy of the Federation pardon in their hands."

"You're correct," she said wearily, "they did have a right to leave. I just ... I hoped..." She trailed off. "I guess I didn't expect it to come to this so quickly."

The two officers started walking down the corridor, toward the turbolift. "They're not the only ones leaving now," she added sadly. "There are Starfleet officers who need to disembark here rather than return with us to Earth. They have orders to report to other ships and stations, not to mention those who are planning to take immediate leave and return to their home planets. There's even one or two who are remaining on DS9."

"The Wildmans," Chakotay agreed, as the turbolift doors hissed shut and they began to ascend to the bridge. "Samantha's husband showed up not long after you left." He shot a glance at her. "He's already made arrangements for an engineering team to transfer Mezoti's alcove over to their family quarters on the station. B'Elanna and Seven agreed to supervise the new installation. I didn't see any reason why he couldn't come on board."

She closed her eyes. "No reason at all," she agreed. She pressed her fingertips against her forehead. "Suddenly, things are happening far too quickly, Chakotay."

"I'm afraid it's only going to get worse," he offered gently. He looked at her. "Perhaps you should get some sleep, Captain. We've been at this since 0700 yesterday morning. It's almost 1100 hours. Triple shifts aren't what we should be indulging in right now."

"Point taken," Janeway said, the lift doors opening to release them to the bridge. "I'll return to my quarters, but first I have to finish some paperwork. I want to update the crew manifest to record the departure of the Maquis members."

Chakotay nodded. "They turned their comm badges and uniforms into ship's stores. There's a padd with all their personnel records on your desk."

"Thank you," she said, turning for her ready room.

If there was irony in her tone, neither chose to comment on it. Seven of Nine touched the control padd on the side of the door, hearing the muffled sound of the chime inside. This was her fourth attempt, and the lack of response to the insistent noise forced her to consider the possibility that no one was in there. However, the computer assured her repeatedly that Captain Janeway was in her ready room, regardless of the fact that she just wasn't answering the door, and Seven tried again. Again, a notable lack of reaction, and she hesitated, knowing it was very much against protocol to enter without permission, but also realizing that it was unusual for Janeway not to respond to a repeated request for admittance, even if it was nothing more than an irritable instruction not to interrupt her.

Seven shot a glance back at Tuvok who was currently holding the conn, their eyes meeting. She raised an eyebrow, and he dipped his head briefly to indicate he understood what she was about to do and would not prevent it. Suddenly, she was no longer a Starfleet lieutenant about to breech a captain's private sanctuary, but a woman concerned for the well-being of her spouse. She activated the door and stepped through, looking around anxiously. Discovering the captain sprawled out over the sofa, she let out a sigh of relief as she saw that Janeway was fast asleep, a profusion of padds scattered around her.

Mounting the stairs to the upper level of the ready room, Seven frowned as she saw how exhausted her partner looked, even in her slumber. Lines radiated from Janeway's eyes and her mouth was turned down, almost as if she were displeased by whatever dreams might be plaguing her subconscious. Seven had heard about the disembarkation of a small group of Maquis crewmembers earlier in the day, and she knew that would have disturbed Janeway in a way that few would understand.

Tenderly, she reached down and scooped the woman up in her arms. Janeway made a soft sound of complaint as she was lifted into the air, but she didn't wake fully, instead slipping her arms about Seven's neck. She snuggled into the haven of the Borg's embrace, tucking her head into the hollow of the young woman's neck.

"Computer," Seven instructed quietly, "site to site transport on my authorization, ready room to captain's quarters. Energize."

Sparkles appeared around them as the hum of dematerialization filled her ears, and she blinked, no longer in the ready room, but in the living area of their quarters. She noted Jake curled up on the couch, looking at her with dark eyes, his head raised off his paws. Obviously, his time in Safe Haven with the children had wore him out as well ... to the extent that he wouldn't even get off the couch, despite the sudden appearance of his mistresses.

Janeway stirred again, making another sound of objection. "Annika," she muttered fretfully.

"You must sleep, Kathryn," Seven said softly, carrying her into the bedroom.

"I have too much to do." But the protest was half-hearted, not backed up by any sort of effort, unable to even begin to make one. It was apparent that the vaunted Janeway resources were completely exhausted.

"Later," Seven said firmly, lowering the woman to the bed, and proceeding to strip off the captain's uniform, moving quickly and efficiently, very familiar with the best way to remove her partner's clothes with the least amount of resistance.

"Are we home?" Janeway whispered as Seven tucked her between the sheets. Somehow, the Borg realized the captain wasn't talking about the return to their quarters.

"Yes, Kathryn," Seven assured her. "You have brought us home."

