•  Dedicated to Susan Mullarky who passed away on February 3, 2003. Wherever she is, I hope she's enjoying the new season of Millennium.

•  This is the 11th installment in the Millennium series and the first story in Season Two

•  It was posted to the net on February 28th, 2003

•  Some of you may be wondering why I started season two when I indicated I was finished with J/7. At the time I posted those comments, it was what I truly believed. What I had taken for a loss of interest in J/7, however, was actually a loss of interest in writing altogther because of painful associations.  It began when my girlfriend and I finished our relationship near the end of 2001, and then, I discovered Susan was ill.  In both cases, because they were long time readers of my work, I instinctively connected the pain, sadness and heartache with writing fan fic.  I hadn't lost interest so much in J/7 as it hurt to write or even think about the characters.  I struggled and pecked away during 2002, but there was little joy in it since the two people whose opinion meant so much to me no longer would or could read my stuff.  However, since December, 2002, when I managed to somehow get through and finish Millennium #9, I've found myself renewed, first by my beta readers, both old and new, who have worked hard to inspire me, and by learning how to celebrate Susan's life, rather than merely mourn her.  However, I had no intention of announcing anything until I was sure I had stories to be posted. I'm not sure how many will appear in the future, but for now, season two seems to be coming along quite nicely.Beta Beginnings I
G. L. Dartt

She leaned casually on the cast iron railing that bordered a garden bursting with growth, the rich, red roses filling the air with their perfume. A tall woman with level green eyes and a short shock of dark hair, a single lock falling over her forehead, Kiara Kelly was dressed in a black uniform, the shoulders banded by slate blue with a wine-red undertunic. At the collar, three gold pips glinted briefly in the autumn sunshine. High cheekbones and fair skin bespoke Irish genes, while the feather draped from the curve of her right ear was decidedly non-regulation ... but then, the standards for which Starfleet had been known the past two centuries had been somewhat relaxed in the aftermath of a war that had reached into the very heart of the Federation.

Looking across the commons to the campus of Starfleet Academy, she watched the gray uniformed cadets go about their daily routine, heading for classes or more likely at this time, lunch. Before the Dominion war, the Academy was known for putting forth young officers who graduated after four years of the most demanding and challenging course load that could be devised. The best of the best. The cadets were still the best of the best, but now they were being sent forth into a fleet that had seen entire generations of officers depleted, and forced to fill holes that really belonged to more experienced personnel. Kelly herself, was only seven years out of the Academy, but where once it would have been unseemly and impossible for a woman of her relatively tender years to bear the responsibilities of command, now it was commonplace. She was one of the survivors and had been rewarded accordingly ... though one might wonder what reward there was in receiving a promotion only to be sent back to the front in charge of other young people, all looking to her to see them through safely.

Now, the war had ended and the healing process had begun. The ships being built in the Utopia Planitia shipyards orbiting Mars could return to making exploration and science their priority, rather than concentrating only on battle and tactical advantage. Not that the Federation would soon forget the lessons learned at the hands of the Founders. Even Starfleet's science vessels were currently outfitted with the latest in shields and weapons as they went about their business in a quadrant shaken both politically and territorially.

Kelly's eye was caught by an approaching figure, and she straightened respectfully, waiting for the small, energetic woman. Alynna Nechayev had been instrumental in the war effort in her sector bordering the Romulan Neutral Zone. In the aftermath, both she and Admiral Ross, who had been in charge of the Cardassian front, had found themselves in remarkably powerful positions within Starfleet Command. Kelly wasn't entirely sure of the politics involved, but the admiral had a way of coming out on top, making her a formidable ally and an even more dangerous enemy.

"Admiral."

"Commander." There was a hint of the Ukraine in Nechayev's cool tones. "Walk with me."

Obediently, Kelly fell into step with her, abbreviating her normally lengthy stride to allow for the older woman's shorter legs.

"I'm sorry we couldn't meet in my office." The Admiral's apology was by rote only. She smiled thinly. "I see the sunshine so rarely that I hate to waste any opportunity to spend some time in it."

"I understand," Kelly said, though she really didn't. All this open space around her made her slightly nervous. It offered a perfect line of fire for an enemy sniper.

"I assume you're anxious to receive your new orders."

"I wouldn't say, 'anxious', ma'am.  Merely curious."

That was a lie. She was actually full of anticipation. During the war, she had been forced to take command more than once, stepping up when her superiors were killed, in order to extricate herself and those around her from countless bad situations. She had even taken over a small Sabre-class vessel during the last part of the war, captaining a tight little crew of hardened veterans who knew well how to take apart a squad of Jem'Hadar fighters. In the aftermath of the peace accord, they patrolled the Breen border, keeping an eye on the mysterious aliens, and encountering more than a few skirmishes that kept their battle edge sharp. Being called to Earth was both inconvenient and a formality. She fully expected to be offered that extra pip to her collar to make her command official and the Grissom completely hers.

Nechayev handed her a padd and Kelly viewed the data as they walked the path winding through the park separating Command Headquarters from the Academy, meandering through the lush gardens tended lovingly by the groundskeeper, Boothby. To Kelly's surprise, it contained specs for a ship and a list of personnel. There were over a thousand names.

"Millennium? That's the new Fast Explorer, isn't it?" Kelly suddenly had a bad feeling. There was no way they were going to give her command of a ship that size.

"It went out to continue exploration of the Delta Quadrant," Nechayev explained. "It returned to port three months ago. Upon its return, the executive officer was granted command of USS Voyager."

Kelly looked at her, waiting for the punch line.

Nechayev smiled again, her Slavic features amused. "You're taking his spot. First officer under Captain Kathryn Janeway. Congratulations, Commander."

Kelly felt a trifle light-headed. In addition to the traditional impulse and warp drives, the Millennium was outfitted with something called the transition drive, an experimental propulsion system based partially on something called a slipstream drive, Borg transwarp coils, and the old transwarp theories that had been kicking around the starship design labs for almost a century. Even out on the border, Kelly had heard all about the ship as it was undergoing construction. There had been more than a few officers vying for the honor of taking it out on its maiden voyage.

Kelly had also heard all the rumors about its eventual captain, an old style starship commander whose family boasted a long history in Starfleet. Both Janeway's father and grandfather had been admirals. The daughter appeared cut from the same cloth, rising to the rank of captain in a timely manner, the road undoubtedly paved by cronies of her father. In her previous command, Janeway had somehow misplaced an entire quadrant, losing her ship in the Delta Quadrant for almost seven years. That meant she and her crew missed the war entirely, managing to avoid any kind of action involved in freeing the Federation from the Dominion threat. Despite that, Janeway had been awarded command of Starfleet's most coveted vessel upon her return. Kelly wasn't sure how it had come about, but she was certain it had to do with strings pulled by Janeway's associates in Starfleet Command, including the admiral standing next to her.

She was supposed to serve as Janeway's first officer?

"Admiral..." she began.

Nechayev held up a hand, stopping the protest. "Janeway's an excellent captain, and you're going to learn a lot from her."

Kelly sincerely doubted that, but she kept a tight rein on her tongue. She had learned enough to know that attitude, standard on the frontier, didn't necessarily work on the inner worlds of the Federation. The admiral glanced at her, and seemed to detect her feelings from her expression.

"There are a lot of people in Starfleet Command solidly in your corner, Kelly.  They seem to think you're ready for a command of your own."

"With all due respect, Admiral, I already have a command of my own," Kelly said tightly. "I've been commanding the USS Grissom for the past two years."

"Yes, out on the Breen border, where diplomacy is dictated by how big your phaser banks are, and scientific acuity is measured by how quickly one can rig an explosive device from spare parts. On a light cruiser with a crew of less than forty, every one of them cut in exactly the same mold as you. If that's all you aspire to as a starship captain, then we've severely overestimated your abilities. Starfleet expects better of its officers and wants them to reach their entire potential, not just a minor portion of it." She stopped, turning to face the young woman with ice blue eyes. "You're a diamond in the rough, Kelly, unpolished, unfinished, with little sense of how the Federation works as a whole. It's an unfortunate side effect of the war, not just for you but for those Starfleet officers like you, who have known nothing else for the duration of their career. That's the reality we both have to deal with. Janeway will knock off your rough edges and teach you how to react to situations with something other than shooting first and asking questions later."

"Yes, sir," Kelly said stiffly.

Nechayev eyed her. "You can, of course, refuse the promotion."

"This is a promotion?" Kelly blurted before she could stop the words from escaping her lips.

"It is, but you don't have a clue how significant it is, and possibly won't until it's over."

"Until what's over, Admiral?"

"Until Janeway has turned you into the sort of starship commander you need to be if you expect to rise any further within the ranks of Starfleet." Nechayev pierced her with a final look, raking Kelly up and down with the intensity of a phaser burst. "Report to Millennium at 0800 tomorrow morning. She's breaking orbit and heading for the Klingon border at 1300 hours."

"Admiral! That's not enough time to go over the specs of the ship, let alone familiarize myself with the position I'm expected to fill!"

Nechayev flicked an eyebrow at the padd, looking supremely unsympathetic. "Then I guess you'd better get started. Dismissed."

Astonished, Kelly watched as Nechayev turned to stroll briskly away, and then looked down at the padd in her hand. It was still set to the crew roster, the list seeming to go on forever, though all it displayed was the name, rank and species of each individual. It did absolutely nothing to prepare her for the personalities she would face, particularly that of the captain.

Belatedly, she lifted her head. Nechayev was still visible in the distance. "Admiral!"

Somehow, the woman heard her and turned back.

"What about my ship? What about the Grissom?"

"It's been taken care of," Nechayev called back. Then she was gone.

Considerably dissatisfied, Kelly started off in the other direction, her feet somehow taking her out of the Academy grounds and onto the walkway along the street. The crew quarters to which she had been assigned while on Earth were located in a hotel at the edge of the water. The salt tang in the breeze made her sneeze, and she was relieved to enter the lobby where the filtered air was somewhat similar to that of a starship. Making her way back to her room, she tossed the padd negligently onto the bed and took a seat in the armchair next to the window. Staring blankly through the transparency, she was oblivious to the spectacular view of the harbor and the transport center where silvery forms of shuttles lifted into the air like some odd form of metallic butterflies.

As the admiral said, Kelly thought painfully, she could always refuse the promotion. She would in a minute, if she weren't acutely aware of how much things had been changing around her for the past two years. Though her whole career had been spent as a soldier, she knew that, other than a few hot spots here and there, peace had inexorably returned to the Federation. Of course, the Romulan Star Empire made noise now and again, but when it did, it wasn't a Sabre-class vessel that handled it, but rather the large Galaxy and Sovereign-class vessels that patrolled the neutral zone, ships of a size on which she had never set foot. Scientific exploration and diplomacy were replacing the militaristic attitude that had dominated Starfleet when the war had been at its height.

Kelly felt an ache at her temples.

As hard as it was to her personally, the young woman was smart enough to accept the fact that she was becoming an anachronism at only twenty-eight. If she didn't accept this posting, she would find herself remaining on the Breen border or its equivalent forever, limited to the tiny, heavily armored vessels that had no purpose other than to patrol the same stretch of space for months on end, maintaining the peace. That wasn't necessarily a bad thing, but she had anticipated so much more from her career when graduating the Academy. It just seemed so long ago that it was difficult to remember all those dreams and expectations.

Was it possible to return to that younger, more naive vision of herself?

She glanced at the padd, seeing the captain's name at the top of the crew roster. Could this Captain Kathryn Janeway really help her with that? Or would she turn out to be as staid and conservative a commanding officer as Kelly feared.Kathryn Janeway leaned forward, elbows on the desktop, fingertips rubbing her temples vigorously. Tension threaded from them to tighten the muscles in her neck and make her jaw ache with delicate agony. "What are you trying to do to me, Admiral?"

The chime of her ready room door made her start, looking up so quickly that she felt a sliver of pain skitter down her spine. Her body's cry for attention was clear and without mercy. She needed a break. She just wasn't sure when she was going to get it since there were still a few hours before they broke orbit and set a course for the Klingon border in preparation for their transition jump.

"Come," she said, inhaling deeply and trying to relax.

Commander Ro Laren, promoted a half pip for Millennium's second mission, entered the ready room with a deadly grace. The slender Bajoran was carrying a stack of padds, each undoubtedly requiring the captain's undivided attention, and Janeway resisted the urge to throw her out. Not because of the woman, whom she rather liked, but because she knew her security chief was only going to present her with more problems.

"Captain?" Ro regarded her keenly. "Are you all right?"

Janeway leaned back in her chair and turned her computer console around so that Ro could see the file displayed on its viewscreen. "This is our new first officer."

Ro hesitated briefly, and then placed the padds on the desk, taking a seat in the chair opposite the captain. Frowning, she began to read. Her eyebrow rose accordingly as she worked her way through the data scrolling across the screen.

"She's rather young," she noted after a moment. "Lots of tactical experience. Seen more than her fair share of action in the war. It put her on the fast track to the top."

"Having your superiors killed will facilitate a quick rise in the ranks," Janeway said dryly.

Ro glanced at her, a little uncertain whether she should smile at that or not. She decided on prudence and kept her expression impassive. "She's also from Earth. Wexford, Ireland to be precise." She lifted a brow and glanced at Janeway. "I'm not sure I understand, Captain."

"I'm not sure I do either, but it's clear that she won't be able to take the conn when we make the transition jump. You're going to have to take us through."

Ro didn't flicker at the comment, merely dipping her head in acknowledgment, which the captain was profoundly glad to see. The Bajoran had recently undergone a certain crisis of faith in her abilities, unsure whether she could fulfill the position of Millennium's chief of security and its third in command. Janeway had simply told her to show up at her post when it was time. Otherwise, she instructed Ro to send a replacement, but in either case, the incident would not be spoken of again, assumed by both parties that it was settled and that Janeway could expect nothing less than Ro Laren's best, now and for the foreseeable future. When Janeway arrived on her ship, resuming her place on the bridge after a three-month leave, Ro was at the tactical station as if nothing had occurred. Janeway had been considerably relieved, though not prepared to share just how much with the Bajoran.

"I suppose it's too late to object," Janeway said thoughtfully, leaning her head back as she contemplated the ceiling, linking her hands behind her neck.

"The timing of the appointment does seem rather suspect." Ro tilted her head, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully.  "I was under the impression we were to be assigned Commander Mendon, a Benzarian."

"The orders changing that appointment came down two days ago," Janeway said. "He's been transferred to the Titan. Captain Riker's scooping up seasoned officers all over the place, and somehow, he managed to divert that assignment. Apparently, Mendon served with him on the Enterprise at one time." She frowned. "I owe Will big for that one."

"The Titan is also where Ensign Marcos ended up, isn't it?"

Janeway nodded briefly, but she wasn't interested in where previous crewmembers had transferred, but rather in new ones who were transferring to Millennium. "I should have known Nechayev would take the opportunity to slip in another of her projects," she admitted with dissatisfaction. "That was one of the conditions I accepted when taking over this command: to make this a teaching ship as much as a scientific vessel."

"Is that so surprising, Captain? Your reputation for melding diversified individuals into a smoothly operating crew is legendary."

"Is it? I must remember to do something about my PR."

Ro finally did smile at that, a brief curve that touched the corners of her thin lips. "Certainly it's no more than other captains are experiencing," she offered as a form of reassurance. "Personnel is thin everywhere and sometimes you have to take what's available, rather than who's best qualified."

Janeway leaned forward and held up an index finger. "Don't fool yourself, Laren," she said darkly. "Nechayev goes out of her way to make my life difficult. This is just one more example of her getting back at me because of those damned fighters."

Ro's mouth twitched. "Yes, Captain."

"In any event, it's up to us to fit this Kelly into the crew." Janeway reached out and moved the console back to its original position. "She's clearly skilled in advanced tactical strategy, initially coming out of security. I suspect you and she will have a lot in common."

"Is this another lost sheep scenario?" Ro looked vaguely alarmed.

Janeway smiled briefly. "Not at all, but I think that every officer needs an ally when they board a new vessel. Zar quickly made friends with Seven. I suspect you'll be the natural choice for Kelly."

"If you say so, Captain." Ro was clearly not convinced. She seemed ready to say more when a chirp on her communicator interrupted her. She tapped it. "Ro here."

"Sir, a Commander Kiara Kelly has just beamed on board," came the low words of the transporter officer. "She wishes to know which officer is on watch."

Ro glanced at Janeway and the captain exhaled. "So it begins. Send her up."

Ro cleared her throat. "The captain wishes to greet her immediately. Direct her to the ready room."

"Aye sir."

Ro stood up, leaving the padds on the desk. "When you have time, Captain," she said, gesturing toward them.

Janeway merely shot her a gloomy look and settled back in her chair as the Bajoran vacated the room. A few minutes passed, and the chime sounded to herald the arrival of Millennium's latest first officer. Janeway folded her hands neatly on the desktop, settling her shoulders beneath the bands of slate-blue.

"Enter."

Janeway studied the rangy woman that walked into her room. Moving with Ro's sense of deadliness, but little of the Bajoran's grace, Kelly seemed rather out of place in these surroundings. Her hair was dark, but her skin was unusually fair with a decided hint of shipboard pallor, in direct contrast to Janeway who was deeply tanned after enjoying three months of Indiana summer. Kelly's eyes were a vivid green, and scattered across the pug nose were the tiniest hint of freckles. She looked about twelve going on forty, somewhat like a street urchin. The thought was disconcerting.

She came to a stop in front of Janeway's desk, dropped her bag on the deck, and snapped to attention, her boyish chest stuck out, eyes front and center.

"Commander Kiara Kelly reporting for duty, Sir!"

Oh dear, Janeway thought, observing this with some dismay. She's around the same age as Harry Kim. Not as green, but definitely used to one style of service and one style only.

"At ease, Commander," Janeway offered. "Please, have a seat."

"I'd prefer to stand, Sir." Kelly looked straight ahead as she linked her hands behind her back and spread her legs in the traditional parade rest posture.

Janeway's eyes narrowed, wondering if there wasn't the slightest bit of discourtesy involved here. Of course, the adherence to attention was the sort of attitude present on a military ship, but she knew the girl had been in command of at least forty officers. Was this what she had expected from her crew and, hence, believed Janeway would expect of her? Or had she willfully refused a seat when offered because of some kind of chip on her shoulder?

"Commander," Janeway said mildly, "I'm not going to develop a kink in my neck because you have some kind of aversion to chairs. Please, sit down." Her voice hardened on the last two words, making it an order.

Color darkened Kelly's fair complexion, turning it bright red as the officer promptly took a seat in the comfortable armchair. Janeway studied her for a few moments, allowing the silence to stretch on as she attempted to get a sense of the young woman.

"Is that ... cultural?" she asked finally.

Kelly blinked and reached up, touching the feather braided it into her hair.

"Uh, no, Captain. One of my officers came up with it to signify victory. Every time we destroyed a Jem'Hadar vessel, another bead was added to the shaft."

Janeway eyed the adornment, making a quick count of the tiny beads lining one end of the feather, raising an eyebrow at the number, but less than impressed with the officer's need for a primitive tally of death and destruction. It was the sort of militaristic inclination for trophies that the Hirogen had indulged, and in Janeway's opinion, had no place in an organization like Starfleet. She had no doubt that Kelly also sported a tattoo of some kind on that wiry frame, signifying her loyalty to her ship and crewmates first. Perhaps even a nickname of some sort, emblazoned beneath a barbaric emblem, like Grissom's Gang, to prove how tough the officers were. A talisman against evil, as if it would somehow protect them when the phaser fire began to fly.

"You won't require it here," she said quietly.

Kelly's face stiffened and there was a flash of what could only be resentment in those green eyes, but she did not object. "Yes, sir."

"I prefer Captain," Janeway told her. "Ma'am in a pinch."

Kelly regarded her. "Yes ... ma'am." The tone was even, but there had been just enough hesitation in it to indicate what the officer thought of the choice of appellations.

Janeway wanted to sigh. This was not going well at all, but then, had she really expected it to? She slowly let a breath out between her lips, feeling the throb of her headache radiate through her skull. Even Ro hadn't been as brittle and edgy as Kelly, or perhaps Janeway simply hadn't met the Bajoran early enough in her career.

"We don't just have Starfleet personnel serving on this vessel," Janeway explained, feeling as if she was reaching for conversation. It wasn't a familiar sensation for the accomplished Starfleet officer. "There are a large contingent of civilians, including families and children. Our mission is to extend the boundaries of Federation knowledge, and because of our unique propulsion system, we're able to explore further than any other vessel has managed before."

"Yes, ma'am, I went over the ship's specs before coming on board."

The tone was polite, but Janeway still felt an incredible urge to reach across the desk and slap the officer soundly across the head. The strength of that desire surprised and unsettled her, and she forced it back with an effort.

"Excellent," Janeway managed evenly. "Your quarters are on deck three. I suggest you take this opportunity to settle in. We're breaking orbit at 1300 hours. I want you on the bridge when we do."

"Yes, si...uh, Ma'am."

Better, Janeway thought darkly, but still not there. Yet, if Kelly was used to certain responses, had certain ingrained habits, then it would take a little time to adjust to Janeway's method of doing things. The captain decided that she just had to be a little patient.

"Thank you, Kiara. You're dismissed."

"Captain?"

"Yes?"

"I would really prefer to be called Commander Kelly, or in a pinch, 'Number One' while serving as your first officer."

Janeway's blood pressure elevated perceptibly, but she managed to keep from rising from her chair and going after the young woman. The audacity was incredible. Janeway hadn't encountered such impertinence since ... well, since Seven first came on board Voyager five years earlier, and in truth, Janeway thought this was worse. Seven's attitude sprang from her Borg upbringing, imbuing the young woman with an innate sense of superiority and arrogance. The captain wasn't sure what Kelly's problem was, or why she felt she had one with Janeway.

"Of course ... Number One." Unfortunately, the captain was unable to keep the sarcasm from lacing her tone, and was rewarded once more with a flush of crimson to Kelly's cheeks. The door slid shut behind the first officer with a mocking hiss, and Janeway looked skyward with appalled dismay.

"Oh. My. God."Seven glanced up from her meal preparation as the captain entered their quarters. The young woman, once a Borg drone and now the science officer of Millennium, could tell her wife was unusually agitated. She had thought the same thing earlier, on the bridge, as the starship left Earth and set course for the neutral zone bordering the Klingon Empire. At the time, she couldn't really say anything. The parameters the women operated under while on duty were sometimes difficult to define, but fortunately, ship's business remained outside the door of their cabin for the most part. Here, Seven could ask anything of the captain, and even demand it, if she felt it necessary.

"Kathryn, what troubles you?"

Janeway, on her way to the bedroom, paused. "What makes you ask?"

Seven lifted a brow. There were so many signs in the captain's body language and demeanor that she didn't know where to begin. She knew Janeway would become annoyed if she began to list them.

"Intuition," she said finally.

The response made Janeway blink and turn around to stare at her spouse. "It's a long story," she said finally, after contemplating Seven for a long moment. "I'll fill you in over dinner."

"You do remember that Laren and B'Elanna are coming over," Seven prompted gently.

Janeway's expression indicated that she had not remembered, but she didn't say anything else, resuming her course for the bedroom. Seven inhaled slowly and looked down at the cutting board where she had been slicing fresh vegetables for a platter.

This could be a long evening, she mused.

Arranging the carrot sticks, mushroom slices, broccoli flowers, celery and dip on the tray, she carried it over to the coffee table. A melodious ding gave notice that her guests had arrived, and after smoothing her hands down her crimson shirt that draped becomingly over her cleavage, Seven moved to answer the door. It hissed open to reveal Ro and the ship's chief engineer, B'Elanna Torres. A Klingon/Human hybrid, the volatile woman was dressed in a leather vest and trousers, her arms bare, the musculature rippling beneath the smooth, olive skin.

Seven accepted the bottle of spring wine that Ro offered as the couple entered the cabin. Married for a couple of years, they were good friends with Seven and Janeway, as well as trusted members of the captain's crew. Seven knew that despite Kathryn's mood, she would be glad to see them.

After directing them to the conversation area, the Borg carried the bottle over to the counter, finding a corkscrew to open the it and filling four glasses with the shimmering liquid. B'Elanna had already dived into the vegetable tray, crunching a carrot stick with evident pleasure.

"What's on for tonight, 'Nik?"

The shortened version of Seven's human designation, Annika Hansen, had only ever been used by B'Elanna.

"A poultry dish that Gretchen taught me during my leave," Seven explained as she handed the couple their wine. After returning from the kitchenette a second time, she took a seat on the sofa across from B'Elanna with two more glasses, sipping from one while placing the other on the table for her partner. "It is a fairly complicated dish, but I believe I have mastered the recipe."

"It smells fantastic," Ro assured her as she retrieved some mushrooms.

B'Elanna was regarding Seven with a quizzical tilt to her head. "What happened to your arms, Seven?"

Involuntarily, the Borg glanced down at her arms that were revealed by the sleeveless top she had chosen this night. Normally, the reddish rash currently pebbling the underside of her elbows and forearms was covered by her uniform tunic and thus, not readily available for discussion.

"An unfortunate reaction to dried grasses," she explained. "Dr. Pulaski is treating it with an ointment. I believe it will heal quickly."

"Dried grasses?"

A memory flashed into Seven's mind of Kathryn's and her final day on Earth, of being lured into the barn by her amorous spouse and pulled down into the fragrant mound of hay as Janeway pressed her attentions upon her in a most delightful manner. At least, that is, until the couple was interrupted by the unexpected arrival of Gretchen Janeway in search of a garden tool. Her wickedly dry comment that she hadn't seen her daughter's 'tushie' since she was a child, caused considerable consternation to the captain as she scrambled to pull up her jeans, face crimson with embarrassment.

The rash decorating Seven's back, buttocks and thighs was actually much worse than that on her arms, but she decided not to share that piece of information with her friends.

"I spent my leave on Gretchen's farm," she reminded them instead. "There are substantial amounts of hay and straw stored in the barn."

"What were you doing in the barn?" B'Elanna asked. Fortunately, Janeway chose that moment to join the gathering, enabling Seven to avoid any further response.

"Ladies," the captain greeted as she took a seat beside her spouse, reaching for her glass of wine and draining half of it in a single swallow. Seven eyed her narrowly, and the captain exhaled audibly. "Rough day," she explained to her spouse's unspoken query.

"Our new exec?"  The ridge on Ro's nose crinkled becomingly as she observed the captain, and Seven knew the Bajoran was amused, though the 'why' was unclear.

Janeway shook her head. "I don't even want to talk about it."

Seven glanced back and forth between her spouse and the security chief inquiringly. B'Elanna was doing the same and less hesitant about digging for information.

"What are you talking about? What's up with our new exec?"

Ro lifted her chin. "Apparently, our new first officer is quite the pistol."

"Fully charged and aimed directly at my head," Janeway finished wryly.

"Really?"

B'Elanna looked intrigued and Seven blinked, somewhat bemused. The first officer's station was located next to the science post on the bridge. Seven had not observed anything untoward about the new officer while working with her, finding Kelly quite contained and efficient, almost Borglike in her attention to duty. The science officer did have to admit, however, that she had noticed an odd little mocking note in the captain's voice whenever she spoke to Kelly, particularly when using the appellation "Number One", which she had with unusual frequency.

Janeway lifted her glass. "Kelly will have to adjust." Seven recognized the tone as one the captain utilized whenever she wanted to be fair and was finding it difficult. "Her career to this point has been intense but somewhat limited in scope. She'll have to work her way into the position. In the meantime, the crew, including myself, will have to be patient."

B'Elanna appeared eager to pursue it, but a subtle nudge from the Bajoran's elbow forestalled her next question, and after a glance in Ro's direction, she subsided and changed the subject.

"Any word on the Orion Syndicate?"

Janeway shook her head. "Starfleet Intelligence has dispatched a team of operatives to take care of the problem, but we probably won't know the results until we return." She offered a thin smile. "It's just a relief not to have a security officer trailing me any more. Every time we left the farm, Seven and I had one accompany us everywhere."

"It was irritating at times, but necessary," Seven told them. A small noise from the direction of the kitchen alerted her that the timer on the heating unit had completed its countdown. "Dinner is ready. If you could escort our guests into the arboretum, Kathryn, I will join you shortly."

The four women enjoyed their meal in the cool surroundings of the green space attached to the captain's quarters. The small arboretum, containing flowers, bushes and even some short apple trees, provided a fragrant and fresh atmosphere for dining, and was a decided contrast to the very technical world of the starship. Utilizing her position as commander of the Utopia Planitia shipyards to implement the design alteration, the arboretum had been a Valentine's Day gift from the captain to her spouse. The Borg was certain that it was the best present she had ever received.

She was also pleased to see that Kathryn gradually lost the edgy temper that she had carried home, eroded away by the good food, good friends and the spring wine Ro had brought. The women found a great deal to discuss about their upcoming mission and the new crewmembers they had taken on, though Seven noticed the captain tried to stay away from any further discussion about their latest first officer.

But as the evening progressed, Seven grew steadily more uncomfortable. At one point, she caught the eye of her spouse and Janeway nodded briefly, easily reading the mute appeal in the Borg's gaze. Smiling, the captain finished up the story she had been telling and deftly brought the evening to a close. It was doubtful B'Elanna and Ro were even aware that they were being rushed out, such was Janeway's charm and subtlety.

Seven was already on her way to the bedroom before the door had hissed shut behind them, peeling the shirt over her head and shinnying quickly out of her trousers and underwear.

"Kathryn!" she called, her voice entreating.

"On my way darling," Janeway said, appearing in the doorway. "Lie down on your stomach."

Seven reached for the jar on the nightstand, quickly scooping out a liberal amount of the cream that she slathered over her arms. Dropping face down onto the mattress, the Borg almost cried out from the sheer relief as Janeway slipped onto the bed beside her and began to apply the oitment to Seven's back, buttocks and thighs, relieving the insidious, terrible itching that had been steadily building all evening. It had taken all of Seven's will power not to scratch, not to give into that exquisite torment, suffering the burning sensation for as long as she could before signaling the captain. She decided it was very fortunate she had such a perceptive spouse.

"I still don't understand why you had such a reaction," Janeway said with dissatisfaction as she spread the cream over the young woman's shoulders. "You've been exposed to hay before. God knows, you and Icheb were always transporting to Juan's ranch in Arizona and riding your horses. There had to be plenty of hay lying about there."

"Yes, but I had never rolled around in it naked prior to our romantic encounter yesterday."

"I'm really sorry, darling." The captain developed a decidedly rueful tone in her voice. "I guess having a roll in the hay is like making love in a Borg alcove; better in theory than in execution. I just thought it would be fun to try it before leaving Earth."

"It was fun ... until we were interrupted." Seven exhaled as the excruciating itch eased with the application of the cream. "Thank you, Kathryn. I was becoming most uncomfortable."

"I could tell. You were squirming quite a bit there at the end. I don't think Laren or B'Elanna noticed, though."

"I am glad," Seven said, sighing slightly as she relaxed against the bedding. Now that the itching had been relieved, drowsiness began to descend. "I would not want to have spoiled our evening."

Janeway leaned down, nuzzling her ear gently. "You could never spoil anything, love." She flicked the Borg's earlobe provocatively with the tip of her tongue.

Seven groaned. "Please, Kathryn, don't. You know I am unable to make love under these conditions. It is unfair to arouse me without the intention of satisfying me."

"That's not quite what I meant to do, my darling, but I promise, I'll be good," Janeway chuckled, kissed Seven's temple lightly, and rolled off the bed. "I'll clean up. You stay here and try not to itch. I'll be back shortly."

Seven shifted over to one side of the bed, still lying on her stomach. The ointment's effectiveness was relatively limited, and before the night was through, she could expect to be awakened again with an overpowering need to scratch. She considered herself fortunate that she had Janeway there to apply the cream to those areas she could not easily reach.

Of course, she reminded herself ruefully, were it not for the captain, she would not have developed the rash in the first place.Ro glanced up as Seven passed by the command chair, receiving a nod from the Borg to indicate the captain had taken her hypospray and was cozily tucked away in her ready room. The Bajoran had felt a slight apprehension about taking the conn for this transition jump, but now that the moment was actually here, she was calm and ready. For most of the officers on the bridge, this was old hat, their third jump on a vessel that had performed impressively to this point. The ship no longer bore the NX experimental designation, instead boasting the call letters NCC 80861 as a fully commissioned deep space vessel. There was no reason to believe it would falter in any way by taking the leap into the farthest reaches of the Beta Quadrant.

For that was their mission this year, with two additional directives. The first was to make the tentative beginnings of an official alliance with the Confederation of Species, a civilization similar to the Federation in social and political makeup. The second was to discover, if possible, the origin of a parasitic lifeform that had infiltrated Starfleet Command almost sixteen years earlier. Shortly before the mother creature's destruction, a communications signal had been transmitted to an area in the Beta Quadrant, and Millennium was instructed to track down who or what might have received it.

Relinquishing her post to another crewmember for a moment, Seven strode around the bridge, the last minute visual check on the other posts. In the absence of both the captain and first officer, the Borg was serving as the temporary exec.

"Time to jump?" Ro asked as Seven settled back at the science station.

"Two minutes," Lt. Nog reported from the helm. "The T'Korth remains on a parallel course aft and starboard."

The last time, it had been a Starfleet vessel escorting them to the departure coordinates, acting as both honor guard and observer of what had been a historic occasion. Since they weren't far from the Klingon border, the Empire had dispatched a Negh'Var Class Dreadnought to see Millennium off. It was a gesture of respect by the Federation, asking for their assistance in what was still considered a somewhat highly classified mission. It offered the Klingons the sense that they were still trusted allies, even though having been so decimated by the war, they were no longer a significant political power in the Alpha Quadrant.

"All hands," Ro said, activating the ship-wide channel, "prepare for transition,"

"Engineering reports warp engines at full," Ro's assistant security chief said from his place at tactical. Lt. M'reek's slender, almost frail form belied the fact that he was a formidable hand-to-hand fighter, as well as adept with bladed weapons beyond anything Ro had ever encountered. Neither skill was particularly useful at the moment, however. "Shields at maximum."

"Current speed is warp seven," Nog reported. The Ferengi's hands were steady as they moved over the helm.

"Increase to warp factor nine, Lieutenant," Ro commanded.

"The T'Korth encourages us to fight well," T'Shanik reported from Ops. The Vulcan's voice was even, indicating none of the anticipation that the rest of the bridge crew was displaying. "They're reducing speed and falling off."

"We are at warp nine. Increasing to warp nine point one." Nog's high, piping voice was a decided contrast to the Vulcan's.

"Structural integrity field at one hundred percent," T'Shanik added.

"We are at nine point two."

Ro took a deep breath. "Activate transition drive."

On the viewscreen at the front of the bridge, a spatial distortion appeared. Millennium sped toward it eagerly. A small jolt indicated the conduit had been accessed, and the stars disappeared as a swirling corridor of light and color surrounded the starship.

"Exit coordinates laid in," Nog announced. "ETA is seventy-three minutes."

There was a subtle sense of relaxation that swept over the bridge. This would be a slightly longer jump than the one that took them to the Delta Quadrant a year or so earlier. Ro settled into her chair, hoping it would go smoothly.

"Sickbay to bridge."

Ro started slightly, hoped no one had noticed, and lifted her chin. "Go ahead."

"We have a medical emergency on deck three," the EMH, now Lt. Lewis, explained. He was in command of sickbay while the ship's CMO, Dr. Pulaski, was sedated. "Sensors indicate it's Commander Kelly. I'll update you as soon as I have more."

"Understood."  Ro cut the channel, frowning as she regarded the viewscreen. What the hell had happened with Kelly? Had it been some kind of reaction to the medication or had she ... she wouldn't have ... would she? Was it possible that the new first officer had actually been that stupid?

Minutes passed as Ro waited impatiently, hearing only the low sounds of the ship in jump, the crew attentively covering their posts, soft chirps and beeps underlying the somewhat disturbing hum and vibration of the transition drive. When the doctor finally contacted her, Ro jumped again and knew she was a bit on edge. With an effort, she took a brief second to calm her nerves.

"Let's hear it, Doctor."

"Commander, apparently Miss Kelly decided to see if she was immune to Transition Jump Syndrome. She's been transported to sickbay. We're treating her now."

Ro winced. "How is she?"

"Quite frankly, a mess. You do know that there is a certain loss of bodily function involved?" Lewis paused. "She seems to have had a most hearty breakfast. I don't imagine she'll be one of Maintenance's favorite people for awhile."

"I'll dispatch a team to her quarters to clean up," Ro said, acknowledging the hint. She paused, vaguely interested. "Will she survive, Doctor?"

"Of course, but she'll probably wish she hadn't. The physical symptoms are quite severe."

Of course, this was all before Janeway got a hold of her, Ro thought. She shook her head, wondering how the kid could have made it so far in Starfleet, and still not have a clue how to operate. The protocols put forth regarding the transition jump had been created for a reason, and anyone who presumed to violate them was ripe for serious repercussions. Then the Bajoran realized what she was thinking and became wryly amused. When did she become such a strict adherent to protocols and regulations? It wasn't that long ago that Ro had played the lone wolf with unsatisfying results. Who was she to judge someone else's lapse in judgement?

"Doctor, how long will she be incapacitated?"

"She's severely dehydrated from the loss of bodily fluids," Lewis replied. "She also pulled a few muscles while seizing. If you absolutely need her once we're through the jump, Commander, I can get her back on her feet utilizing a combination of stimulants and metabolic enhancers, but I'd really prefer to have her come out of it naturally. I'd also like to keep her under observation for a few days, especially since the full impact of TJS isn't fully known. We don't want to be in the position of overlooking something that previous case studies haven't encountered."

Ro considered it and finally decided that whether they needed the first officer right away should be left up to the captain once she came out of sedation. "There's no pressing need to get her back on her feet, Doctor," she confirmed. "Carry on." Aware of Seven glancing over her shoulder at her, she shrugged lightly, leaning forward to make their conversation private. "I guess some people just don't know their limitations ... or refuse to acknowledge them."

Seven nodded, lowering her voice. "Apparently." She paused, lifting a brow. "Does Commander Kelly's attitude not remind you of someone else?"

Ro's lips twitched, a brief smile appearing. "Perhaps, but I'm smart enough to know that pointing it out wouldn't be appreciated."

"You are correct," Seven agreed and turned back to her board. "Transition at fifty percent completion."

Halfway there. Ro hoped that Kelly's imprudent decision-making would be the worst thing she'd have to handle during this jump. She amused herself by wondering how angry the captain would be and what form of punishment she would devise for the young exec. That passed several moments, and before she knew it, it was time.

"All hands, stand by for jump completion." The rest of the bridge crew perked up. "Tactical?"

"All weapons are online," M'reek said. "Phasers are standing by." It wasn't as if they would have time to use them, of course, should something nasty be waiting for them on the other side, but Ro was aware it provided a tiny, psychological sense of security. "Shields at maximum."

"As soon as we're clear and the conduit has collapsed, power down completely, Lt. Nog. Take up station keeping at those coordinates. Ops, prepare to send standard greetings upon reaching normal space."

"Understood, Commander."

"Approaching exit coordinates," Nog commented.

"Brace for exit." Ro's fingers tightened on the arms of the command chair.

"Sensors detect no obstacles," T'Shanik noted, though it was too little, too late. The sensors simply weren't fast enough to detect anything at this speed. By the time she said it, they were already past the farthest point the sensors could discern.

There was another jolt, smaller than the first, as the swirling colors and light on the screen dissipated with a bright flash of light. Abruptly, they were back among the stars, tearing along at warp nine, though as soon as they were clear, Nog immediately began to power down until they were at a complete stop.

"Transition jump complete," Seven said, a touch of satisfaction in her voice. "Subspace conduit has collapsed."

"Exit coordinates verified," T'Shanik said. "Millennium has entered the Confederation. Standard greetings are being transmitted on all subspace communication channels."

"Stand by," Ro said. "We should receive a response eventually. Well done, people."

She wondered how long it would take before the Confederation noticed the sudden arrival of a Starfleet vessel in their space.

Near the end of their fourth year in the Delta Quadrant, Voyager had encountered a wormhole. To their disappointment, it did not lead home, but rather to the Beta Quadrant, in a sector of space further away from the Federation than where they were located in the Delta Quadrant. Despite that, Janeway was encouraged by her crew to take a chance on passing through the wormhole, for no other reason than to see what was on the other side. Since exploration for purely scientific purposes was a rare thing for the Intrepid-class vessel, the captain agreed, and Voyager was the first Starfleet vessel to dip its hull into all four quadrants. If things worked out as they hoped, Millennium would be the second.

On the other side of the wormhole, Voyager had encountered the Confederation StarScout vessel, StarRunner. The StarScouts were close to Starfleet in structure, and the similarity between the two cultures, with a species known as the Elthanians apparently fulfilling the role Humans had in the Alpha Quadrant, made the lost Voyager crew feel quite at home.

At the time, in fact, there was even some talk about remaining, of starting their lives anew as Confederation citizens, but in the end, Voyager returned through the wormhole with its crew intact. As attractive as the Confederation was, the crew still wanted to take their chances in the Delta Quadrant, still believed that their remarkable captain would somehow find a way to take them home. Their confidence in Janeway was not misplaced, and now, a few years later, some of them were back to renew ties with the gracious people who had befriended them.

Ro was put in mind of a particular StarScout captain who had been the first to encounter Voyager. Tazna Jade was a remarkable individual, tall, charming, very beautiful, and possessing the sort of demeanor that impressed even those fiercely loyal to Janeway. In fact, there had been more than a few rumors that the Elthanian First had been spending more than the appropriate amount of time with Seven, even though the Borg had been newly involved in a romantic relationship with the captain. Ro hadn't been in the loop at the time, so she didn't get all the details, but she wondered if B'Elanna had. Perhaps she would ask the chief engineer about it, now that they were back in this area of space.

She checked the console on the arm of the chair. "Seven, what's the status of the wormhole?"

Seven touched some controls on her science station. "There is no sign of it, Commander."

Ro nodded. So the Confederation had destroyed it after Voyager's departure, after all. It was probably a wise choice. There were some things on the other side of it, like Hirogen and Borg, which the Elthanians didn't want nor need stumbling into their space as the Federation vessel had.