Janeway let her breath out with a sigh, an easing to her features as she settled against the pillows, curled up in the middle of the bed, drifting off to sleep again. Seven stood over her for a few moments, watching her intently as she tenderly stroked one elegant cheek with the back of her knuckles. She moved into the ensuite where she stripped off her own uniform, placing it, and the captain's wrinkled outfit onto the replicator shelf. She programmed in a request to change the pattern over to that currently issued to Starfleet, and activated the replicator. She retrieved the new uniforms, and put them on the sink counter for when the couple required them. Sighing softly, she returned to the bedroom where she crawled into bed and wrapped herself around her partner, settling against the warmth of her slumbering spouse.

It took very little time for her to plunge into sleep. Just as Janeway had been going strongly since the morning before, Seven had been equally as busy in her own duties in engineering, assisting B'Elanna in the dismantling of the slipstream drive, and preparing for the DS9 crew to come on board. Ironically, it took much less time for Voyager's engineering team to strip away the advanced slipstream technology than it had to meld it with the matter-antimatter reaction chamber in the first place ... but then, it was always easier to take something apart than it was to put it together. Afterward, she and the Klingon had spent some time on the station, supervising the installation of a Borg alcove into the Wildman family quarters. The entire time, Seven tried very hard not to think about what all this work really signified.

She woke to discover Janeway snuggled into her body, her face buried so deeply into the hollow of the Borg's shoulder, that she was amazed the captain could still breathe. Seven had only to purse her lips to kiss the captain's temple, feeling Janeway's arms and legs entwined in hers so tightly that she could barely move. She swallowed, and shifted into a more comfortable position, trying not to wake her spouse.

Janeway stirred anyway, a soft murmur escaping her lips.

"Annika?"

"I am right here, Kathryn."

"God, what time is it?" Janeway said, drawing away from the Borg until she was lying on her back. She put a hand to her face, covering her eyes. "What day is it?"

Seven glanced at the chronometer at the head of their bed. "We left the Delta Quadrant at 0800 hours on Stardate 53907," she recited precisely. "We arrived at DS9 at approximately 0253 hours on Stardate 53908. It is now 0542 hours on Stardate 53909."

Janeway exhaled slowly. "Morning, the day after," she muttered. She took her hand away and blinked in the dim illumination of night watch. "The last thing I remember was authorizing releases for some Maquis crewmen in my ready room. How did I get here?"

"I brought you here," Seven explained.

Janeway considered that. "You didn't..." Her voice trailed off uncertainly, as if unsure she wanted to know.

"Carry you through the ship?" Seven finished for her, a touch of amusement in her voice. "No, Kathryn, I initiated a site-to-site transport from the ready room to here."

"Thank you," Janeway said. She stretched gingerly, groaning at what was obviously stiffness in her muscles as she did so. "I feel like I've just gone ten rounds with a Hirogen."

"It was an ... eventful journey," Seven remarked, remembering the final burst of acceleration from the Bajoran Badlands.

"It certainly was," Janeway said, her eyes distant as she stared at the ceiling, and Seven understood suddenly she wasn't referring merely to this final leg of it.

Seven reached over and entwined her fingers with Janeway's, careful not to squeeze too tightly with her Borg mesh.

"Now the next journey begins," Seven offered gently. "You and I in the Alpha Quadrant."

A small smile touched the captain's lips. "Yes. I'm looking forward to it."

They lay in companionable silence for awhile, both lost in their individual thoughts. Seven was aware of her partner's fingers warm within her own, a connection between them that did not need words to emphasize, and she brushed her thumb over the back of Janeway's hand in a light caress. Above the women, through the viewport above their bed, Seven could see the station looming over Voyager, and a variety of ships, personnel and smaller shuttles moving about the docking ring. Periodically, the magnificent flare of the wormhole would appear in the space beyond, and it was obvious that in the aftermath of the war, DS9 had once more become the center of commerce and traffic in this area of the Alpha Quadrant.

The silence stretched on, and the Borg wondered if Janeway had gone back to sleep, but even as the thought crossed her mind, the captain chose that moment to roll over, pressing against Seven's side. The young woman obligingly wrapped her left arm around Janeway's torso as the older woman nestled her head on the Borg's shoulder, her arm resting lightly between Seven's breasts, fingers stroking the smooth plane of the young woman's upper chest.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to feel, Annika," she admitted finally, staring into the greyness of their room. Her voice was uncertain, hesitant. "I've waited so long for this."

"Perhaps you are asking too much of yourself, Kathryn," Seven suggested quietly, rubbing her cheek against the soft, auburn hair. "It is not necessary that you address the magnitude of this event immediately. It will be a major adjustment for all of us on Voyager."