"Commander?"

Ro glanced at ops. T'Shanik was looking over her shoulder at her. "We're being hailed."

"On screen."

The viewscreen flickered from the blackness of space to reveal an Elthanian male, quite handsome, with silver hair drawn back in a ponytail, and startling sapphire blue eyes. Two feathery antennae wafted from the inner corner of each eyebrow, and the pointed tips of his ears were similar to that of a Vulcan. He was a mythological elf come to life.

"This is the Confederation starship SilverStar, en route to your position, Breeden Welf, First in Command. Please identify yourselves."

"This is the USS Millennium, from the United Federation of Planets," Ro replied promptly. "We bring greetings and salutations to the people who aided one of our own five years ago. I am Commander Ro Laren, chief of security and third in command."

There was a pause as Breeden absorbed this, looking over as if receiving confirmation of data from someone else on his ship.

"The same Federation of Captain Kathryn Janeway?"

"She commands this vessel," Ro explained. "But due to the propulsion system we employed to reach this space, both the captain and the first officer are temporarily indisposed. Please be informed that we are here as official representatives of the Federation, hoping to open formal diplomatic ties with your Confederation."

Breeden looked extremely interested. "Understood, Millennium. We shall rendezvous with your position in approximately twenty-seven of your hours."

"We'll remain at station keeping at these coordinates," Ro confirmed. "Thank you, SilverStar." They could have set course toward them, cutting the time in half, but the SilverStar had not requested it, and any further intrusion into Confederation space without a specific invitation might have constituted an insult. Besides, the extra time would allow more recovery from the effects of sedation, particularly for those senior officers. The viewscreen flickered again, revealing deep space and unfamiliar constellations. Ro found herself looking into the eyes of the science officer who had half turned in her chair, observing the Bajoran quietly.

"So it begins," Ro offered.

Seven dipped her head. "So it does."

The real question, of course, was; where would it end?

Janeway swallowed hard and tried to focus on the Bajoran who was giving her report, gripping the arms of her command chair tightly. Her stomach was still churning, and the ginger ale, her regular remedy for the aftermath of a jump, wasn't doing its job with its customary efficiency. Either the jumps were becoming progressively worse, or three months since the previous one simply wasn't enough time to be fully prepared for the next.

"So this SilverSun is on its way here?"

"SilverStar," Ro corrected gently.

"Of course." Janeway swallowed again, bringing some of her steel determination to bear on her contrary innards, settling them down through sheer force of will. "Anything else?" Ro seemed to hesitate, and Janeway frowned. "Commander?"

"There was a medical emergency on deck three. Commander Kelly is recovering in sickbay."

"What happened?"

A muscle twitched in Ro's jaw, and the captain wondered if the Bajoran was angered or merely amused. "Apparently, Commander Kelly decided she didn't require sedation, even though she's Terran."

Janeway bit off the curse hovering on the tip of her tongue, knowing the bridge was not the place to indulge her sudden fury. "I see," she said coldly. "I'll be in sickbay, Commander Ro. You have the bridge."

"Aye, Captain."

Janeway fumed all the way down to deck eight. The anger chased away the last of her nausea and she blew into sickbay with the wrath of angels on her shoulders, fully prepared to teach Kelly exactly what it meant to go outside protocols on this vessel. The sight of the young woman lying on the biobed, her skin decidedly greenish, her eyes surrounded by dark circles and sunken into her head, stopped Janeway in her tracks. The young woman looked like death warmed over.

"Dear God, is she all right?"

Pulaski laughed, a short bark of amusement as she moved from her office to the captain's side. The older woman, hair snowy, wrinkles prominent in those classic features, seemed completely fresh, as if she had just risen from a nap rather than the heavy sedation required to go through a transition jump. Janeway, half Pulaski's age, knew a moment of honest disgruntlement at the comparison between how she felt and the Chief Medical Officer looked.

"She'll be fine. Sore, sick as a dog when she wakes up, but ultimately fine. Dr. Lewis is treating her."

"Where is he?"

"Off line. His duty shift ended when I came back."

Janeway glanced at her uncertainly. "You didn't turn him off?"

Pulaski lifted a brow, eyes gleaming at the thought. "If only I could," she said wistfully. "No, he turned himself off to get some 'rest'."

Janeway hesitated, and then looked back at her first officer lying on the bed, her mouth firming. "What on Earth possessed Kelly to do something so stupid?"

"I have no idea. I guess she didn't have a Borg wife around to prevent her from trying it."

The captain looked sharply at the doctor, stung by the reminder. On Millennium's initial jump into the Delta Quadrant, the captain decided to go without medication, certain that the warnings and recommendations didn't really apply to her. A stern lecture from both the doctor and her spouse, as well as Seven standing over her like a disapproving kindergarten teacher while the captain administered the hypospray, was not one of Janeway's prouder moments. She shifted her feet on the deck and tried to think of a proper rejoinder. The doctor, apparently realizing that she had won this round since the captain was lacking something to say, smiled slightly.

"How's Seven's rash?"

"The same." Janeway hesitated, then accepted the change of subject. "The jar of ointment you provided is almost empty."

"I'll get you some more." As Pulaski went into her office to retrieve another jar, Janeway followed her in.

"I have a question, Doctor. Why didn't you repair Seven's rash with a dermal regenerator? Why this archaic application of an external cream?"

Pulaski handed her the jar. "I have a better question for you, Kathryn. Why didn't Seven's nanoprobes heal the rash? Better still, why didn't they prevent her from having an allergic reaction in the first place?" Janeway stared at her, struck dumb, horror rising quick and strong within her. Pulaski must have read the alarm in her eyes because she immediately patted the captain's shoulder in a comforting manner, looking slightly regretful for the frivolous tone she had used.

"The ointment seems to be working quite well at blocking the itch," she added in a soothing tone. "I just want to see if Seven's natural immunity clears this up. If she still has it after another day, then we'll look into more extensive treatment, including replacing the epidermis."

Janeway firmed her jaw. "Is this indicative of something more serious?"

"I'm not sure," Pulaski said honestly. "It may be indicating that the nanoprobes are no longer programmed to heal non-life threatening conditions. It's perhaps another adaptation as Seven becomes more Human." She offered a small smile. "You can't have it both ways, Kathryn. You can't want her to develop her Humanity, and then become upset when she's subject to the same frailties all the rest of us are."

"I suppose you're right. You'll keep me updated?"

"I will, provided Seven wants me to."

Janeway frowned, but Pulaski was unmoved.

"As for Commander Kelly?"

"Yes?" The doctor regarded her inquiringly.

Janeway took another long look at the young woman. "As soon as she's fit to have visitors, let me know. I have a few things to say to her."

"I bet you do," Pulaski muttered, but she nodded. "I'll have Lewis contact you as soon as she's strong enough to face you."

That wasn't quite what Janeway had in mind, but she accepted it was the best she could hope for from the medical officer. Leaving sickbay, she stopped off briefly in her quarters to leave the extra jar of cream on the nightstand where Seven would find it, and then used her command code in the turbolift to take her directly to her ready room. There was a lot of work to be done between now and the next day when the Confederation ship arrived. Janeway doubted the crew of the SilverStar would be prepared to open formal diplomatic proceedings, but they would undoubtedly be ready to escort Millennium to those who were.

This wasn't the first time the captain had represented the Federation in diplomatic matters, but it was the first time that the civilization involved was this large and complex.  Janeway's primary responsibility was to convince the Confederation to allow Millennium's crew to construct an array, similar to the Pathfinder Project, in their space. The long-range communications grid would allow the Confederation and the Federation to speak directly, the diplomats handling the bulk of all future negotiations. It would also provide Millennium with a subspace relay that would keep the ship in closer touch with Starfleet than they had during their first mission into the Delta Quadrant.

All this would be much easier if her first officer had been in a position to assist, instead of flat on her back in sickbay. Janeway and Ro were suddenly forced to handle details for which Kelly would normally be responsible, and both worked long into the evening.

If Janeway hadn't been furious with the young woman before, she certainly was by the time she wearily entered her quarters at 0200 hours. It was fortunate the commander was tucked away safely in the ship's medical center. If the captain had encountered her while in this mood, there would be little left of Kelly for the doctors to treat.

Janeway began peeling off her uniform as soon as she stepped off the turbolift. Shrugging out of her tunic and sweater, she carried both draped over her arm as she detached the comm badge and pips. As she passed through the bedroom, she noted that Seven was already tucked cozily away for the night, sleeping peacefully on her side of the bed. Janeway bestowed a fond smile upon the slumbering Borg as she placed her pips on the nightstand and then finished undressing, running her uniform through the replicator before placing the clean and pressed outfit on the sink counter in the ensuite. She cleaned her teeth, threw on an oversized t-shirt, and moved back into the bedroom, slipping between the sheets. Seven's back was to her, prominently displayed, the sheet draped casually over the Borg's generous hips. The captain thought the rash was subsiding, no longer appearing as red or lumpy. Apparently, Seven's natural immunity was beginning to heal it just as the doctor had hoped it would. It still looked rather itchy, however.

Seven stirred, undoubtedly alerted to the captain's arrival, and Janeway immediately reached for the jar on the nightstand. "Stay still, darling," she instructed quietly.

Seven made a soft sound, but remained as she was while the captain applied another soothing layer of cream over her back, working it into the skin gently. "Thank you, Kathryn," the young woman whispered. "I had trouble earlier covering the entire surface area."

"That's why you got married, darling," Janeway told her with gentle humor. "So someone could take care of all those hard-to-reach places."

"Indeed." Seven waited until the captain was finished, and then carefully turned around so that she was facing her spouse. "A long day for you."

"Yes, and another one tomorrow." Janeway yawned as she moved into Seven's embrace. She kissed her tenderly and then rolled over so that Seven could wrap herself around her from behind. "I need to be fresh for that meeting with the Confederation ship. I should sleep until 0900."

"I will try to make sure you are not disturbed for anything less than an emergency," Seven assured her.

Janeway closed her eyes, trying to relax into this warm, pleasant place. She always felt so safe lying next to her spouse, so loved and cherished in these arms. It was an advantage that most starship captains lacked, and one that Janeway tried never to take for granted.

"I'm so glad you're here, darling." She could smell the delicate fragrance of the young woman, mild, with the faintest hint of metal. It was a familiar and comforting smell, filling Janeway with an incredible sense of peace.

"Where else would I be at this hour?"

"I meant in general." Janeway yawned again. "I'm so lucky to have you in my life."

Seven pulled the captain closer, nuzzling her hair. "It is I who is the fortunate one."

"The First Night party is planned for tomorrow evening in the Nexus," Janeway went on, thinking about the traditional ship event where new crewmembers and civilians had the opportunity to introduce themselves and get to know the established crew under social circumstances. "I thought I'd also invite some of the SilverStar crew and offer the officers from both ships a chance to mingle a little." She wasn't sure why she kept talking. She supposed it was part of settling down for sleep. She was tired but unable to relax completely, her mind swirling with plans of tomorrow and what still had to be done. "I'm not sure if we should go with dress whites in that event."

"Perhaps our dress whites should be saved for the more diplomatic occasions with the Confederation authorities," Seven suggested quietly. She knew what her spouse was doing, understood that she was unwinding verbally, and would willingly continue her part of the conversation until Janeway no longer responded. "Regular uniforms and civilian clothing have always been suitable for First Night parties. If you wish to provide a more elegant atmosphere, Kathryn, then you could stipulate that formal civilian attire be worn."

Janeway filed that away, too tired to pursue it. "That Breeden First is a good looking young man," she mumbled sleepily. "I noticed it when I reviewed the earlier transmission. His ship will rendezvous with us around 1400 tomorrow ... or is today already?"

"The Elthanians are generally an attractive people."

Janeway, reminded of the last Elthanian she had encountered and who had been far too interested in the young Borg, frowned slightly. "Just so long as he keeps his distance from you."

She could not see her face, but she could tell the Borg was smiling. "Go to sleep, Kathryn," Seven said with persuasive tenderness.

Janeway exhaled, drowsiness overcoming her, as if the order from her spouse was all she needed to let go of the last of the thoughts running around in her mind. Tomorrow was another day, and with any luck, she'd be able to accomplish all she needed to before the Confederation starship showed up and the real work began.

The Elthanian First was quite attractive. Seven watched with amusement as a group of Millennium's crew flocked around the alien commander holding court in the starship's main lounge. Tall, muscular beneath his green and brown uniform, yet displaying a certain type of grace, he apparently charmed women and men in equal measure. His Second, the equivalent to a Starfleet first officer, had just as many people buzzing around her. Seven found the whole thing quite fascinating. Years earlier, she had thought it symptomatic of Voyager's crew being drawn to the familiar civilization the Elthanians represented, but now she wondered if there was something about the aliens themselves that caused such an odd attraction.

"M'rrrowl."

Seven blinked and looked at Lenara Kahn who was standing beside her. The joined Trill was staring at the SilverStar's commander with what appeared to be predatory interest, and Seven was certain that the sound the scientist had made was quite animalistic.

"Lenara?"

"Why are they all so damned good looking?"

Seven lifted a brow. "Genetics? Some form of predisposition that simulates all the traits that Humans find attractive."

"Not just Humans," the Trill informed her, sipping her champagne.

"I have noticed that Vulcans hold the same fascination for some in the Federation," Seven continued with scientific dispassion. "As do Deltans and Betazeds."

"Deltans are ... well, Deltans," Lenara said. "Betazeds are telepathic and have a reputation for being very sensual. Vulcans offer a challenge. You know, once every seven years? Who wouldn't want to think they're sexy enough to bypass that."

"And the Elthanians?"

"Surely you've noticed how wonderful they smell. There are a lot of pheromones in the scent a body emanates. It's a natural mating lure."

Seven thought back to her interaction with Tazna Jade. There had been a fragrance around the woman, vaguely reminiscent of cinnamon and spice, of something more elemental beneath that. She had not really noticed it at the time, other than that it was present and part of the female's being, nor was she particularly affected by it. Seven frowned. Pheromones were something of which she had cause to be extremely leery.

"Or maybe, they just send out their best looking people," Lenara continued, eyeing the Elthanian Second, who's voluptuous proportions rivaled Seven's.

"Starship duty can be physically onerous," Seven noted. "It requires individuals to be fit and healthy. That is considered attractive in most species." She paused. "Why so interested in their physical attributes, Lenara?"

The Trill smiled, a sort of smile that Seven found unfamiliar, at least with this woman. "Let's just say that I'm through pining for what can never be," Lenara explained. "I'm willing to play the field a little bit."

"Ah." Seven was glad to hear it. When the Trill had first come on board Millennium, she had been desperately unhappy, despairing over a love that she had given up five years earlier. A love that could never be recaptured because the host, Jadzia, had died, though the symbiont, Dax, lived on in another. Fortunately, surrounded by good friends and shipmates on Millennium, the Trill had once again found her equilibrium. Seven supposed it was not unusual for her to also seek out romantic partners. For a time, she thought Lenara and the Doctor would make some kind of arrangement, though being involved with a hologram could prove to be futile in the long run. Then, there was some talk going around the lower decks of Lenara and the ship's first officer, the Cardassian/Bajoran hybrid, Zar Tulek. However, he had been awarded a promotion upon their return to the Federation, and had moved on to command his own vessel. Lenara offered no indication of wanting to follow him, or even missing him a great deal.

Seven glanced over at her spouse. Kathryn was currently in her most charming persona, mingling with the crowd and taking the time to speak with each member of the SilverStar crew attending the party. It had been decided that the StarScout vessel would escort Millennium to Hearthstone, a highly trafficked space station on the edge of Elthanian space that provided a central port for many of the species in the bordering sectors. There, Janeway would meet with Confederation officials and lay out the groundwork for the communications array. The captain appeared quite lively and bright, though Seven knew Janeway had received less than four hours of sleep the previous night, having been called from her bed at 0600 for a matter only the captain could handle. As far as the Borg knew, Janeway hadn't slowed down one iota since then.

"What are they doing?"

Seven blinked and glanced in the direction Lenara indicated. The Nexus had been altered for this reception, its usual nightclub-like atmosphere lightened considerably, while its bar had temporarily been transformed into a huge buffet. Paryk, acting as caterer rather than in his customary bartending role, kept the dishes full from the large replicators behind him. At the low dais near the dance floor, a group of crewmembers were assembling, each individual holding an instrument.

"I believe they are a band." The sound of music floated over the crowd, not the pounding beat normally heard in the lounge but something far more refined and classical.

"This will certainly keep the SilverStar crew busy. The crew are already filling up their dance cards." Lenara lifted her hand, palm up. "However, I claim the first few dances with you, Seven."

The Borg hesitated, glancing across the room. Janeway was completely involved in her conversation with the SilverStar's Healer. Besides, the captain had moved past her irrational jealousy of the Trill long ago. "Of course," she said graciously.

They moved out on the dance floor and began swaying to the music. Lenara was a rather good dancer, Seven discovered, though she had a propensity to lead. It made for a bit of awkwardness in the beginning, but eventually they worked it out. She was not surprised, however, when only a few minutes into their third dance, there was a tap on Lenara's shoulder.

"May I cut in?" Janeway smiled charmingly at the Trill. Since the captain had been dancing with Breeden, Lenara was not at all averse to switching partners, and moved off with the Elthanian First with some enthusiasm.

Seven took Janeway into her arms, feeling the captain sag a little. She pulled her close and supported her as they moved around the floor. "Kathryn?"

"I'm fine, darling." Janeway snuggled into the Borg's embrace. "I just need a moment or two."

"I understand." Seven brushed her lips along the captain's cheek, pausing by her ear. "You are very beautiful, tonight."

Janeway, outfitted in a shimmering dress of slate-blue, raised her head and smiled winningly at her. The lights of the lounge put highlights of pure fire in her auburn hair. "So are you, my love. I'm so glad you suggested we go with civilian attire."

Seven, garbed in a silver dress similar to the one she had once worn in a holoprogram when the ship had been taken over by Hirogen hunters, felt her cheeks warm with pleasure. The opinion of her spouse still meant so much to her, particularly when it came to her appearance. "This reception appears to be going well. The personnel, new and old, seem to be mingling very well, and the crew from the SilverStar are apparently satisfied with their reception."

"Yes." Janeway's gaze darkened. "It's too bad Kelly isn't here. She would benefit greatly from spending some time in more elegant surroundings than a Sabre-class mess hall. At the very least, she could be covering the bridge, and Ro could be here to monitor the situation directly."

Seven, who knew her spouse remained severely annoyed with the absent first officer, merely kissed her lightly on the ear and took her for another spin around the dance floor, delaying the moment when Janeway would have to become the diplomat once more.

But eventually she had to give up Janeway to one of the officers from the SilverStar. Dr. Lewis was nearby, ready to claim Seven as the music began again. The EMH had once tried to teach the Borg to dance, though he had much less luck with it than had the captain. He had taught the Borg to sing when the captain claimed she couldn't carry a tune in a bucket, and after hearing her spouse's attempts in the shower, Seven saw no reason to disagree with the assertion.

"You've come such a long way, Seven."

"Doctor?" Seven looked at him curiously, surprised to see he was regarding her with an expression of great fondness.

"I watched you out here with the captain, and I couldn't help remembering that Borg drone who first came on board Voyager. You would have found all this to be completely irrelevant, not to mention extremely annoying if forced to attend. Now, you fit in as if you had been doing it all your life."

Seven considered that. "We have both come a long way, Doctor," she told him as she allowed him to lead her about the dance floor.

Later, she thought about just how far as she undressed for bed, placing the silver dress carefully in the closet for another time. Moving into the bedroom, she brushed out her long, blonde hair, wondering if the Doctor felt as if he'd been left behind. Certainly, his progress had not been as advanced as hers, but then, Annika Hansen had always been a Federation citizen, even while she was Borg. The EMH had been forced to fight for every concession and right he had achieved.

She glanced in the full-length mirror that hung on one side of the room, noting that the last vestiges of her rash had finally disappeared. She would certainly not miss the itch or the greasy ointment she had been forced to use to counteract it. She was also aware that the captain was disturbed by the failure of Seven's nanoprobes to deal with the allergic reaction in a more timely manner, but the Borg suspected that the microscopic machines were merely responding to her own subconscious desires. She did have some control over her cortical implant, after all, and her wish to become more human was surely detected by its processing nodes as they programmed the nanoprobes. Still, minor skin inflammations and growing toenails were not exactly what she had in mind.

She slipped between the smooth sheets of her bed and lay on her back, looking up at the ceiling. Janeway was undoubtedly occupied with saying her farewells to the SilverStar crew. The hiss of the outer door made her smile and she shifted her eyes to the doorway, waiting as her spouse passed on her way to the ensuite. Time passed with agonizing slowness as Janeway completed her ablutions, but finally the captain joined Seven, flopping into bed beside her.

"God, I'm absolutely beat," Janeway murmured as she exhaled noisily. She had her hands over her eyes, her mouth slack.

<> Seven glanced at her with a certain amount of disappointment. Now that her rash had receded, the Borg had wanted to indulge in the same sort of activities that had caused it in the first place. Unfortunately, it appeared as if Janeway was truly exhausted. Sometimes, good things came to those who wait, the Borg reminded herself philosophically, calling on an adage that she had heard Gretchen use more than once. She would just have to be patient.

"Mmm, what are you thinking?"

Seven blinked, realizing that her partner had uncovered her eyes and was staring at her. The truth was on the tip of her tongue, but she knew if she said she was feeling amorous, Janeway would feel compelled to do something about it, as much a matter of pride as from wanting to keep her partner happy. Seven judged that Janeway was too tired to be intimate, so she leaned over and kissed her temple lightly.

"I love you, my Kathryn," she said softly, nuzzling her hair. "Good night."

"I love you, too, darling." The captain smiled and immediately wrapped her arms around the Borg's waist, pulling her close. "Your rash is much better. I noticed it at the dance. That dress went all the way down to here." She touched the base of Seven's spine, stroking lightly. "This doesn't irritate your skin?"

"Not at all." Seven inhaled deeply, enjoying the rich fragrance of her spouse. It took her a moment before she realized her partner was continuing to stroke her back, tracing the bone and muscle with light fingertips.

"And this?" Janeway asked in a throaty tone that the young woman recognized immediately.

Seven tried to pull back. "You need to sleep, Kathryn."

"I need to make love to my wife. Are you objecting?" Janeway kissed her passionately as she tightened her embrace. Then smiled and bit lightly at Seven's neck. "Particularly when I know you want me to so badly?"

Seven frowned. "I do not believe I indicated any such thing."

Janeway ran her hand down to the Borg's buttock, squeezing it provocatively.

"You just keep telling yourself that, darling," she said with a husky chortle. "I'm sure one of us will believe it ... eventually."

Kelly could not remember ever feeling so ill. It was clear the warnings and protocols set down regarding the transition jump had not been exaggerated. In fact, she was under the distinct impression that Starfleet Medical had underestimated the sheer awfulness of the effect on Terrans.

If only Janeway hadn't made her so angry. The captain had been insufferably condescending ever since the first officer came on board, and Kelly had felt an irresistible need to prove that she was a lot stronger and smarter than Janeway realized ... than Janeway was herself. Kelly couldn't imagine a captain who would cheerfully submit to sedation and let a subordinate officer take her ship through a crucial and delicate navigational process like the subspace jump to the Beta Quadrant.

Kelly wondered bleakly how strong and smart the captain thought her first officer was now?

"Commander."

Kelly didn't want to open her eyes. The room spun most unpleasantly whenever she did, and she wondered why TJS resembled a hangover. Actually, the most excruciating hangover she had ever experienced was shortly after graduating Starfleet Academy. This was five times worse, and acquiring it certainly wasn't as much fun as that drunken night spent with her fellow students in the downtown bars of Marsport.

"Doctor," she managed. Her voice was a rasp, painful against a throat made raw from vomiting.

"How are we feeling?"

Kelly wondered if the doctor was normally that irritatingly pleasant, or if he was just putting it on for the commander's benefit. If the latter, she wished he'd stop. "Awful."

"That's to be expected, I'm afraid. Maybe this will help."

Kelly was forced to open her eyes when the doctor held forth a glass full of some thick liquid. It was green and appeared repulsively slimy. Kelly felt her stomach turn over, though she doubted there was anything left to come up.

"Oh God, take it away."

"Don't be childish," Lewis insisted. "Drink it. I promise, it'll make you feel better."

Kelly eyed him suspiciously but accepted the glass. Holding her breath, she gulped it down, relieved when it didn't taste as bad as it looked. To her surprise, she actually did feel better once she had finished swallowing.

"Why not a hypospray?" she asked, handing the now empty glass back.

"That wouldn't do anything for your esophagus and throat." A sparse man, with penetrating eyes and a fringe of dark hair around a bald head, his manner was fussy, yet somehow reassuring at the same time. Kelly was glad he was attending her. The ship's chief medical officer frankly intimidated her, and it wasn't only the knowledge Pulaski was actually an admiral rather than a commander as indicated by the three pips she wore on this mission.

"How is she?"

Kelly felt a little queasy again as she saw the aforementioned CMO looming over Lewis's shoulder. He frowned and shrugged, as if trying to brush the admiral off. "Do you mind?"

"No," Pulaski said flatly. "It is my sickbay, after all."

"And this is my patient."

Pulaski bristled and then subsided, as if there were some kind of line implied by his words that couldn't be crossed. "I just want to know if she's well enough to talk. If so, you have to report it to the captain."

Kelly felt like throwing up again, and the sympathetic glance the doctor threw in her direction did not quell the feeling.

"Why not ask her, then, instead of acting like she's not even here?"

Pulaski didn't roll her eyes, but Kelly had the impression she wanted to. The CMO looked forbiddingly down at the young woman. "Are you ready to get up, Commander?"

"I think so, Doctor," Kelly said meekly. She had a great respect for medical personnel after passing through more than a few MASH units on the Dominion front. The work the medical personnel had performed to keep countless wounded Starfleet officers alive had left a lasting impression on anyone who witnessed it firsthand.

Sitting up gingerly, Kelly clasped the sheet around her, realizing only then that she was naked. She wondered where her uniform was, and then suspected it had probably been cut off her, soiled as it was. She felt a flush of humiliation run through her, suspecting she'd never be able to fully recover from this stain on her reputation of being as tough as nails.

Pulaski seemed to notice her unease and nudged Lewis with her elbow. He hesitated, and then nodded, moving over to a nearby replicator. He brought back a uniform, complete with pips and a comm badge.

"The captain wants to have a word with you," Pulaski told her as she dressed.

"I'll bet she does," Kelly muttered.

The older woman's eyes narrowed as the flippant tone. "Can you blame her? Because of your lack of foresight, Lewis was busy helping you when he would normally be monitoring the ship for real emergencies. Not to mention the fact that..."

"Don't you have something else to do?" Lewis interrupted brightly. "Since you're a doctor and not the captain."

Pulaski shot him a look that would have seared flesh if it could, but she subsided. "The captain wants to see you in her ready room immediately," she said shortly and headed for her office.

Kelly would like to have showered and rid herself of the harsh, medicinal scents clinging to her body, but she suspected that delaying her appearance would only compound her transgressions in the captain's eyes. Undoubtedly, the CMO would alert Janeway that the first officer was finally up and around. Swallowing hard, Kelly headed for the turbolift, instructing it to take her to the bridge. There, she discovered Ro Laren holding the conn. The Bajoran turned the command chair around in order to observe Kelly as she crossed from the lift to the doors of the ready room.

"Go right in," Ro said, not unkindly, as the first officer reached for the admittance chime. "She's expecting you."

Kelly did so, coming to a stop in front of the captain's desk, stiffening to attention. This time, Janeway did not ask her to take a seat. Instead, she stared at her with an expression on her face that Kelly was hard-pressed to identify. It was midway between exasperation and a sort of weary patience, as if Kelly was a particularly balky child. The young woman felt resentment at the condescension surge strong within her, and she had to force it back so that it wouldn't display itself in her face.

"I understand you fancied yourself as some kind of a captain, Kiara," Janeway said finally, in a very mild tone that Kelly knew couldn't be truly indicative of what the captain was feeling.

"Yes, Captain," Kelly said, managing to remember Janeway's preference in terminology. Her satisfaction in pricking that pompous directive during their first encounter hadn't lasted long. Being referred to as Number One in the tone Janeway used was oddly worse than any demeaning name bestowed upon her by previous commanding officers. "I commanded the USS Grissom on the Breen Border for two years."

Janeway contemplated that, her jaw moving slightly, as if she were chewing over the words she was about to say. "Then perhaps you could tell me what you would do if, through sheer thoughtlessness, one of your officers deprived the ship of his services for four days."

Kelly inhaled sharply. She hadn't realized it had been that long. "I guess I would have to strip him of rank and throw him in the brig," she managed to respond.

Janeway lifted a brow slightly. "I suppose you would," she said dryly, in a way Kelly didn't like at all. "That would be the easiest method for dealing with this. However, it isn't a very pragmatic solution over the long term. I'd need security monitoring you constantly. I'd have to make sure you're fed and exercised at reasonable times. And the regulations for prisoner care even require that a certain amount of entertainment be provided for you. A year is a long time to have to carry around that kind of useless personnel, don't you think?"

"Yes, ma'am." Kelly could feel her heart pounding in her chest. She wondered if the captain could hear it. Surely, she could see the vein throbbing in her neck.

"There's always the nearest airlock, of course."

Janeway's tone was completely casual as she threw that out. Kelly's eyes widened, despite her best effort to remain impassive. She knew a captain's word was law in space. Technically, Janeway would be completely within her rights to space anyone she deemed a threat to the ship, and answer for it later to a Board of Inquiry ... not that the findings of such a board would do the person being spaced much good. It was a joke of sorts around Starfleet, and obviously, the captain had meant it that way, but at the moment, Kelly didn't find it particularly amusing.

"I do have one question."

"Yes, ma'am."

"What possessed you to refuse the medication? Surely you'd been informed that the transition jump had adverse effects on Humans born on Earth."

Kelly swallowed. "Yes, Captain, but I haven't been on Earth for almost ten years ... not including the meeting with Admiral Nechayev prior to being assigned to the Millennium. I believed that such long-term distance would be enough for me to withstand the effects." She faltered. "I had planned to administer the hypospray if the symptoms became too severe but ... I couldn't reach it when the seizures began."

<> Janeway turned her computer console slightly. Kelly couldn't see what she was reading. "Apparently your bodily fluids managed to reach just about everything else as you thrashed about. It took Maintenance twelve hours to completely restore your quarters to their previous state."

There wasn't much Kelly could say to that, though she felt the deep sting of humiliation once more settling deep into her abdomen like acid eating away the lining of her stomach.

"You also occupied the attention of a medical team during a crucial stage of the jump when they should have been monitoring the well-being of the crew as a whole. Commander Ro has been forced to fill in for you, in addition to her regular duties, making for some very long days. That's a responsibility she's prepared to accept at any time, of course, but for her to have to do so because of a selfish, short-sighted decision made by someone who was supposedly informed and just didn't pay attention, is quite annoying to me."

"Yes, ma'am."

Janeway exhaled and leaned forward, her hands folded neatly on the desk as she peered at Kelly intently. "I supposed what it's proved is that your judgement is somewhat suspect. I don't know that I can trust you in the position you're in."

Kelly stiffened her jaw. She would love to be back on the Breen border where her crew not only trusted her, they did so with their lives, but all she said was "yes, ma'am" again, for what seemed like the hundredth time. She hated the fact that she felt so small, that Janeway was making her feel this way for what was no more than a command decision that hadn't quite panned out. No one was hurt but Kelly. She took full responsibility for that. Surely the high and mighty Janeway had made her share of mistakes.

Of course, a proper, stick-up-her-ass commander like Janeway probably hadn't moved an inch away from protocol during her entire career, being strictly by-the-book from day one. It was her type that had been killed off so early in the war, and worse, had taken a good portion of their crew with them. In fact, a captain with a demeanor similar to Janeway's had been Kelly's first CO. After Captain Felicity Cartwright and most of her senior staff had been killed during an imprudent skirmish with a Cardassian dreadnaught, Kelly and the rest of her security squad had made it to the bridge, managed to restore main power, elude the patrolling Jem'Hadar fighter and return to port, saving the rest of the crew trapped deep in the vessel's engineering section. Kelly had been promoted to lieutenant for that, but the cost, in her opinion, had been far too high.

Janeway was the last type of commander Kelly wanted to serve under or certainly ever wanted to be.

"For some reason, Starfleet thinks you deserve a chance." Janeway pursed her lips. "I suppose it's up to me to see that you get it. But I warn you, Commander Kelly, another mistake like this, and I'll seriously have to consider relieving you of duty, or at least, demoting you to somewhere where you won't do any harm. Is that clear?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Janeway exhaled. "Relieve Ro at the conn. She needs some rest." She dipped her head. "Dismissed."

Kelly turned on her heel, intent on walking out with her head held as high as she could. Despite her outward demeanor, inside she was shaking like a leaf in a windstorm, absolutely furious. It wasn't until she accepted the conn from the security chief that she realized Janeway hadn't raised her voice once in the ready room, always maintaining the well-bred, modulated tone of Victorian prissiness that her first commanding officer had possessed.

Kelly wondered what kind of sorry-assed officer was impressed by it.Janeway sipped her coffee, trying to quiet her temper and bring it down to a simmer as opposed to its current rapid boil. Honestly, she had no idea what it was about Commander Kelly that grated on her last nerve, but if she didn't get it reined in soon, she was bound to say or do something imprudent, when what she really wanted was to be in complete control. The chime of her door made her jump, and some coffee slopped over the edge of the china cup, splashing on the saucer.

"Damn it." She dabbed ineffectually at her sleeve that had caught some of the random droplets. "Come."

Ro Laren entered the ready room, regarding the captain expectantly.

"You're off duty, Commander," Janeway said shortly. "Go get some sleep while you can. We'll be at Hearthstone in a couple of days, and there'll be no time for rest for either of us."

"Captain, if I may, I'd suggest the same thing for you." For Ro, it was a very daring comment, but the captain wasn't in the mood to pay attention to it.

"Is that what you came in here to tell me?"

The Bajoran lifted a brow. "No, I actually came in to ask if you and Seven would be our guests for dinner."

Janeway blinked. "Tonight?"

Ro winced slightly. "That would require B'Elanna or I to cook, and I don't believe that's a particularly good idea. We were thinking about when we arrive at Hearthstone. We'd like to treat you both to a really extravagant meal, the best they have."

Janeway leaned on her elbow, regarding Ro intently. "Thank you," she said finally, her anger temporarily waylaid by the unexpected invitation. Since Ro had reported for duty, she had been more open toward the captain,friendlier and even sociable to a certain extent, though the reticent Bajoran was never going to be effusive. Janeway wondered what the security officer had learned about herself to make her act this way. Perhaps the captain would have Seven ask B'Elanna about it. She'd have to be subtle about it, though. Seven had learned discretion over the years, though it had required some hard lessons at times.

"And I'm curious."

Janeway blinked. "About?"

"I know you must have done something about Kelly, but she didn't seem particularly scorched when she came out ... merely annoyed."

Janeway felt her jaw clench. That was the last thing she needed to hear. Perhaps she had been far too contained while dealing with the woman, overcompensating when what she really wanted to do was pick Kelly up by the scruff of her neck and toss her ass into the brig. "Well, that's just perfect."

"You know, Captain, maybe you were correct. Maybe she does need a friend in the senior staff."

"To gang up on me?" Janeway's tone was sour.

Ro smiled faintly. "To figure out how she perceives you. I mean, with all due respect, Captain, your reasonable little lectures can peel the paint off a bulkhead. If it had no effect on her, then it has to be because she doesn't know exactly what she's dealing with."

"I'm her commanding officer," Janeway barked, and was immediately embarrassed to have shown that much anger to her security chief. "She should respect that if nothing else."

"In the Starfleet we know, then yes, but I wonder if that's the same Starfleet she's familiar with." Ro tilted her head. "A lot of things changed during the war. Not only are the ranking officers a lot younger, they saw and did some really horrible things. Subtlety can become lost on them."

Janeway, confronted with this differing perspective, took a moment to consider it. "Perhaps you're right, Commander." She lifted her eyes to meet the Bajoran's dark gaze. "Maybe I do need to find more about what makes her tick."

"I'll speak with her, Captain. It's possible that she won't feel as ... threatened by me."

"Frankly, Laren, I'd be thrilled if she were threatened by me. That would be an improvement over the ... lack of respect I sense from her. I have no idea where it's coming from."

"I'll find out."

Janeway thought about it for a moment, then nodded. "All right," she said, hoping she wouldn't have cause to regret it.

As she returned to her quarters, she was disappointed to discover that Seven wasn't home yet, undoubtedly working on settling in the new members of her science department and developing the organizational structure for this second year of exploration. Falling back onto an old remedy, the captain went into the ensuite where she drew a hot bath, filling the large, lavish tub that was her one concession to luxury on board Millennium. Various oils and salts were added with the precision of a chemist creating an explosive compound, and after lighting a few candles, retrieving a glass of wine, and programming a selection of low music over the speakers, Janeway slipped into the silky water with a sigh of pure bliss. This never let her down, she thought. Stress didn't stand a chance against this kind of pampering.

That was how Seven found her when the Borg finally returned home. Standing in the doorway of the ensuite, hands linked behind her back, Seven observed her spouse with quiet pleasure. Janeway, leaning back against the smooth surface of the tub, gradually became aware of the scrutiny and opened her eyes lazily.

"Hello, darling."

"You look very comfortable, Kathryn."

"Oh, I am." Janeway stretched her arms above her head, feeling the trickles of moisture slide sensually down her skin. She eyed her partner measuringly. "Care to join me?"

Seven smiled briefly. "I fear you have been in there long enough. Your fingers have become wrinkled."

Janeway sighed and examined her fingertips as Seven disappeared. Before long, delicious scents wafted from the direction of the living area, tickling the captain's nostrils and luring her from the haven of hot water. After wrapping herself in a fluffy, terrycloth robe, she slipped her feet into fuzzy slippers and shuffled out to the living area where Seven already had the table set and dinner prepared. Janeway didn't mind replicated fare for a change. Seven's programming skills were still vastly superior than any other source of nutrition on the ship, certainly better than her own.

After dinner, Janeway continued her favorite methods of easing stress by moving into the bedroom with an old fashioned book, curling up under the covers as she perused the adventures of a feisty young woman in 17th Century England and a pirate captain who was intent on capturing her heart, along with various other parts of her anatomy. Seven found such literature puerile, but accepted her partner's taste in reading material in much the same manner that Janeway viewed the various sculptures decorating their quarters: with amused tolerance. While Janeway read, the Borg caught up on some personal projects at the workstation. She strolled into the bedroom just as Janeway finished a particularly steamy passage involving heaving bosoms, throbbing shafts and lots of warm, wanton womanhood ablaze with fevered passion.

The Borg paused at the foot of the bed as Janeway's eyes lit upon her, accurately judging the expression in her spouse's gaze. Without saying a word, Seven slowly began to remove her uniform, dropping each item of clothing deliberately on the deck and lingering briefly before going onto the next. A slow smile spread across Janeway's face as she tossed the book aside on the nightstand and leaned back against the pillows, observing the striptease with considerable enjoyment and anticipation.

This was her favorite stress reliever of all.

"What is it you wish me to be tonight?" Seven asked when she finished undressing, standing completely nude before the captain.

"Your lovely self will be more than fine, darling."

"Not a pirate captain or the kidnapped damsel?"

"Were you reading my book?"

"It is not necessary to read it," Seven said with a touch of disdain as she crawled onto the bed from the bottom, her narrow features altered into something predatory, causing a thrill to resonate throughout the captain. "The cover image is quite indicative of what it is about."

Janeway slipped her arms around Seven's neck, drawing her down onto her and capturing her mouth in a passionate kiss that would match and supercede any described in her novel. Seven settled onto her with a light pressure, her body warm even through the blankets that suddenly felt too restrictive.

"Umph, Seven, the sheets."

Seven rose briefly and abruptly the bedding was on the other side of the room, leaving Janeway lying exposed on the mattress. The captain's t-shirt soon followed, in three separate pieces. That was why the captain had given up wearing delicate sleepwear and silk nightgowns, tired of choosing one with an eye for feminine appeal only to have it end up in tatters. It wasn't even Seven's fault. The captain usually lost her head in the heat of the moment and demanded the Borg remove the garment as expeditiously as possible. The t-shirts were much easier to tear and took less of the ship's energy to replicate.

Seven straddled the captain, pinning her to the bed as she correctly assessed her mood and determined that Janeway wanted her to be aggressive this night. Her juncture rested on Janeway's loins, and the captain could feel the wet heat of it moistening her triangular mat of auburn hair. Running her hands restlessly over Seven's thighs, she felt the soft skin over firm muscles that flexed as the Borg undulated slightly, stimulating herself. Looking up at her, Janeway was struck by the sheer beauty of her spouse, of the intent expression on her narrow features, the blonde hair falling loose over her shoulders like a golden waterfall.

She inhaled sharply as Seven covered the captain's breasts with her hands, teasing the tips with her palms. Janeway's lips parted, mouth open as she arched, pressing into the caress, her nipples hardening with almost painful intensity.

"Kiss me," she demanded breathlessly.

Seven smiled and leaned down, covering her mouth possessively, kissing the captain as hard as she could without hurting her. Janeway tangled her hands in the Borg's hair, holding her head to her, her tongue exploring Seven's mouth deeply, suddenly needing her so much, it made her feel faint. Seven released her mouth and began to trail down her body, pausing at the captain's breasts to lick and suck them, tonguing the nipples roughly. Janeway tolerated it for as long as she could, the sensation deliciously maddening, and then touched the Borg's cheek, urging her downward.

Seven smiled, turning her head to briefly kiss the captain's fingertips, and then nibbled a delicate trail over Janeway's stomach, spearing her navel briefly with the stiffened tip of her tongue. Janeway squirmed and moaned, responding to the young woman as Seven parted the captain's legs with firm hands, her breath a searing rush of air over the sensitive flesh, alerting it to the delight that would follow.