Another silence passed, and Seven could feel the muscle in Janeway's jaw jumping, her mouth moving as she contemplated that. The Borg also suspected that her partner's eyes were a soft grey at the moment, clouded with the immensity of what she had accomplished. Finally, the captain rose up onto her elbow, looking down at Seven who regarded her with interest. Bringing her hand up to cup the Borg's cheek warmly, Janeway's thumb rested lightly on Seven's bottom lip, stroking it lightly. Her eyes, indeed a soft grey, searched the young woman's features intently.

"Whatever I feel," she said finally, in a soft tone. "It's enhanced immeasurably because you're here to share it with me."

Seven returned the regard. "I understand, Kathryn," she responded, and indeed, she thought she did. She could not imagine what it would be like if she were about to face this return on her own, without the support of her spouse.

Janeway continued to study Seven's face.

"I love you," she said with the utmost seriousness.

Seven kissed the woman's thumb gently. "I know."

That generated a bit of a smile from the captain, an easing of some of the intensity around her eyes. Seven smiled, as well, and ran her hand up Janeway's back, to between her shoulder blades, pulling the woman closer to her. Janeway submitted to the gentle pressure, offering her mouth to Seven's, her lips warm and tender as they kissed sweetly.

"I love you, as well," Seven assured her when they parted.

Janeway sighed, a little more relaxed now, and lowered her head onto her partner's chest again, draping her arm across the young woman's torso. Drawing her knee up across Seven's groin, the soft inner skin of Janeway's thigh pressed warmly against the Borg's mound, and the young woman reached down and rested her hand on the outside of the limb, lightly gripping the slender muscle.

Slipping her hand over Seven's right breast, Janeway's fingertips stroked the soft, pink nipple, toying with the tender flesh which promptly hardened beneath her touch. It was not a serious caress ... indeed, it was almost absent-minded, as if the captain was thinking of other things ... but it sent delightful tingles through the young woman. Seven ran her hand languidly along Janeway's leg to her hip, along the hollow of her buttock, then back down to her knee, gentle strokes that were as much soothing as arousing. Unsure if her partner required something more at the moment ... perhaps even Janeway didn't know ... Seven was quite content to lie here in the warmth of darkness and her spouse, allowing events to proceed naturally, and at their own pace.

"What are you feeling?" Janeway asked after a few moments.

"About our return?" Seven returned quietly. "Or your hand on my breast?"

Janeway laughed softly, ceasing her casual caress and placing her palm flat over Seven's heart, almost as if she needed to feel the steady throb as they talked.

"Our return," she clarified.

"Ah." Seven said, vaguely disappointed. She inhaled slowly. "Now that it has happened, I am no longer as disturbed as I have been in the past few weeks. Perhaps I realize that now it is a matter of reacting to what does happen, rather than attempting to prepare for what might."

"Everything will be fine, darling," Janeway assured her quietly. "I would never let anything bad happen to you."

Seven suspected that was not a promise her partner was truly capable of keeping, but she allowed that the intent behind it was sincere and honest, so she did not argue. She merely tightened her embrace and dipped her head so that she could once again kiss the captain. Janeway returned it, a tender expression of love and pleasure. They kissed again, then again, the Borg deepening the contact, her desire developing with slow and loving poignancy as Janeway's response grew accordingly more ardent.

After several moments, the captain drew back from her, looking at her with wide dark pupils, banded by blue-grey. Her face was serious, intent, searching the Borg's narrow features.

"This will be our first time," she said quietly.

Seven required a few seconds to understand what she was talking about, but when she finally did, she was amused. Though it was her belief that all the times she and her partner shared were as special and precious as could be for any two beings this much in love, she comprehended how this encounter at this particular time could be considered a thing of significance for her spouse.

"Yes," she agreed, drawing the captain close to her. "Our first time together in this quadrant."

Inspired by Seven's acknowledgment of the event, Janeway hummed softly in the back of her throat, trailing her fingers back to cover Seven's breast, burrowing her face into the Borg's neck to nibble at it gently. She squeezed the full breast, the nipple prodding the palm, and Seven felt building passion ripple through her, liquid heat forming between her legs.

She inhaled deeply as Janeway pressed her back against the sheets, the captain's mouth becoming more avid, possessive, moving down to take the place of her hand, covering the nipple with satiny moisture, tongue swirling lavishly around it. Seven moaned softly, tangling her fingers in Janeway's auburn hair, holding the head to her, bending her knee as she sank onto the sheets.

"Kathryn," she whispered. "My Kathryn."

"Mmm, love," Janeway responded as she nuzzled the tender nubs, moving her head back and forth between them. "I want you ... so much ... you're so beautiful..."

She eased over on top of the Borg, moving up to seek out Seven's mouth once more in the night, her lips fervent, the touch of tongue against her own powerful and demanding. The taste of the captain was delightfully familiar and all the young woman could ever want as Seven held her close, the kisses going on and on until she was almost dizzy from their sheer intensity.