Clenching her fists, Janeway covered her eyes with her forearms as Seven tasted her, the young woman's tongue probing firmly, then laving the captain lovingly, alternating long, slow strokes with darting flutters over the sensitive nodule that swelled beneath the provocative caress. Seven's strong hands cupped Janeway's buttocks, holding her off the bed as she continued the loving assault. Suddenly, the Borg found that magic combination of oral manipulation that drove Janeway completely over the edge. Tensing, the captain cried out, the sound muffled by her arms, shuddering as the pleasure rippled through her body.

Inhaling deeply, Janeway felt the tremors subside as Seven let her go, moving up to find the captain's mouth and kissing in the way she knew her spouse needed to be kissed in that moment. Tasting herself on the Borg's lips was incredibly arousing, and Janeway reached down with her right hand, sliding it between their bodies to touch Seven, unsurprised by the lavish moisture she discovered that covered her fingers with silky essence. Seven groaned quietly and pressed against the captain's hand, increasing the contact.

"Look at me."

Janeway's tone was soft but compelling. Seven raised her head with helpless passion, captured by the captain's intent gaze, boring into the brilliant blue irises. Janeway watched as the young woman's eyes grew darker, the pupils expanding, becoming more unfocused as her fondling of Seven steadily increased in both tempo and firmness of stroke. Finally, it became too much for the Borg and she closed her eyes, her head falling back.

"Kathryn," she said, the word a hiss through clenched teeth. The sinews in Seven's neck were taut cords of tension, her jaw quivering as the spasms rippled through her. Her right arm, curved around Janeway's shoulders, pulled the captain to her, while the other, bracketing Janeway, palm flat on the sheet, pressed deeply into the mattress.

Janeway rode it out, squeezed against the lanky body of her spouse, her fingers never stopping in their tender regard as she guided her partner through her climax. Finally, Seven released her and the captain took a deep breath as the Borg relaxed against her side, her head falling onto Janeway's shoulder.

"Kathryn." A whisper, almost lost against the warm skin of the captain's neck.

Janeway hugged her, cherishing this brief moment of togetherness when she knew the Borg was completely hers, mind, body and soul.

Leaving Seven lying bonelessly on the sheet, Janeway slipped off the bed to retrieve the blankets, hauling them back to drape over the couple who curled together in the center of the mattress. Seven pulled the captain close, nuzzling her neck.

"That was most wonderful, Kathryn."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it." She cupped Seven's cheek, kissing her tenderly. "You're so beautiful at that moment, so very vulnerable."

"So are you," Seven told her with a touch of amusement. "I believe that if any of the crew saw you just then, they would finally know the true Kathryn."

"Then, it's a good thing they can't. There are entirely enough people on this ship who want to challenge my authority."

Seven considered the words, so lightly said, but suspecting a deeper meaning. "Who is challenging you, Kathryn? Commander Kelly?"

Janeway was silent, as if regretful that she had revealed that much. "I don't want to go into that now, darling," she said finally. "We're still working things out and it isn't appropriate for me to discuss it with you."

Seven considered that. The note in her partner's voice was the sort that was very specific. She wasn't going to talk about it and pressing her would only make her angry without providing the information Seven required. "Very well, Kathryn."

Janeway lifted her head, eyeing her speculatively. "I'm more curious about someone else."

"Who?"

"Ro Laren. I've noticed that she's been a lot more relaxed and forthcoming since returning to Millennium."

"That is to be expected." Too late, Seven realized that was exactly what her partner had been fishing for: an indication that the Borg knew what was going on. She squeezed her partner admonishingly and Janeway laughed softly.

"Well?"

Seven exhaled audibly. "B'Elanna tells me that Laren felt as if she had let you down regarding the investigation with Peter Martin," she revealed. "When you spoke with her on Mars, you indicated failure, or even the perception of failure, was not the important thing. It was in the attempt that a person is judged. Ro deemed that very significant. B'Elanna also helped her realize that the aspects of the case where she felt she had failed, were those where she operated on her own, such as interpreting information, or going after the perpetrator in the Gamma Hangar."

Janeway's expression became pensive. "Ro isn't an investigator.  Not like Tuvok, or someone in Starfleet Intelligence. She's wonderful at gathering information. She's wonderful at acting on it when she knows what it indicates, but she's not as good at interpreting it, not like you and B'Elanna. You two can look at information and intuitively understand what it means and what the best way to handle it would be. That's not a failing in Ro, it's just a unique gift that you and B'Elanna share. I should have involved both of you in the investigation sooner."

"Perhaps." Seven thought about it. "Laren needed to learn how to call on all her resources, including her crewmates and her superiors. B'Elanna believes that Ro finally understands she is a part of a larger whole, not just intellectually but in her ... I believe B'Elanna referred to it as her 'gut'. It was that understanding that allowed her to return to this vessel." She studied her spouse's face. "Your visit to her was very important, Kathryn. Ro needed to know you believed in her. She needed to believe in herself. What concerns me is that on Millennium, we become so isolated by virtue of our various departments. I rarely work in engineering, B'Elanna rarely has the opportunity to pursue scientific endeavors, and Ro does not have the opportunity to do either, yet we each have abilities that would be useful in areas other than where we ordinarily function."

"That's how the chain of command works," Janeway said quietly. "You've each become the head of your respective specialties. That added responsibility prevents you from doing everything that you could on Voyager."

"But those traits, the ability to be more than just an ordinary officer in a single specialty, is why we were placed in positions of authority." Seven was honestly confused. "Would it not be more prudent to leave us in positions where our unique abilities can be applied to any problem at any time?"

Janeway was silent for a long moment. "I don't know," she said finally. "Maybe you're right. Maybe that's the inherent flaw in the chain of command. As you go up the ladder, the less freedom you have in applying your skills. Instead, you're expected to pass on those skills to others, to direct those who serve you to apply their abilities in the same way you would."

"Is there no way to have both?"

"I'm not sure." A muscle jumped lightly in Janeway's jaw. "I'll have to think about it. You're right when you say the ship is deprived of your skills in certain areas simply because of the way it was structured. I can't believe that's good for us. Yet, that's the way it's always been." She dropped her head to Seven's shoulder. "Of course, Starfleet hasn't encountered anyone like you before. Having you around makes me the most fortunate captain in the fleet, and it's not just for your unique abilities." Idly, she reached up and cupped Seven's breast, holding it in her hand as if weighing it, evaluating its texture and firmness.

"Is that one of other reasons?"

Janeway blinked and then laughed sheepishly. "I'm sorry. I guess my hand isn't quite connected to my brain."

Seven pressed into the warm grasp. "So your body is responding to something other than our conversation?"

"Exactly," Janeway squeezed gently and thumb rubbed over Seven's nipple, teasing it lightly. The Borg shivered as the sensation tingled through her and the captain smiled faintly, studying her partner's face. "You love it, though, don't you?"

"I love that it is you who makes me feel this way," Seven whispered. "I love that you can affect me so powerfully ... so easily ... with just a touch."

"I love it, too." Janeway lifted her head and Seven closed the distance between them, kissing slowly, passionately. "I love that you can't get enough of me and that I can't get enough of you ... even after all this time."

Seven smiled and kissed her again, her hands roaming over the captain's body as they made love once again, feeling as if her life was absolute perfection. It was a feeling that carried over into the next day as she worked in her lab. Lenara noticed the attitude of the normally restrained Borg as they went over the projected astrometric charts, and offered her a nudge, smiling faintly.

"I'm guessing that you had a very good evening with the captain?"

Seven did not blush, but she did offer the Trill a penetrating look. "I did."

The scientist looked faintly envious. "I can always tell," she explained as she input more data into her viewscreen. "You walk around as if the gravity has been adjusted to much less than Earth normal."

Seven was somewhat disconcerted. "I was unaware I was so obvious."

"Well, maybe not to everyone, but I think I've come to know you well over this past year."

"As I have come to know you." Seven eyed her, deciding to turn the conversation back on the Trill. "If you are ready for a romantic relationship again, have you someone in mind?"

A small smile touched Lenara's lips, the Trill well used to Seven's abrupt changes in subject. "Perhaps," she allowed. "Or perhaps I'm just ready for the physical aspects of a relationship, and anyone will suffice as long as they have some idea of what needs to be done in the bedroom."

Seven lifted a brow but didn't respond to that, unsure what was appropriate. She was used to B'Elanna being prurient. She had not expected it of the statuesque, cultured Trill. Of course, the most urbane person she knew could be as profane as anyone, especially when an accessory was involved.

The women worked a while longer, refining the charts and drawing up new ones.

"I heard an interesting rumor," Lenara said after the companionable silence had stretched into a secondary project.

"Indeed." Seven was not entirely paying attention because she was fascinated by a spatial anomaly revealed in the long-range sensors. She wondered if the Confederation would allow Millennium to study it. Or perhaps, they had already studied it in full and would share that knowledge with Seven's science department.

"Yes, I heard that there's someone in the Confederation whom you're looking forward to seeing again."

The inflection in the words was enough to make Seven turn her head, meeting the Trill's inquisitive gaze. "Are you referring to Tazna Jade?"

"Is that her name? I just heard that you were hot and heavy with some StarScout First. So much so that you were going to leave Janeway."

Seven never failed to be astonished by the speed in which gossip and innuendo could materialize and grow on a starship. She even found use for it on occasion. She was less pleased when the rumors concerned her personal life.

"Tazna Jade was First in Command of the vessel Voyager encountered after using the wormhole leading to the Delta Quadrant," Seven confirmed. "She is a most impressive individual, and we enjoyed spending time together. That interaction ended however, when she indicated she wished a more intimate relationship, one I could not offer because I was already involved with the captain."

"Oh." Lenara seemed surprised that she had received so much information in such a relatively concise form. "I'm sorry, Seven. I didn't mean to pry."

Seven stared at her, bemused at such a blatant falsehood. Lenara read her expression and had the grace to blush. "Fine, I was prying," she admitted sheepishly. "It's just that you and the captain seem so good together that I find it hard to believe that you were ever with anyone else."

"I was not with anyone else. I enjoyed Tazna Jade's company, but I was not attracted to her. I have nev..."

Seven paused. What she had been about to say was not entirely true. She had briefly been attracted to B'Elanna on a purely physical level, and if she were to be completely honest, she also found Lenara aesthetically pleasing at times. Had she been a little more advanced in her development at the time, she might also have been attracted to the Elthanian, or at least, understood Tazna Jade's behavior toward her a little better. She suspected if she revealed that much, however, it would unnecessarily complicate the explanation of a situation that did not really exist.

"Jade was attracted to me, but was quite gracious when informed that I was romantically involved with the captain to the exclusion of all others."

Lenara offered a smile. "What do you suppose makes you so attractive to so many people, Seven?"

<> Seven evaluated the tone and decided the Trill was teasing her."My mind," she responded calmly. "So many individuals have claimed it is my mind that attracts them to me."

"I'm sure that's it." Lenara smiled faintly, as if amused by something.

Seven suspected it was because the Trill thought the Borg was taking her question literally. Associating with B'Elanna, however, had taught the Borg to give as good as she got. Rising from the chair, having completed the final notations in the file, Seven logged off. "However," she added as she passed behind the Trill on her way to her office, "I am certain it is actually my breasts. It is not my skull that is so often examined from all angles with increasing intensity, but rather, the structure and size of my mammary glands."

She strolled into her office, a small smile playing over her lips at the expression she had seen in Lenara's eyes. She wondered if her sudden enjoyment in keeping people off guard was something she had learned from her spouse.

And what use she could find with the trait if she only developed it a little further.Kelly entered the ship's main gym, hoping to work off some stress. She knew there were two holodecks and several individual holosuites on this vessel, but those were an incredible luxury that still made her uncomfortable. During the war, the only time one saw a hologram was during a rare leave, when officers partook of the illicit holosuites at the closest civilian port. The locals weren't always glad to see them either, irrationally blaming their presence for the problems with the Dominion, as if it was Starfleet's fault the Founders had this need to take over every piece of space they encountered. Of course, the few times an officer had a chance at a holosuite, 'working out' wasn't exactly high on the list of activities.

Wrapping her hands, she began to warm up, using a skip rope slowly at first, and then steadily increasing the pace until it seemed as if she weren't even touching the floor. Moving on to the small bag hovering in an alcove, she began punching rapidly, over and over again until sweat ran into her eyes. Next, she moved to the larger bag, alternating her punches with kicks that impacted solidly, raising dust. As she sank into the rhythm of her workout, she began to feel some of the tension ease from her shoulders and temples. Sweat pooled freely at the small of her back and between her breasts, trickling down her abdomen. Her hair grew lank, sticking to her flushed cheeks, her respiration moving deeply and easily, pushing away the anger and frustration.

She was so involved that it took a few moments to realize she was no longer alone. On a nearby weight bench, the chief of security was adjusting the single bar that rested on the supports. As soon as the bar was programmed with the desired weight, Ro began to bench press it with a smooth, even motion. Kelly watched her out of the corner of her eye. She had been introduced to all the senior staff, of course, but because of her unfortunate four-day absence, she hadn't had much of a chance to speak with any of them outside of the bridge.

Ro Laren was slender, with a dancer's body, but there was a way she moved that put Kelly in mind of the agents she had met during the war, individuals dispatched by Starfleet Intelligence to go behind the lines and find out what they could about enemy positions. They were walking death, capable of dispatching a Jem'Hadar soldier in a variety of ways. Kelly felt a little sorry for Ro, suspecting that being in charge of maintaining the safety of the ship and crew was the hardest job of all on the vessel. Kelly was certain that Janeway was the sort of captain who would ignorantly blunder into trouble and demand her senior staff get her out of it. It was a scenario the first officer had seen far too many times on the front lines.

The two women finished their activities at the same time, taking a moment to rest. Kelly began unwinding her hands as Ro sat up smoothly and took a drink from a nearby water bottle. Kelly realized she had been observing covertly for too long when the Bajoran's eyes met hers. Ro lifted the bottle.

"Drink?" she asked shortly.

Kelly nodded briefly. "Thanks," she said, taking a long swallow, enjoying how the cool water made a pleasant trail down her throat. She handed the bottle back, wishing she could think of something to say, never finding much use for small talk and believing the other woman was the same. Yet, Kelly knew she had to start fitting into this crew, had to start developing alliances and establishing herself as the ship's first officer. Even if she didn't like the captain much, she had a responsibility to Starfleet to do the job as best she could.

"I understand you saw quite a bit of action," Ro ventured, reaching for a towel from a nearby dispenser and wiping the sweat from her face.

"A little," Kelly said with practiced carelessness. "Where were you attached?" The standard query to any security officer. The response, however, was not.

"On Voyager, in the Delta Quadrant." There was a slight curve to Ro's lips, almost as if she were amused at something. "I was a member of the Maquis crew before Janeway brought me back into the fold."

Kelly felt somewhat stupid. She would have known that had she had more time to go over the crew roster in detail. As it were, she was still struggling to match names with faces, as well as figure out where they were located in the chain of command. "I guess you missed all the fun."

Ro's eyebrow slowly lifted. "Is that what you think?" she said mildly. "Remind me to introduce you to a Hirogen sometime."

"Hirogen?"

"Predator species that like gathering trophies from their kill. A Hunter could take apart a Jem'Hadar with one hand and use the other to polish the mantle in preparation for its skull." Ro's tone was so matter of fact that Kelly didn't think she was exaggerating. It gave her pause for thought. "Fortunately, they tended to hunt most of the time as individuals or in pairs rather than in organized packs."

"Oh." Kelly had dismissed Voyager as not being involved in the Dominion War, but had not really considered what its crew might have faced out in the Delta Quadrant. "Run into many?"

"A few times." Ro shrugged slightly. "Once, a pack took over the ship. We were lucky to get it back."

Kelly tried to imagine the battle that took place to engineer that. Since she had no idea what a Hirogen looked like, it was somewhat difficult.

"Maquis, huh?"

Ro smiled faintly. "Yeah. When it was determined that we were stranded, it was decided that we should team up with the Federation vessel as our best chance at getting home. It took almost seven years to find a way back."

"Guess you didn't think much of the senior officers that got you stuck there."

"I'm not sure they had much choice in the matter," Ro said evenly. She took another drink of water, studying Kelly in the same appraising way she would size up a possible opponent. Kelly wasn't offended. It was much the way the officers on the Grissom had interacted with anyone outside of the ship.

"The captain tells me you covered in my absence," Kelly said. "Thanks."

"It was my job."

"I know, but still, thanks."

"You're welcome."

"So, these Elthanians. Anything I need to know?"

The ridges of Ro's nose crinkled faintly. "They seem pretty friendly, civilized, and undoubtedly have a lot of experience interacting with other species. They do appear to be the dominant species in the Confederation. Every position of authority I've seen has been held by one of them, including the bulk of the governing council. Of course, one could also say that about Humans in the Federation."

Kelly absorbed that. "And we all know how Humans can be when we want," she said, almost to herself. Nastier than Klingons, crueler than Cardassians, more cunning than Romulans, more mercenary than Ferengi and more dangerous than all the Dominion combined. A drunken philosopher in a bar had told her that one night during the war. It was an assessment of which Kelly was rather proud. If the Elthanians were the same, however, that meant they would be friendly only until pushed. Kelly decided she would keep an eye on them during these negotiations.

"I noticed you were using a kal-tow approach in your workout," Ro said casually.

"You're familiar with Vulcan martial arts?"

An expression crossed the Bajoran's eyes, one that Kelly couldn't quite identify. "I had a very good teacher. Maybe we could spar sometime?"

"I'd like that, though it might be awhile before we have some time. Who knows how long these negotiations will take."

"Not long, knowing Janeway." Ro stood up and threw her towel over her shoulder. "Talk to you later, Commander."

Kelly watched her go, curious at the last comment, but not feeling ready to sound out the third of command on the subject of the captain. As much as she had a problem with Janeway, she knew better than to set about undermining her with subordinate officers. That would be mutiny, and whatever else she was, Kelly was a loyal and steadfast Starfleet officer. However, she also wouldn't let an incompetent captain endanger the lives of the crew. It was her responsibility as first officer to play devil's advocate, to be the voice of opposition to Janeway whenever necessary.

Frankly, she thought it a function she would find quite easy to perform.

Heading back to her quarters, she was surprised to discover the ship's science officer loitering on deck three. As far as Kelly knew, only two officers maintained quarters on this deck: the captain at the far end of the corridor, and herself. The other suites were reserved for VIP guest quarters. Lt. Hansen turned her head as she heard the sound of the turbolift doors, and Kelly nodded briefly as she met the woman's eyes. They were, she noted, an icy blue, the left surrounded by a soft gray ornament of some kind.

Kelly didn't know much about the science officer other than Hansen had been born on Tendara Colony and had been attached to the Theoretical Propulsion Group prior to being assigned to Millennium. That meant Hansen had to be absolutely brilliant because nothing less was admitted to Leah Brahm's assemblage of elite Starfleet and civilian scientists. It was quite a coup for Janeway to have lured her over to starship duty. Kelly wondered what strings had been pulled to arrange that kind of transfer, and if the woman might be somewhat resentful because of it.

"Lieutenant."

"Commander."

The tone was polite and cool. Kelly studied the metallic embellishment on the scientist's face, wondering if it were cultural or religious. At first, she had believed it to be jewelry, but after her run-in with Janeway's rule about personal style, she knew it had to be something more significant that allowed Hansen to wear them on duty.

"Can I help you?" Kelly asked as the woman remained near the turbolift, hands linked behind her back, giving no indication of going anywhere.

Hansen shook her head. "I am waiting for the captain."

"I see." Kelly was suddenly conscious of how sweaty and disarrayed she must have appeared to the tall, elegant blonde. It wasn't hard to realize that Hansen was quite spectacular. She probably had every single guy on the ship lining up for dates. "Uh, Lieutenant, I meant to ask about your facial adornments. I don't know much about Tendara Colony. What are their significance?"

Hansen looked at her oddly. "They are Borg implants. I was once a member of the Collective."

"Borg?" Kelly was rocked. She knew about the Borg, of course, but had never actually seen a drone, or had cause to encounter the Collective directly. She hadn't been near Earth when a flotilla of vessels was dispatched to protect the planet from some kind of temporal incursion, and Wolf 359 was before her time. Was Hansen actually telling her that she had been assimilated? How had she been rescued? Kelly opened her mouth, a wealth of questions suddenly crowding her head, when the door at the end of the corridor hissed open and the captain appeared.

"Sorry to make you wait, Seven," Janeway was saying as she strolled briskly down the hall. Then she spotted Kelly and her expression altered, becoming somewhat more closed. "Commander."

"Captain," Kelly managed politely. She looked back and forth between Janeway and Hansen. There was something there, some kind of connection that she didn't quite understand. And what had Janeway called the science officer? Seven? What the hell was that? A nickname?

Hansen glanced at Janeway, and then at the first officer, her gaze somewhat evaluating. "We are having dinner in the Nexus," she said suddenly. "Would you care to join us, Commander?"

Kelly blinked, surprised. So was Janeway, she noted, and unpleasantly so judging from the captain's expression. Did the scientist want to avoid having dinner alone with the captain? Kelly wished she knew more about what was going on.

"Ah, thank you, Lt. Hansen, but I'm not exactly dressed for dinner." She paused. "What's the Nexus?"