"I love you," Janeway murmured between them, her tone a husky trill of sensuality that rasped delightfully in Seven's ears, "You are everything to me..."

"Yes," Seven hissed, less verbal but just as impassioned. "Kathryn ... love me..."

"Always," the captain promised, an oath set in stone.

Moving back down to Seven's breasts, Janeway's mouth became urgent, sucking and nibbling gently at the tender flesh, the sharp edge of teeth raking lightly over the stiffened points which were so hard now, they ached. Seven's head went back, her lips parting in a silent cry, arching her back as she offered more of herself, pressing against her spouse. Her legs spread almost of their own accord as Janeway's hand slipped down over the Borg's stomach, stroking her navel, fingers tangling in the wiry blonde curls at the juncture of her thighs. For a moment, Janeway paused, prolonging the anticipation, then her fingers were brushing along the crease, dipping into the wetness she discovered there, and Seven moaned again, a low sound at the back of her throat, helpless in her need for this woman. She was unformed clay in the skilled hands of her spouse, shaped and molded until she was nothing more than a sculpture of pure pleasure, surrendering utterly to the captain, and adoring every second of it.

She didn't know how long Janeway loved her, how long the mouth tasted and teased her, how long the skillful fingers swirled around her sensitive ridge before slipping down to dabble in the wellspring of moisture, urging her open, preparing her for the loving and tender penetration. All she knew was that when the fingertips finally brushed firmly over that spot inside her, it was impossible for her to delay her response, her desire gathering in a rush to center on that one location. She jerked and shuddered, spasming uncontrollably, intimate walls fluttering about the questing fingers that probed and possessed her, loving her utterly.

When she returned to herself, Janeway was holding her tightly, cradling her in arms that were much stronger than their slender structure implied.

"Kathryn," Seven whispered. More than simply a name, it was the sound that encompassed everything that was good and necessary in her existence.

"Annika," Janeway replied, her body fevered, ready, needing its own satisfaction as she pressed against the Borg ... impatient as she waited for her partner to accord it to her. Seven smiled joyfully and pulled her close, rolling them over, kissing the captain into insensibility as her hands ran lightly over her partner's body, seeking out those special, intimate spots she knew drove Janeway wild. The older woman gasped and moaned, arching beneath her, quick to submit to the loving assault that Seven launched upon her. When it was over, Janeway lay quiescent in her partner's arms, a beatific smile of contentment and pleasure on her elegant features.

"Happy?" Seven asked quietly.

"Blissfully." She took Seven's hand and brought it up to her lips, kissing each tip tenderly. "Enjoying the Alpha Quadrant, my darling?" she added softly, teasingly.

Seven smiled faintly. "Had I known it would be so wonderful, I would not have resisted so strongly."

The captain chuckled huskily. "Resistance is futile, love," she said, snuggling deeper into the Borg's embrace. "I think you're going to like it here."

Seven pulled her closer. "I already like it here," she murmured. She paused briefly, looking down at her partner, her eyes glowing. "You have brought your ship safely across two quadrants, Kathryn," she said somberly, granting her partner this moment, knowing that it was important to say it, and wondering if anyone else had thought to mention it before now. From the expression in her partner's face, she knew that no one had, and it pleased her to be able to be the first in this, as well. "Welcome home, my beloved Kathryn."

"Welcome home."

Epilogue

Colonel Kira Nerys frowned as she looked over the new ship docking manifest displayed on the board as she entered the command center. The morning rush was on and around her, her staff worked hard to accommodate every vessel, whether it needed repairs, restocking or just required some R&R for their crew. In that event, they made sure that whoever disembarked understood that while DS9 was a Bajoran station and had not yet applied for membership in the UFP, it was run in accordance with Federation law, its security crew bolstered by a Starfleet presence. Illegal behavior of any kind would not be tolerated.

Kira sighed. That was a lot harder to maintain since Constable Odo had left. Sometimes she wondered if she would ever see the Changeling again ... or if he would be another person in her life that she had loved, only to lose.

Studying the padd handed her by a crewman, she sat down at the operations console, uncertain why the USS Enterprise had made an unscheduled layover at DS9, surprised at the unexpected arrival of Starfleet's flagship earlier in the morning. She went through the forms, making sure the Sovereign-class vessel had all it required, raising an eyebrow as she looked over the requests that the starship had transmitted.

She wondered why Captain Picard was so insistent that his ship be berthed near Voyager, with an alignment that brought the smaller Intrepid-class vessel directly under the sleek, militaristic line of its sensor shadow, as well as its weapons array.

It was almost as if he wanted to keep an eye on the small Scout ship newly arrived from the Delta Quadrant.

Or was it to protect it somehow?

The End