"It is the ship's lounge, located forward of deck twelve," Janeway said coolly. "The crew have created a rather ... well, unique sort of atmosphere. You might want to check it out, Commander."

Kelly stiffened. A crew lounge? She couldn't believe this ship. It was like a freaking passenger liner running between Vulcan and Earth. The next thing they'd be telling her, there were private gardens for those who liked flowers. She was still having trouble adapting to her cabin where each of the three individual rooms, including the ensuite, were three times the size of her captain's quarters on the Grissom.

"I have a lot of work to catch up on," she blurted. It wasn't quite what she wanted to say, nor quite how she wanted to say it, but the reminder obviously annoyed the captain.

Janeway's jaw stiffened visibly. "You should get to it, then." She glanced at the science officer. "Come along, Seven."

To Kelly's surprise, Hansen didn't bristle at the proprietary tone in the captain's voice, merely dipping her head and obediently following Janeway into the turbolift. The first officer shook her head, feeling uncomfortable about the scene she had just witnessed.

She wasn't sure why, but it was clear that Hansen wouldn't prove much of an ally if it ever came down to opposing a Janeway decision."Why on Earth would you invite her to dinner?" Janeway stared at Seven in utter bemusement.

"Because sharing food is an excellent way to ease communication," Seven said calmly as she speared a piece of fish from her plate. "I believe better communication between you and Commander Kelly would prove beneficial."

Janeway's mouth twisted slightly, but she didn't rise to the bait her spouse so neatly laid out for her. Instead, she scooped up a bit of pasta and chewed it slowly, waiting for the moment to pass and for a subject other than her contrary exec. Seven eyed her, evidently aware of what Janeway was doing, but when the captain continued to remain steadfast, she exhaled lightly in exasperation. When she spoke again, it had nothing to do with Kiara Kelly.

"Do you believe you will be able to convince the Confederation authorities to allow a communications array?"

Janeway shrugged slightly and sipped her wine. "That's the plan. Of course, we're basically asking the Confederation to allow an alien piece of technology be set up in their space. That's a lot to ask. I'm not sure the Federation, particularly after the Dominion War, would be very quick to allow a similar request."

Around her, other members of the crew enjoyed the unique atmosphere of the Nexus, occasionally glancing over at the table where the captain and Seven were dining. During their first mission, Janeway had learned the benefit of being more public in her choice of recreation, of showing the lower ranked crewmembers that she knew how to be social. It made her a little more approachable, particularly when she danced with whomever she was dining. The Nexus served food around the clock, but between the hours of 2100 and 0300, the music playing over the speakers became significantly faster and louder, with the lounge resembling a station-side bar rather than a dining establishment. Behind the counter lining one wall, the bartender noticed the captain's glass was getting low and immediately made a beeline for their table. That was one of the perks of command, Janeway decided wryly. She always received the best table and the best service on the ship.

She glanced up as Paryk reached her table. Slender, blue-skinned, with spiky purple-hair, the young man had escaped from some obscure colony on the Federation frontier. Eager to please, anxious to belong, he had stowed away on Millennium, intending to travel with it as it explored all four quadrants. He had quickly been discovered, but for a variety of reasons, Janeway had allowed him to continue on as the ship's bartender, even into their second mission. After all, it wasn't the first time she had found herself with an alien civilian who only wanted to tag along and was willing to serve the crew in order to do so. She wondered briefly how Neelix was doing with his current posting to the Enterprise.

"Captain, would you care for dessert?" Paryk asked as he replaced her wine with a cup of hot coffee and refilled the water glasses. "I recommend the chocolate mousse."

"I believe I will. Make it two."

Seven glanced up at the presumption of Janeway ordering for her, but did not demur at the addition to her meal. When Paryk left, she offered the captain a contemplative look.

"You are becoming somewhat possessive, particularly since entering Confederation space."

Janeway blinked. "Am I? I don't see how."

Seven smiled faintly. "You are making it quite clear to all concerned to whom I supposedly belong. Was that not why you brought me here for dinner? To show me off? Normally, I am the one who is required to issue the invitation to dine in the ship's lounge. Normally, I am the one that must convince you to accompany me to the area of the ship that is considered the most public. Normally, I am the one..."

"Point taken." Janeway didn't squirm under her partner's scrutiny, but only because she forced herself not to. "Of course, it's entirely possible, that you're just imagining things."

"Ah." Seven tilted her head. "Nonetheless, I sense you are feeling insecure for some unknown reason. Is there anything I can do to reassure such uncertainty?"

A wealth of suggestions flooded Janeway's mind, but before she could give voice to any, Paryk appeared with their desserts and she was forced to swallow them back.

"We'll continue this later," she murmured.

Seven looked vaguely amused, but didn't pursue it. As they dug into their treats, the music around them increased in volume, a distinct beat becoming audible. It wasn't so loud as to disturb them, but at the far end of the lounge, people were starting to move out on the dance floor. The captain glanced at Seven.

"Do you want to dance?"

Seven licked a bit of chocolate from her upper lip, causing a certain chill to resonate through the captain. The young woman noticed it, her keen eyes narrowing as she looked at the captain. "Do you?"

Janeway swallowed against a mouth that was suddenly dry. "Um, not really."

She was astonished. This woman was her wife, her partner for more than four years, yet the thought of being with her was still incredibly arousing, still so provocative, and triggered so easily with just a look or a gesture. Particularly when they were in public and she was conscious of having to maintain her command mask.

Seven showed no mercy, proceeding to lick more mousse off her spoon with sensual deliberation, her eyes intent on the captain's.

Janeway shifted uncomfortably. "Seven."

Beneath the table, she felt Seven's knee press against hers, rubbing lightly up and down. Pinpricks of perspiration broke out over the captain's forehead, the air in the lounge suddenly several degrees warmer.

"Stop."

Seven lifted a brow. "You do not mean that order," she said dismissively. She went on without pause. "I was speaking to Lenara Kahn earlier. She wished to know why certain people are attracted to me."

Baffled, Janeway stared at her. "What did you tell her?"

"That although many claimed it was my mind, it was, in fact, due to the size and shape of my breasts." She tilted her head, looking faintly mischievous. "You like my breasts, don't you, Kathryn? You like using your mouth on them, tasting my nipples while you touch my..."

"Damn it, Seven," Janeway hissed, seriously annoyed, yet extremely titillated at the same time. "We're in public. What if someone heard you?"

"They would know you appreciate my breasts," Seven said reasonably.

Janeway knew it was time to leave. When Seven started becoming reasonable about sexual matters, there was just no way of knowing what she would say or do next. The captain stood up abruptly. "I'm going back to our quarters." She leaned over to speak low into Seven's ear. "If you're really in possession of such an attractive mind, you'll know how quickly to get the rest of your attractive self there, as well."

She swept out of the Nexus, not looking behind to see what Seven did. When she reached her quarters, she immediately went into the bedroom, standing next to the large, queen-sized mattress as she removed her uniform and tossed it onto a nearby chair. Slipping into bed, she was chagrined to realize that Seven had yet to arrive. Frowning, she wondered what was keeping her spouse, aware that perhaps she had offended Seven in some manner by leaving so abruptly. Did the Borg think Janeway was being possessive again, assuming that her invitation had actually been an order? Seven tended to disobey such orders, often for no other reason than to remind Kathryn that however much she commanded the ship, there was one area where she was most definitely not in charge. She was just working out an apology when she finally heard the outer door hiss open and Seven appeared in the doorway of the bedroom. She appeared slightly flustered, a state quite unusual for the Borg.

"I am sorry, Kathryn," she said, somewhat breathlessly. "As I was leaving the Nexus, I was stopped by one of my geometric officers. For whatever reason, he would not stop speaking until I was most rude to him and told him to go away."

Janeway stared at her and then suddenly laughed, both at the Borg and at herself. Rising from beneath the sheets until she was on her knees, she shuffled down to the end of the bed where she reached out and slipped her arms around Seven's neck. She pulled her close, ignoring the rough feel of the Borg's uniform against her bare skin. "I'm afraid that's always the way, my darling. The more you try to hurry, the more delays occur."

Seven hugged her back. "Then I shall try not to hurry next time." She kissed her, lingering over the captain's lips.

"God, I love you so much it hurts sometimes," Janeway murmured against her mouth.

"I do not want you to hurt, Kathryn, not even in that way."

"It's such a sweet pain though, darling."

Seven kissed her again. "It is."

As she continued to kiss the captain's face and neck, Janeway began to remove the scientist's uniform, first the tunic, unfastening it and slipping it off Seven's shoulders to drop on the deck. The blue sweater and undergarment soon followed.

"You really do have spectacular breasts," Janeway told her throatily as she fondled the generous curves, toying with the rosy tips. "They're large but firm, and perfectly symmetrical, which is somewhat unusual. You were completely correct in the Nexus, my darling. I absolutely love touching them."

Seven smiled and immediately reached for Janeway, stroking her smaller breasts lightly. The captain was suddenly conscious of how age and gravity had caused a decided droop, providing a marked contrast to the magnificent display of her partner.

"How long before you won't want to touch mine anymore? They're definitely not large, or firm, or at all symmetrical."

Seven drew back her head, looking into Janeway's eyes. "That shall never happen. I love your breasts, Kathryn. I love how they are so sensitive, far more than mine. I love that when I caress them, it gives you such intense pleasure."

She ran her forefingers in slow circles around each brownish nipple, and Janeway caught her breath at the fierce tingle that connected directly to her groin, causing a warm rush of moisture at her juncture. Seven kissed her throat, and the captain could feel the full lips against the hollow at the base as she swallowed. Suddenly, her need was almost suffocating. She reached for the Borg's trousers. "Let's get these off."

Seven helped her remove them, and then crawled onto the bed with the captain, embracing her tightly as they kissed until both were breathless. Rolling over slowly on the mattress, Janeway was pressed back against the bedding, her spouse covering her with just enough weight to make her feel secure and loved, rather than smothered.

She tangled her hands into the Borg's blonde locks, loosening them from the restrictive bun, letting them flow wild around her fingers as she kissed her again, deeply.

"I love you, my darling," she whispered. "I just love you so much."

Seven paused momentarily and looked down at the captain, her brilliant blue eyes warm and loving. "I will never love anyone other than you, my Kathryn," she promised quietly. "You are the only one who will ever be with me like this. You are everything to me. I do not know why you doubt that at times."

Janeway cupped Seven's cheeks in her palms. "I don't know why, either. I just become ... frightened on occasion. I worry that you'll meet someone else, someone who can give you all that I can't."

"What? What is it that you believe you cannot give me?"

"Time. Attention. The ability to make you the most important thing in life." Janeway felt tears sting her eyes, feeling suddenly vulnerable in a way that she didn't much like. "To make your existence as crucial to me as mine is to you. To not make you second to a damned starship."

"Oh, Kathryn." Seven brushed her lips lightly over Janeway's mouth. "I know how much I mean to you. I know that you give me everything of which you are capable."

"It's not enough," Janeway whispered, feeling her heart break a little.

"It is," Seven insisted as she pressed against the captain a little more, trying to connect every inch of skin to the captain's that she could. "Kathryn, you love me perfectly. I am always aware of how necessary I am to you. Please understand that the part of you that holds itself separate from me, that pushes me away at times, is also perfect. It has taught me independence and grants me the space that I need to grow and become all I can be. Anyone else would have been incapable of achieving that balance. Anyone else might have smothered my independence and cost me my individuality as they sought to be everything to me." She smiled tenderly. "That which you are afraid of is the very thing that makes our relationship work, Kathryn. Only a starship captain could correctly love a Borg. Only you can love me in the way I need to be loved."

She pinned Janeway with a look, completely intent and sincere.

"Only you will ever be able to love me this way."Seven lay close to the captain in the warm afterglow, tucked beneath the covers as darkness surrounded them. After her assurances to Janeway, they had made slow, passionate love with as much tenderness as they were capable. Now, Seven listened to the captain breathe, feeling thoroughly satisfied and cherished.

"Sometimes, it frightens me how much I love you." Janeway was on her back, looking up at the ceiling, though in this illumination, it was doubtful she could actually see it.

Seven, aware of how fragile Kathryn was feeling this evening, kissed her gently. She knew that sometimes the woman and the captain within Janeway were at odds, pulling in different directions, particularly when the Borg was involved. She deliberately injected a note of lightness in her tone, suspecting this was the time it was most needed.

"Kathryn, how can you be frightened that you do not love me enough, and then be frightened that you love me too much? Surely there must be a 'happy medium' between the two extremes."

Janeway considered that, and Seven was gratified to hear her chuckle finally, husky and low, a rueful sound in the night. "You're right. I've completely lost my mind."

"Not completely. Sometimes you are simply more Human than others."

"Only with you, my darling." Janeway closed her eyes and tilted her head so that it was pressed into the hollow of Seven's shoulder. Seven didn't reply. She merely gathered the captain close, feeling her relax and quietly drift off, falling asleep in her arms.

The next morning, Janeway was back to her normal self. The moments were rare that the captain became so vulnerable, particularly when there didn't seem to be much triggering it, but Seven was certain that they had somehow found a way through it. She did make a point of being more loving as they ate breakfast, pausing often to touch Janeway or to kiss the back of her neck every time she passed near her. By the time the captain entered the turbolift, her thermos of coffee tucked neatly under her arm, she had that fulfilled, satisfied, almost arrogant command expression that was normal for her while on duty. If there was a little more smugness than usual this morning, that simply meant Seven had done her job correctly.

Pleased, the Borg finished cleaning up and headed for the science labs where she planned to spend the day going over every personnel file in her department with the utmost scrutiny. She was determined that what happened during the last mission, when a biometrics officer turned out to be a member of the Orion Syndicate, would not repeat itself. This time, she would know every one of her officers as well as she could. She didn't have the security rating to peruse the personal files, but she had the technical skills to dip into them without anyone, including Ro Laren, being the wiser, though she would save that until it was an emergency. She still had one year of probation left, since it counted only when she was assigned to active duty rather than on leave, and she didn't want to violate that unless it was absolutely necessary.

She entered the lab, faltering slightly when she saw Lenara Kahn speaking with Commander Kelly. The Trill glanced over as the Borg appeared, and she said something to the first officer, inclining her head in Seven's direction. The Borg inhaled slowly, preparing herself as the first officer strode toward her. She didn't have all the details, but she knew that the captain had been having trouble with Kelly. It made her wary, and an icy, aloof Borg demeanor slammed down around her like a suit of impenetrable armor.

"Commander."

"Lt. Hansen." Kelly didn't seem put off by the science officer's attitude of cold professionalism. Perhaps it was something she was used to on a regular basis. Intrigued, Seven tilted her head.

"May I help you, Commander?"

"I was hoping to get a tour of your department." Kelly offered a smile. Seven supposed some people found it gamine and mischievous. She did not. "There's no question that scientific endeavor is the dominant purpose of this vessel. Your labs take up three whole decks, and that's not counting the various individual labs found on many of the others. That's why I began my evaluation of the ship here."

"Millennium is considered primarily a science vessel," Seven confirmed. "As well as a deep space explorer."

"It's completely different from what I'm used to. I've spent most of my career on Sabre and Norway-class vessels operating on a war footing."

Clearly, the young woman would have to adapt, and Seven supposed she could help her with that, just as she had Zar. It was part of her duty as a fellow crewmember. "Very well. I must speak with Dr. Kahn a moment, but once I have finished instructing her on what must be done today, I will grant you a tour of the various science departments."

"Thank you," Kelly said. "I'll just poke around out here while I'm waiting."

"Do not touch anything that you do not understand."

When she had offered that suggestion to Janeway early in Millennium's first mission, the captain had laughed, a short bark of amusement at Seven's proprietary tone. Kelly, in contrast, shot a look at her that held what only could be anger at the advice in those green eyes, but the commander didn't say anything as she moved off in the direction of the astrometrics array. Seven was unmoved. First officers apparently came and went on this vessel. She was ultimately responsible for the science department as a whole.

Lenara waited until they were in Seven's office and the door was shut before she raised an eyebrow. "What's going on, Seven?"

Seven stared at her blankly. "I was unaware anything was going on," she said mildly as she activated her computer console and updated a few geometric files with the intention of working on them later.

"Are you kidding? The second you saw her, I could almost see your Borg armor go up. You don't like her, do you?"

"I do not know her."

Seven debated over telling the Trill that the captain was having some problems with Kelly and decided that was definitely not the sort of thing she should pass on. One day, she hoped she would simply know instinctively what to do or say, instead of having to consider it carefully ahead of time. "While I give her a tour, see that the long range sensors are calibrated to scan the anomaly we detected yesterday. While the negotiations are taking place at Hearthstone, we can begin the preliminary research."

"I'm on it, Seven." Lenara leaned over the desk, resting her palms on the top as she lowered her voice. "And when you're finished with Kelly, I want you to come back and fill me in on all the details."

"That is unlikely to happen."

Seven rose from her chair and returned to where Kelly was examining the large display screens at one end of the lab. To Seven's displeasure, Kelly had activated the workstation and was attempting to go through the detailed scans of the Confederation ship pacing Millennium. But she was having some difficulty, undoubtedly because the sensors on Millennium were far more sensitive than anything she had encountered before. She couldn't quite bring any of the information into focus.

Without saying anything, Seven moved to the console beside her and cleared up the images, a three-dimensional representation appearing on the large viewscreen along with several other views on the smaller screens. "What is it you wish to know, Commander?"

Kelly squared her jaw. "Their weapons and tactical data. The details on their shield array."

Seven thought that was more Ro's purview, but she shrugged and brought up the requested information. When she had finished, Kelly looked vaguely satisfied, scanning through it quickly. "They're not as powerful as we are. Nor do they possess transporter technology."

Seven lifted a brow and utilized a saying that she had heard from her partner on more than one occasion. "Yet there are far more of them than there are of us."

Kelly glanced at her. "You understand the tactical importance of this information." She sounded surprised, as if science officers weren't supposed to know about tactics and military strategy.

Seven was suddenly amused. Kelly was not as offensive as Janeway's mood had indicated, she decided. The young woman was simply out of her depth, coming from a small vessel that operated within a limited area of Federation space, to this vessel of complex functions and multi-talented officers. Kelly was afraid, and was displaying it with the combination of attempted charm and abrupt behavior along with a resistant attitude. It was not unlike how Seven had been when first coming on board Voyager, excluding any attempt at charm, of course. The Borg wondered if she should point that out to the captain, who was not yet able to see past the apparently insubordinate manner.

Or perhaps she wouldn't. There was an inherent humor in allowing the captain to figure it out on her own. Seven had been concentrating lately on adding more shades of humor to her personality. This, she decided, was a very subtle permutation of that. She would wait until the captain asked for her assistance.

"I was Borg. There are very few tactical stratagems in the Federation that I have not assimilated."

Again, Kelly seemed taken aback, as if having forgotten what the implants on Seven's face represented. "Right." She looked slightly uneasy. "Where were you assimilated? Wolf 359 or the recent Borg incursion against Earth?"

Seven did not find the question rude, as others would have. Indeed, she actually found Kelly's bluntness rather refreshing. It was somewhat similar to some of the Betazeds she had encountered while working at the TPG, whose telepathic ability caused them to dispense with certain social niceties.

"Neither. I was assimilated while a child and spent eighteen years in the Collective. Captain Janeway severed me from the Borg six years ago, near the beginning of Voyager's fourth year in the Delta Quadrant."

Kelly absorbed that. "How?"

"After the captain made an alliance with the Collective to combat Species 8472, I was activated to act as the liaison between the two sides. The captain succeeded in bringing the conflict to an end, but when I attempted to return to the Collective, she prevented it. I have been with her ever since, though the Borg have attempted to reclaim me on various occasions. She denies them at every turn."

Kelly frowned. Seven could not quite read the expression crossing her face. "Janeway ... denied ... the Borg. All by herself."

"It is a most unfortunate habit she has. I fear that if she continues her imprudent behavior, one day she will not be able to defeat them as she has so many times in the past."

Kelly didn't say anything. She just stared at Seven as if disbelieving what the science officer had told her. While Seven waited for the first officer to gather herself, she altered the work console's readout, changing it from the tactical display of the StarScout vessel and bringing up the spatial anomaly she wanted to explore. Once she was finished, she turned to Kelly.

"I think we should visit the biometrics department next." It wasn't necessarily how she normally conducted a tour, but she had things to do, and if Kelly was going to be confounded at every new piece of information she encountered, then Seven could still get some work done. The efficiency of it appealed to her.

Wordlessly, Kelly nodded agreement, and Seven led the way to the biometrics lab one deck down. Headed up by Lt. Samantha Wildman, the lab rivaled astrometrics in size and complexity. Samantha greeted both the Borg and first officer warmly, proud to show off her domain to Kelly as Seven instructed Sam's assistant on what she expected from the biometrics department over the next few days. As they headed for the next deck, the first officer kept sneaking glances at the Borg. Seven was aware of them, but didn't believe they required any response on her part.

After viewing the biometrics lab, Kelly was introduced to geometrics, where various planetary environments were studied extensively, from the rocks and minerals in the earth, to the atmospheric conditions that surrounded them, and to xenometrics, which was devoted to the culture and history of the various alien civilizations they came across in Millennium's exploration. After completing the tour, the two women returned to astrometrics, two decks up. The first officer appeared somewhat dazed.

Too much information, Seven decided. "I trust this has assisted in your adaptation to our vessel."

"It's an impressive department," Kelly admitted. "I hadn't realized all that was involved."

"What sciences did you pursue at the Academy?"

"I only minored in astrophysics. I majored in security, tactical and military strategy."

Seven lifted a brow. That explained a few things, though not why such an officer had been assigned to a ship like Millennium.

"You have a lot of civilians in this department." Kelly looked around at the various white-coated individuals that were working intently at their consoles.

"Yes. Science has the largest ratio of civilian/Starfleet personnel on the ship. Dr. Kahn is their representative, should you require any further information."

"Doesn't that make it difficult for you to run the department under Starfleet protocols?"

"No." Seven did not believe that required any further elucidating, despite the look the first officer granted her. She felt vaguely sympathetic toward the young woman, but time was pressing and she had things to do. "If you'll excuse me, Commander, I must return to my duties."

"Of course," Kelly said.

But for some moments afterward, her eyes followed Seven as the Borg set to work, a perplexed expression obvious in those youthful features.

Epilogue

Kelly straightened her shoulders beneath the padded folds of her dress whites, wishing that the captain had left her to cover the bridge rather than insisting she accompany her on this initial meeting with the Confederation representatives. She was still getting used to the size and complexity of the Hearthstone space station, the sight in the viewscreen as they approached leaving an impression of fairy-like towers and crystalline construction. It wasn't like anything Kelly had ever seen in the Alpha Quadrant, and for the first time, she had a real sense of how alien this civilization was and how far away from home she truly was.

On the captain's far side, Commander Ro and Lt. Hansen made covert scans of their surroundings, keeping their tricorders discreetly at their sides. While Hansen was undoubtedly gathering information pertaining to the construction of their surroundings and the biological make up of those gathering to meet the Federation delegation, Ro was searching for hidden weapons or anything out of the ordinary that might prove detrimental to them. Kelly felt a great deal safer with the Bajoran security chief along to monitor the situation.

Beside Kelly, Lt. Nog, the ship's Ferengi helmsman, barely reached the woman's shoulder. Kelly still wasn't sure why he had been brought along, but when she gathered up the courage to ask, Janeway had offered one of those smug expressions that so irritated Kelly.

"Surely you can see the benefit of having a Ferengi on our side during any negotiations, Number One."

Kelly couldn't, not trusting the big-eared officer as far as she could throw him. She had been on the bad side of too many deals with Ferengi in station-side bars to expect that a Starfleet uniform would alter what was essentially basic nature. But it was the captain's call, and Kelly wasn't quite ready to openly question that ... not yet.

The Hearthstone First, Heedran Perth, was an older, distinguished gentleman with thick, silver hair forming a widow's peak. It was cut short at the back of his neck, unlike most Elthanian males who wore their hair long and in ponytails. He welcomed them warmly to his station, and then gestured to a group of people who were waiting for them at one end of the large conference room where the upcoming negotiations were to be held.

"These are our Speakers; Krolthor Tant, Rawltan Scith, and Feurton Raith," Heedran introduced. Kelly, knowing that Elthanians, like Bajorans, offered clan name first and surname second, studied them carefully. Krolthor and Rawltan were male, one large and burly, the other tall and slender. The female, Feurton, was probably the first truly elderly Elthanian any from the Federation had seen, her tiny, somewhat frail form leaning heavily on a silver cane. But the emerald eyes in the wrinkled features were remarkably keen, assessing the Federation delegation with a laser intensity.

A fourth person, dressed in a green and brown uniform, stepped forward. The stripes across the female's left breast were intricate, though Kelly managed to recognize them from her hastily conducted research as belonging to the StarScout's equivalent of an admiral. She believed it translated as 'Superintendent' or something similar.

"Of course, you already know Tazna Jade." Heedran beamed at the Federation visitors. "The Intendant will be representing the StarScouts in these negotiations."

The Elthanian female dipped her head. She was remarkably beautiful, with her hair swept up in a french twist, framing elegant features and startling emerald eyes. Very regal in demeanor and build, tall and rippling with graceful muscles beneath the uniform, Tazna radiated command presence like a warp core radiated energy. And when the Elthanian smiled, it was as if the entire room lit up with its brilliance. Kelly was impressed despite herself. Tazna Jade was everything a commanding officer should look like.

The Elthanian nodded briefly to the captain who returned it in a rather abrupt fashion, and then focused all of her imposing attention on Millennium's science officer.

"Hello, Seven of Nine." She bowed over the young woman's hand and kissed the knuckles lingeringly, regarding her with sensual intent. "It's so very good to see you again."

Beside her, Kelly was surprised to hear the unexpected but unmistakable sound of Captain Kathryn Janeway grinding her teeth.

The End

•  This is the 12th installment in the Millennium series.

•  Dedicated to Susan.

•  It was posted to the net on March 28, 2003.Beta Beginnings II
G. L. Dartt

The fairylike, crystalline towers of the Hearthstone space station drifted in the darkness, a jewel in the black velvet of space. Through the large viewports lining one wall of Twelve Forward, better known as the Nexus, B'Elanna Torres regarded the structure with the keen eye of an engineer and the vaguely concerned expression of a woman whose spouse was currently on that very space station. She and Ro Laren had been married for almost two years, and though the Confederation port, which doubled as StarScout Command Headquarters, was supposed to be as safe as any in the Federation, the away team was still in alien territory.

That was part and parcel of loving a security chief. Ro went where the action was, and sometimes her spouse just had to remain behind and play a supportive role. But that didn't mean B'Elanna had to like it.

"Commander Torres?"

B'Elanna blinked and turned. Promoted to Lt. Commander for this second mission of Millennium, the chief engineer was still getting used to her new rank. She eyed Paryk, the Nexus's bartender, irritation rising at the interruption of her musings.

"Yes?"

"Can I get you something from the bar? A Samarian Sunset, perhaps?"

B'Elanna fought back a surge of annoyance. The blue-skinned, purple-haired young man was more sure of himself in this second year of duty on Millennium, and thus, correspondingly more pushy. Not that duty was exactly what he did in the Klingon's opinion. Previously working in a Marsport tavern, Paryk had stowed away on the Frontier-class vessel during its inaugural voyage, and for some reason, the captain had seen fit to let him remain. Most of the time, B'Elanna tolerated his puppy-like enthusiasm and desire to butt in wherever he could, but with her partner away, taking part in the initial meeting between the Federation and the Confederation dignitaries, the engineer was not at all in the mood for his incessant cheerfulness.

"Nothing," she told him shortly, glaring after him until he had moved off. It had been so much easier on Voyager. There, everyone instinctively knew when the chief engineer was in a mood and wisely steered clear.

"B'Elanna."

B'Elanna exhaled audibly. She didn't particularly want to talk to this person either, but she wasn't able to be as rude as she would to anyone else. It would probably come up in her next session if she did. "Hello, Kes," she said, turning around and forcing a smile.

To B'Elanna's dismay, the diminutive Ocampa was accompanied by Tom Paris, the ship's ... well, B'Elanna wasn't entirely sure what he was anymore. He had once been Millennium's wing commander, but the auxiliary fighters had been removed from the vessel. He wasn't the ship's chief helmsman either. That job belonged to Lt. Nog, who was able to pilot the ship through the transition jump due to his alien physiology. B'Elanna wasn't sure what Paris was still doing on the Millennium. A single lock of light hair fell over his forehead, and he brushed it back as he offered a small smile to the engineer.

"We're having dinner." Kes's bright blue eyes looked out of elven features, the shaggy blonde hair tucked neatly around upswept, pointed ears. "We would really like it if you could join us."

"Uh, I'm not really very good company tonight," B'Elanna demurred.

"You have to eat sometime," Tom insisted. "Come on, B'Elanna."

B'Elanna bit off her first response. That boyishly charming tone was all too familiar to her, and she didn't want to respond to the unpleasant memories it inspired, rather than the words or the friendly intent behind them. She should have told them she had already eaten, which would have put them off without any further explanation. It was too late now. She had gone with the 'bad mood' excuse and it hadn't worked, probably because the two had known her for so long.

Seeing no way to bow out graciously, she nodded briefly and felt nostalgic for the old days when she could have blown them both off with a snarl and a glare. Now she was chief engineer of an extremely large and prestigious ship, wearing the uniform of Starfleet as a senior officer rather than some half-assed Maquis-turned-provisional-officer, that behavior just wouldn't fly. The Nexus was jammed this evening with crew and civilians taking advantage of its unique tavernesque atmosphere, and B'Elanna had a certain dignity to uphold in public. At least, that's what she'd been told by various people, not the least of which was the captain herself.

Finding a table near the windows, the trio took their seats. B'Elanna stared at Tom as they waited for their order, eyeing the two pips on his collar. One was dark, indicating he now held the rank of a junior lieutenant.

"Tom, what the hell happened? At the rate you keep going backwards, you'll be a cadet by the time you retire."

He grinned at her. "If it means staying on Millennium, then I'm more than willing to take whatever rank and shift I can get."

He glanced over at Kes, his pale eyes warm, and B'Elanna blinked, suddenly realizing why he had arranged the demotion. It surprised her a little. She had known the pair had been spending a certain amount of time together, but she didn't know it had progressed so far. She began to wrap her mind around the concept of Tom and Kes being romantically linked. "How did you manage it?"

"I went to the captain and told her how I hired Paryk." Paris appeared somewhat cocky about what should have been considered a most imprudent career move.

B'Elanna frowned, puzzled. "She already knew all about that."

"She didn't know it officially," Tom said. "Not until I confessed. The captain had no choice but to demote me and put me on the beta shift as the backup helmsman."

B'Elanna thought his joy over what had to be a permanent stain on his record was somewhat inappropriate, but then, she had never really truly understood him. She supposed that was the real reason they had finally ended their turbulent romance on Voyager.

"How are you and Ro?" Kes asked politely, a friendly question rather than a probing one. B'Elanna had taken enough sessions with the ship's counselor to know the difference.

"Fine." She didn't want to talk about her spouse in front of Tom, or how worried she was about Ro, even though there was no real reason for concern.

"Do you remember the last time we were here?" Tom said suddenly. "How everyone kept wanting us to stay?"

B'Elanna hesitated, but before she could respond, Paryk approached with their meals on a tray. She regarded the Bajoran hasperat on her plate thoughtfully. She had grown fond of the dish that was Ro's favorite, and the flavor reminded her of the security chief. She needed that sense of connection at the moment.

"What about it?" she prompted, after she had taken a few bites of the spicy dish.

"Did you ever find it odd that nobody did? I mean, you'd think that one or two would have wanted to remain behind. "Kes and I have been talking about it, and the more I think about it, the weirder it is."

Kes chewed her salad slowly and then swallowed. "I only have the logs to go by, of course. Sek didn't exist and I had left the ship by then, but it seems to me that someone in the crew would have chosen a life here rather than take a chance in the Delta Quadrant, particularly among those that didn't have much waiting for them in the Federation."

"You mean someone like me?" B'Elanna glanced at Tom. He really didn't have too much waiting at home either, and certainly, at the time, they had talked about staying. In the end, they decided to stick with Janeway, but B'Elanna knew if one of them had wanted to take a chance on the Confederation, the other would have agreed. "I don't know about Tom, but there was just something about this place that made me uncomfortable."

Kes eyed her keenly, seeming unsurprised by the revelation. "Indeed? Could you explain in what way?"

B'Elanna exhaled. "Honestly? I think it was the various Elthanians I kept running into. They were just too nice. Too accommodating. Too eager to have us stay behind."

Tom laughed. "I thought she was crazy at the time, but you know, I didn't really want to stay around here either. I can't tell you why. How can someone be too nice?"

"When they have something to hide," B'Elanna said automatically, without thinking. She became aware of the other two staring at her. "I know, it doesn't make any sense, but there was just something about all that charm and friendliness. Whenever I finished working with one of their custodians, I was always glad to get back to my quarters where I wouldn't have to be around them anymore. I can't tell you why, especially when everyone else on the ship just seemed to be in love with them, going on and on about how charming and how good looking they were."

"Yet, they didn't choose to stay either," Kes pointed out.

B'Elanna shrugged. "It's just as well. We all got home in the end."

Kes toyed thoughtfully with her pasta. "Nonetheless, I find myself disturbed by it. I've been speaking with the others who were on Voyager at the time, like Samantha Wildman and Lt. D'Or, and they indicated the same sense of vague distrust underlying the other, valid reasons they had for not taking a chance on a new life in the Confederation. It's nothing they can put a finger on, but it's consistent in all my discussions with them."

B'Elanna frowned. "Why so interested, Kes?"

"It's inexplicable. Things that are inexplicable bother me."

The engineer didn't know if she agreed with the counselor's thought process, but she had learned to respect the Ocampa's intuitiveness over the years. "Is this something we should take to the captain?"

Tom looked slightly scornful. "And tell her what? That a few years ago, we all decided to stick with her and Voyager because it seemed the lesser of two evils?"

She shot him an aggravated look, but ignored the provocation. "I could let Laren know that you're bothered by this. See what she has to say."

"Actually, that's part of the reason we invited you to lunch, B'Elanna," Kes confessed, looking slightly self conscious. "I know that Commander Ro is fully occupied with arranging the security for the diplomatic negotiations, but if she could keep an eye out while she's on the station, I'd appreciate it. It might provide me with enough information to know that a threat exists or if I'm only imagining it. If she finds something, then we can bring it to the attention of the first officer."

B'Elanna thought about it. It sounded like a colossal waste of time, but Kes's instincts were generally pretty good. So were her own, now that she thought about it. Something about the Elthanians bugged her, and sharing that with her partner would undoubtedly result in some insights from the Bajoran that none of them had considered.

"We'll take it to the captain, not the first officer," she blurted, and then bit her tongue, wondering if she should have said it.

To her relief, however, neither Tom nor Kes seemed particularly surprised by the statement. It was starting to make the rounds on the lower decks that there was some kind of tension between the captain and her new exec. Nothing concrete, but certainly people were starting to talk about Kiara Kelly. Her manner, what little they had seen of it since her recovery in sickbay from Transition Jump Syndrome, was short and militaristic, particularly when she issued orders or made a tour of the various departments. For some of the crew, veterans of the Dominion War, it was familiar, and they responded accordingly, but for the first year officers and those who had served on Voyager, it was a bit disconcerting.

B'Elanna, in the few short conversations she had with Kelly when the first officer dropped by engineering, had been torn between laughing at the bristly young woman and finding her annoying beyond belief. Of course, since that was her reaction to most people when she first met them, including Seven of Nine who was now one of her closest and dearest friends, she really couldn't judge if Kelly was someone she should personally dislike or not.

She stared at the other two. "What's the other reason?" Kes blinked and Tom looked blank. B'Elanna resisted a sigh. "You mentioned that having me talk to Ro was only part of the reason you invited me to lunch. What's the other part?"

The couple looked at each other in some silent communication, then the helmsman reached across and took the engineer's hand.

"We just wanted to let you know, B'Elanna," Paris said gently, "Kes and I are moving in together."

B'Elanna looked down at their entwined fingers, wondering why the hell he was telling her, and in that particular tone of voice. It almost sounded sympathetic, as if she would consider this bad news or something. She eyed him narrowly. Tom didn't honestly think she'd start displaying some kind of jealousy, did he? To her dawning amusement, she realized that he did, seeing that the helmsman was regarding her nervously, as if afraid she would explode or something.

"Congratulations," she said, successfully smothering the outburst of giggles and turning them into a warm smile for Kes. "I hope you two will be very happy." She resisted the urge to wish the Ocampa the good luck she was certain Kes would need.

"I know we will," Kes said. "You're actually the first person we've told."

"I'm flattered," B'Elanna said, with more diplomacy than she thought herself capable. She reached out and raised her glass of prune juice.

"To new beginnings."

Seven of Nine, chief science officer for the USS Millennium, regarded the bubbles in her drink and wondered how long she was expected to remain at this function. An impromptu gathering had developed after the Federation diplomatic team had been introduced to the representatives from the Confederation, food and drink were delivered, and now the large room was filled with various dignitaries wanting to mingle with those from the Federation.

Across the room, the Borg could see her captain in deep conversation with Feurton Raith, one of the Elthanian diplomats appointed by the Confederation's governing council. But every so often, Janeway would shoot a look in the general direction of Seven, more to monitor the Borg's companion than anything else, she suspected dryly.

"Seven? Would you care to join me outside?"

Tazna Jade was a statuesque woman, topping even Seven, who stood almost six feet tall. Silver hair was piled high on the Elthanian's head, held back by decorative clips on the sides. Feathery antennae sprouted from the inner corner of each eyebrow, while beneath them, eyes the shade of emeralds, raked the Borg with a gaze that was sensual in its intent. Wearing the green and brown uniform of an Intendant, the StarScout's version of an admiral, Tazna would be representing the organization in the upcoming negotiations. She was also a long time admirer of Seven, and her manner over the past few hours indicated that she had designs on picking up right where she had left off so many years earlier. At the time, the Borg's development was such that she had been oblivious to Tazna's romantic interest until it had been put bluntly to her that the alien female wanted to copulate with her. Now, Seven was at a point where she easily recognized the flirtatious manner, and could even be flattered by it to a certain extent.

"Join you?"

Tazna gestured to transparent doors that led to a balcony. Through them, Seven could see it overlooked the station's promenade. "I thought that you might enjoy some solitude. I remember how uncomfortable you are in this type of setting."

Seven found the idea appealing. Though her distaste for crowds wasn't as bad as the last time she encountered the Elthanian, there was still a part of her that intensely disliked being surrounded by large groups of unfamiliar individuals. She allowed Tazna to escort her out, aware of the bluish-grey gaze that tracked her progress with the laser-like intensity of a targeting array. Seven was quite cognizant of Janeway's irrational jealous streak, and the Borg was not above piquing that authoritative possessiveness now and again.

"I noticed the captain is keeping close tabs on you," Tazna said as she stood next to Seven at the railing. Flowering plants had been artfully arranged on this small balcony, filling the air around them with a deep perfume. "Are you still romantically involved?"

"We were married during our fifth year in the Delta Quadrant," Seven explained. When the word didn't quite translate properly, as so many in their respective languages didn't, she elaborated, "We have been involved for over four years." She wondered why the inflection in the translator made some words come out differently than what she expected.

"And have you prepared for offspring?"

"Not yet, and perhaps not for several years." Seven was vaguely surprised at the question, while Tazna looked momentarily stymied at her response, but recovered quickly.

"The captain's a very lucky female to have you in her life."

"Yes, she is," Seven agreed readily, in a small attempt at humor.

Tazna stared at her, obviously surprised at the comment, and charmed, as well. "You're different, Seven," she said finally. "Less ... innocent and more worldly on many levels. It becomes you."

"Thank you."

Tazna looked out over the alien populace milling about the promenade, her elegant features pensive. "I must admit, when I heard about the arrival of a Federation vessel, I hoped that, somehow, you would be on board." Tazna lifted her hand to the small of Seven's back, pressing lightly as she moved closer, well within the Borg's personal space. It was not unlike how Janeway imposed her presence when attempting to make a point. "I have thought of you often over the passing years, and of what might have been had we met at a different time and place."

"Both time and place are currently different, but I am afraid little else has altered," Seven told her, not unkindly. "I am flattered." She added honestly in an attempt to maintain diplomatic ties, "I have thought of you on several occasions, as well."

She realized that was a tactical error when Tazna's eyes widened and she leaned closer, her fingers tightening on the Borg's back, almost as if she were going to pull Seven to her. Apparently, the comment had been misconstrued and Seven's matrimonial state was suddenly no longer viewed as an obstruction to whatever Tazna had in mind. The Borg decided that she would not attempt to be so diplomatic in the future. Fortunately, before Tazna could say or do anything further, the Elthanian's eye was caught by something over Seven's shoulder and she stiffened. The Borg turned her head to follow the Intendant's gaze through the transparent doors into the interior room.

Three tiny figures were standing in the archway, none of them reaching more than three feet high. At first, Seven thought they were children, but the reaction of the others present in the room indicated they were actually the adult representatives of a species Seven had never before encountered.

"Excuse me, Seven." Tazna abruptly left, striding rapidly into the conference room and across it to join the growing group of people flocking to the newcomers. Intrigued, Seven drifted inside so that she could examine the unexpected arrivals up close, catching glimpses of them through the shifting crowd. Covered in long, silky golden hair, their pleasant, flat-featured faces reminded the Borg of toys, similar to the stuffed animals that Naomi ... and Janeway when she was younger ... enjoyed as constant companions.

Teddy bears, the Borg decided with a certain surprise. The aliens resemble living versions of Bobo, Kathryn's teddy bear. The toy had been retrieved from the Janeway homestead during the couple's initial return to the Alpha Quadrant. It now enjoyed a prominent place of display in the cabinet that lined one wall of Janeway and Seven's bedroom on Millennium, surrounded by the eclectic artworks the Borg collected on her travels in the various quadrants.

Tufted ears stood up on the top of the alien's heads, appearing to swivel independently of each other, while darker streaks on their face distinguished the various individuals. They did not wear clothing, but around their chubby little waists and wrists, jeweled belts and gauntlets flashed in the defused lighting. Further observation revealed that the adornments were not merely ornamental, but functional, having various compartments containing tools and unfamiliar devices.

"That's interesting."

Ro Laren, the ship's security chief, appeared suddenly at Seven's side, and the Borg had to conceal her start of surprise. She had no idea how the Bajoran was able to move so unobtrusively that not even Seven's Borg enhancements could detect her. Ro was studying the tiny aliens with a keen interest.

"How so?"

"Look at how the Elthanians are reacting," Ro said slowly. "They're treating them with definite respect." She paused, her dark eyes scanning the crowd measuringly. "More than respect, as a matter of fact. They actually seem to be deferring to them on some level."

Seven made her own assessment of the crowd, not necessarily agreeing, though she knew it had to be significant on some level, or the stoic Bajoran wouldn't have brought it to the attention of the ship's science officer. She was about to ask Ro to elaborate, seeking further information, when she saw the captain lift her arm and make a gesture, indicating that she required the rest of the team to join her. As the Borg wormed her way through the crowd toward Janeway, Ro rounded up the other members of the away team. Soon, all five Federation representatives were standing shoulder to shoulder as they were formally introduced to the diminutive aliens.

"Captain Kathryn Janeway, may I present Council Ministers Thriven, Peck, and Jiidan, " Heedran announced to the Federation captain. "They represent the Soularri, a preeminent species in our Confederation."

The smallest of the three, Thriven, reached out a paw, indicating that either he understood the cultural significance of a handshake to the Federation, or that the Soularri culture had evolved a similar greeting. "We are honored to finally meet with you, Captain Janeway." His voice was rather high, sounding somewhat like the effect of helium on a Humanoid voice box. Seven saw the captain's lips twitch in response, almost a smile, before Janeway suppressed it and assumed a properly grave expression. "We studied the information gathered from your last visit with great interest. The possible alliance your Federation offers is most intriguing."

His eyes were large and brown, seeming too wide for his face, and when his lips parted, they revealed teeth with sharp little canines. Carnivorous, Seven determined dispassionately, or at least, omnivorous. She was amused, though not necessarily surprised, to discover the captain had a charmed expression on her face as she knelt until she was at eye level with Thriven. Seven knew Janeway undoubtedly found the three to be 'cute', as did the other members of the away team. Even Ro had softened her gaze as she waited to be introduced.

"The honor is ours, Minister," Janeway said, balanced easily on her heels. She lifted her hand to indicate the others. "May I present my first officer, Commander Kiara Kelly, my chief of security, Commander Ro Laren, my science officer, Lt. Annika Hansen, and our ship's helmsman, Lt. Nog."

One by one, the away team knelt to greet the trio of aliens, even Nog who was not particularly tall and must have found it unusual to have to lower himself to greet another species. When it was Seven's turn, she discovered that the palms of the Soularri were hairless, soft and warm in her hand as she accepted each paw briefly. She could also detect a faint musky odor, not unpleasant but decidedly different than anything she had previously encountered. It reminded her of mountains and deep forest, a sense of hidden streams and mossy hollows lingering at the back of her mind. She wondered if the beings were mildly empathic, passing on some hint of their homeworld through the connection of their touch.

"We have come here to Hearthstone to monitor your negotiations with the Council representatives, Captain," Thriven told Janeway when the introductions had been completed. "We find such interaction between species most intriguing."

"We would appreciate your input," Janeway said, after a quick glance at the Elthanians indicated to her that they held no objection to it.

Other than Tazna Jade, Seven noticed. The Borg eyed the Intendant who was hovering just beyond the circle surrounding the Soularri. A trace of discontent had crossed those emerald eyes when the tiny aliens had announced their intention to attend the upcoming negotiations, and Seven wondered if Tazna could be encouraged to reveal exactly why, though how the Borg would do it without unduly exacerbating Jade's attraction, and subsequently, Janeway's jealousy, remained a mystery.

The group gradually dispersed, returning to the party, and Seven drifted over to the buffet with the intention of retrieving something to satisfy the hunger pangs that had developed over the evening. While she was debating over the selection of alien dishes, she became aware of a presence appearing suddenly at her side. Disgruntled that she had not detected this approach either, she looked to her side and downward to discover a member of the Soularri. Her ocular implant easily determined the distinctive markings that identified this individual as Jiidan, though she suspected her crewmates would have a greater difficulty telling them apart due to their similar appearance.

"Minister Jiidan," she greeted.

"Lt. Hansen," he replied. "Cool shade to you."

She decided that must be some form of familiar greeting, less formal than what they had used earlier. "And to you."

"Such an interesting civilization you represent," the tiny ambassador offered as he reached up and took a short, crumb-covered stick from a platter. From earlier experimentation, Seven knew it tasted somewhat like fried chicken. "Such varied cultures in one society."

"Similar to the Confederation."

"Yes." He chewed thoughtfully. "Yet, your team is made up of various species, unlike our contingent who are represented only by Elthania." He eyed her as if expecting some kind of comment on that. Seven wasn't sure what he was fishing for, so she kept the conversation as neutral as possible, staying away from any comment about the Elthanians.

"Commander Ro is Bajoran," Seven explained. "Lt. Nog is Ferengi, while Captain Janeway and Commander Kelly are Terran."

"And you?" he asked curiously, his dark eyes examining the implants adoring her face. She was impressed. Even those in the Federation assumed they were facial jewelry of some sort, not distinctive evidence of assimilation.

"I am also Human, as the captain and first officer are," Seven elucidated. "However, I was not raised on Earth but within the Borg Collective. In a certain manner, that makes me unique and alien to Humans."

"I see," Jiidan said, and for some reason, Seven thought that he did. It was intriguing to encounter such understanding in someone so far away from both the Alpha and Delta Quadrants. She opened her mouth to say more, when she caught a flash of white from the corner of her eye. She glanced across the buffet table to see Tazna Jade sipping her drink and staring in their direction, but it was not Seven she was focused on, but rather, the harmless looking Soularri.

The expression in her eyes made Seven distinctly uneasy.

Janeway didn't know what was more frustrating about these negotiations; the attention Tazna Jade insisted on paying Seven between sessions, or the fact that the StarScout Intendant went out of her way to obstruct every point that was brought up during them. The captain supposed she could understand why the Confederation's interstellar scientific, exploratory and defensive agency could object to having a piece of alien technology constructed in Elthanian space. Certainly, were positions reversed and she were representing Starfleet in negotiations dealing with an alien array being built next to McKinley Station, she might be inclined to do the same. Yet, it seemed Tazna was being particularly obstinate, debating every minuscule element of the agreement that Janeway was attempting to build. If it weren't for the Soularri, in their role as observers, occasionally interjecting a comment that seemed to clear up the confusion, the captain didn't think the negotiations would be making any progress at all.

During the break, while the representatives from both sides partook of the food and beverages made available in the outer chamber, Janeway drew her chief helmsman aside. It wasn't the first time Lt. Nog had assisted the captain in diplomatic negotiations, though he wasn't there to offer any ambassadorial skills. Janeway just liked having him around to offer tips and openings that he, as a member of the Ferengi, felt she might be overlooking.

"The Intendant seems intent on stalling these procedures." He shot a glance across the room at where Tazna was speaking quietly to Seven, leaning close in a clear violation of her physical space. The captain gritted her teeth when the Borg did not move away, remaining politely attentive to the Elthanian.

"So it isn't my imagination," Janeway muttered, almost to herself.

He tilted his large-eared head. "I don't believe so, Captain. In fact, my lobes are telling me that she has some kind of hidden agenda intended to delay or defeat these negotiations."

"Why?"

He shrugged lightly. "Unknown, Captain. We don't know enough of the political maneuvering of the Confederation Council. It may be that there is a schism between them and the StarScouts."

"I see." Janeway exhaled, eyes narrowed as she watched the Elthanian. "Or maybe she just wants to make me look like a fool."

"Entirely possible, Captain," he agreed, and then realized he shouldn't have when Janeway pinned him with a look. He inhaled slowly. "Permission to speak candidly, Captain?"

Janeway firmed her jaw. "That's why you're along, Lieutenant."

"Do you know the main reason Ferengi like dealing with Hew-mons?"

Janeway curbed her impatience, suspecting that the young officer had a reason for bringing it up ... and using that particular inflection on the racial term. "I suppose it's because we're no longer familiar with financial matters."

"That's not what makes you easy marks, Captain," Nog said with disarming honesty. "Terrans are perfectly capable of adding and subtracting numbers, whether it relates to latinum or not."

"Then what?"

"It's your perceived assumption of superiority, Captain. Terrans tend to believe that you're so advanced, no species still dealing with money could possibly out-think you. It makes it easy to lure you into a profitable deal. A Hew-mon simply doesn't want to believe he's being fooled."

Janeway eyed him narrowly. "Your point, Lieutenant?"

"What I'm saying is that it's a weakness," Nog said. "I know that the Federation likes to believe they're above that, but it's often the only way to close a deal. You must identify the vulnerable point, target it, and exploit it to the fullest."

"Which is what in this case?"

"The Intendant," Nog said, a hint of exasperation in his tone as if he were a teacher and the captain was a particularly dull student. "She's trying too hard. This deal is too important for some reason. She's not objective, Captain."

Janeway considered it. "All right, suppose I accept that Tazna Jade is an exploitable weakness for the Confederation. How do I take advantage of that?"

"Find her vulnerable spot." He shot another look across the room. "And with all due respect, Captain, I would think it would be obvious where the Intendant's major weakness lies at the moment."

"Indeed." Janeway's tone was frosty, but she couldn't deny the validity of the officer's observations. "You could be wrong."

"I could. She could merely be exploiting your vulnerable point, Captain."

That one stung even more. "You're telling me she's not really interested in Seven at all. She's just pretending to be because she knows how much it aggravates me."

"Oh, I believe she's fairly interested in Seven," Nog said thoughtfully. "Who wouldn't be?" He glanced at Janeway and realized that speaking candidly had its limits and he had just reached his. "I mean," he added hastily, "the fact that it distracts you may simply be a bonus in her view."

Janeway pursed her lips. "Anything else?"

"The Soularri. I haven't figured them out yet. Why are they so interested in these negotiations? More importantly, if the Elthanians are the dominant species in the Confederation, why are they allowing the Soularri to hang around?"

"You don't think they're here merely to observe?"

Nog shrugged lightly. "It's not what my ears are hearing."

Janeway nodded, recognizing an old Ferengi saying. "Good work," she replied with one of her own. "Keep your ears open."

"The Seventh Rule of Acquisition, Captain. I always do."

Janeway frowned thoughtfully as he drifted away, her eyes focused on Tazna and Seven while she wondered what her next move should be. It kept her occupied through the afternoon session where the futile exchange of concession and demand remained the same. By the time both sides called it a day, Janeway was so frustrated that she could barely speak.

Once she had returned to the ship, she took a long, hot shower, the heat and steam serving to relax her and clear her mind. After pulling on a t-shirt and some trousers, she exited the bedroom, surprised to discover Seven working at her console rather than preparing dinner. It wasn't as if the young woman was required to make a meal for the couple, of course, but this was unusual behavior. Plus, she had been somewhat silent since their return. It raised the captain's alarm bells.

"Annika?" Janeway's voice was soft as she paused behind the young woman, resting her hands on her shoulders. "What's wrong?"

Seven glanced up, eyebrow lifted. "There is nothing wrong, Kathryn."

"You've been very quiet. And you have that little furrow between your eyebrows. I know something's bothering you."

Seven exhaled audibly, shifting her eyes back to the viewscreen, regarding the schematic she was working on. "Tazna Jade," she admitted finally. "I may have ... erroneously given her the wrong impression."

"How so?"

"I told her that I had thought about her on occasion over the past five years, and she has taken that to mean that the thoughts were of an amorous nature."

"Is she being obnoxious?" Janeway managed to keep her tone even, but anger rose within her quickly before she was able to dampen it down.

"No, Kathryn, merely persistent." Seven touched the control pad in front of her, adding data to a file. "I did not want to disturb you with this, but I am unable to find a diplomatic way to discourage her attentions." She sighed so slightly that the captain barely heard it. "I do not wish to disrupt the negotiations, but I believe that I must be excessively rude to her in order to make my point."

Janeway examined this lovely jewel of an opportunity, wondering if she dared take advantage of it. There was a time she wouldn't have even considered it, but Seven had progressed so far on her road to Humanity that perhaps she could pull it off.

"Maybe you shouldn't discourage her attentions."

That drew Seven away from her work, turning around in her chair to face the captain. "Kathryn?"

Janeway inhaled deeply and moved away, crossing the room to the kitchenette as she stalled for time, trying to organize her thoughts. Retrieving a bottle of wine from the cooler beneath the counter, she lifted it slightly in invitation, but Seven shook her head, indicating she didn't want any. Janeway poured herself a glass of clear Bajoran spring wine and contemplated it a moment before lifting her head to meet Seven's penetrating gaze. "Tazna Jade's attraction to you might be something that we can use," she said carefully.

Seven stared at her blankly. "Indeed?"

"In fact, if you encouraged it a little..."

"Encouraged it?" Seven stood up, her brilliant blue eyes turning icy as she moved toward the captain. "What are you implying, Kathryn?"

"Well, I'm certainly not saying you should sleep with her," Janeway clarified hastily. "In fact, I would be most displeased if you did. I'm simply saying that if Tazna Jade could be suitably ... distracted for the next few days, I might be able to finish up these negotiations in a more timely manner, and do so to the Federation's advantage." The captain returned the bottle to the cooling unit and moved over to the sofa, carrying her glass. "Think of it as a tactical maneuver, Lieutenant."

Seven tilted her head and crossed her arms over her chest. Her expression had grown thoughtful as she absorbed what Janeway was saying. "You want me to give the impression that I am considering her offer of a romantic encounter."

"Exactly."

"That is most deceptive, Captain," Seven said, her use of rank indicating that she realized they had moved into the professional aspect of their relationship, though generally, they left ship's business outside the door of their quarters. "As well as somewhat distasteful."

Janeway eyed her speculatively over her glass. "I'm not ordering you to do it, Lieutenant," she said mildly. "It's merely a suggestion."

Seven regarded her for several moments. Janeway remained silent, sipping her wine as her partner worked it out in her mind. "Kashyk," the Borg said finally. "You 'led him on', made him believe you were attracted to him, and all the while, you were manipulating him into doing what you wanted in order to save the refugees."

"Yes." Janeway's expression softened. "I know that was a very difficult period for you, yet you accepted it as a viable plan and even assisted in the deception."

"It was for the greater good of the people we were trying to help." Seven lifted her chin. "You believe this will be for the greater good of the Federation."

Janeway studied her intently. "Not if it truly disturbs you. Not if you really don't want to do it." She lifted her hand, gesturing for her spouse to join her. When Seven did, the captain drew the Borg's hand to her mouth, brushing her lips over the knuckles. "I love you, darling. I'm asking this only as a captain to a crewmember, involving a tactical operation. It's not at all personal."

Seven regarded her measuringly. "That is false," she decided finally. "There is a part of you that would personally delight in making a fool of Tazna Jade, particularly if I am the tool that engineers it."

Janeway winced. "Fine," she said, reminded once again that no one knew her better than this woman sitting beside her. She didn't know why she persisted in thinking she could deceive her in any way. "I admit, that would be something of a bonus ... as your spouse. It's not been easy watching her flirt shamelessly with you right in front of me while diplomacy prevents me from doing anything about it."

"Kashyk was a brutal, vicious despot. I do not believe that Tazna Jade is anything like him. She is primarily an honorable being, doing her best to serve her culture in these negotiations."

"If she were so damned honorable, she wouldn't be chasing my wife," Janeway said with some asperity.

"Is that the real reason you have developed this plan?" When Janeway didn't respond, Seven tilted her head. "It is entirely possible that Tazna does not necessarily want me. She merely desires what she cannot have. Once she believes she can, perhaps she will no longer be so interested."

"Even better," Janeway said reasonably. "Then you can do the chasing for a change. That should really distract her."

"You know that I would do anything for you, Kathryn."

Janeway abuptly sobered. "I know. I've known since you rescued me from that Barellan prison. That's why this is entirely your decision, Annika. It's not vital that you do this. In fact, if you want, tomorrow you can tell Tazna Jade to go to hell with my blessing, diplomacy be damned. I just think that if you don't, we can stack the odds in our favor a little."

Seven eyed her. "How far do you expect me to go, Kathryn? As far as you went with Kashyk?"

Janeway firmed her jaw. "If necessary."

She very carefully didn't think about what that meant, and how it would feel if Seven did have to go that far.

Kelly settled into her chair and struggled not to fidget. She knew on an intellectual level that these negotiations were tremendously important to Starfleet. They wouldn't have issued special orders regarding it otherwise, but she honestly couldn't see why. Of course, it would grant Millennium a way to bounce a signal off the communications array to Starfleet at will, rather than having to open a transition conduit and shoot a torpedo through. But did that convenience really offset the tactical disadvantage of setting up the latest in advanced Federation communications technology for the Confederation to examine at will?

She glanced over at Captain Janeway, honestly not knowing how the older woman did it. Hour after hour, never raising her voice, always sounding reasonable and calm, the captain negotiated for the right to put the array in synchronous orbit with Hearthstone. Other territories in the Confederation, including their own, were offered by the Soularri as alternative sites. The tiny aliens made their space sound far more attractive than the Elthanian sector, while the StarScout Intendant seemed particularly reluctant to have Federation technology so close to their primary base. Yet, despite the combination of encouragement and antipathy, the captain appeared determined to locate the array by Hearthstone. She finally wrung the concession from the negotiating team, though that was only the beginning. The negotiations went on to cover the excruciating detail of construction: from exactly how many technicians from each side would be chosen to work on it, to what else the Confederation could expect in future consideration for allowing their people to assist in the construction. With a refined grace, Janeway hammered out each detail, never seeming to grow impatient with the slow progress of the negotiations, pouncing on any opening to move things along.

Kelly was impressed. She didn't want to be, but she was.

At least, things seemed to be proceeding quicker in this session than it had the previous day. There weren't as many objections from the StarScout contingent, or requests to explain, in excruciating detail, every item being brought up for debate. Kelly wondered how much that had to do with Lt. Hansen who was sitting next to the Intendant, Tazna Jade. Every so often, the science officer would reach over and ask Tazna a question in a low voice, or touch her arm to have a point clarified. After a certain period of time, Kelly realized the captain was looking for such signals, if that's indeed what they were, because she would then smoothly define the point or concession and demand politely that the Elthanians make a decision. The other three, Krolthor Tant, Rawltan Scith, and Feurton Raith, inevitably would do so, usually in favor of whatever Janeway was presenting, and Tazna Jade would appear caught off guard, having little choice but to grudgingly agree with their majority vote.

Kelly was astonished, finally figuring out that the captain and the science officer were working together to circumvent the StarScout Intendant. Nor was the first officer the only one to notice. During a break in the outer chamber, while the representatives of both sides took an opportunity to regroup, speak in more informal terms and get a bite to eat from the ever present refreshment table, Kelly noticed that Ro Laren had taken the captain aside. Drifting closer, Kelly eavesdropped shamelessly, while pretending to fill her glass with some unidentifiable juice provided by the dispensers.

"Captain, do you have an operation in place of which I'm unaware?"

Janeway offered the Bajoran a look that was probably supposed to be innocent, but didn't quite convey it. It certainly didn't fool Kelly, and she doubted it would fool the security chief.

"What do you mean, Commander?"

Ro exhaled audibly. "Captain, Seven is all over Tazna Jade. Most people wouldn't think of it as anything but minor flirting, but for Seven, it means she's practically stripping off her clothes and flinging herself at the Intendant."

"Oh? I hadn't noticed."

Ro just stared at her, and Janeway had the decency to look vaguely embarrassed, rather like a naughty child caught with her hand in the cookie jar. "Fine, there's more going on there than meets the eye, but I assure you, security does not need to be involved."

Ro hesitated, and then lowered her voice. Kelly had to strain to hear her next words. "Are you sure, Kathryn? This could be a very dangerous game you and Seven are playing."

Kelly frowned, both at the inflection, and at the use of the captain's first name, which was more intimate than she had expected between a captain and her chief of security. Suddenly, this appeared no longer to be about the science officer flirting mildly with the Intendant as a distraction, and something more personal that the first officer didn't quite understand. Janeway seemed to detect it as well, and she put her hand on Ro's forearm.

"I assure you, Laren, we're in complete control of the situation. I trust Seven implicitly."

"But do you trust Tazna Jade?"

Janeway smiled, a crooked curve to the corner of her mouth. "I don't have to trust her. Seven is all I need to rely upon in this matter."

Ro didn't look particularly happy, but she seemed to realize she had gone as far as she could in her objections. "Very well, Captain," she said, bringing it back to a professional level.

Janeway dipped her head. "Don't worry, Commander. At this rate, we'll be finished up by tomorrow and can begin constructing the array. We'll be out of Confederation space by the end of the week."

"If you're sure, Captain."

"I am." Janeway lifted her eyes past Ro's shoulder and met Kelly's. The first officer hastily looked away and finished filling her glass, unsure whether she had been caught in her surreptitious listening or not. When she looked up again, both Janeway and Ro were across the room, talking to the representatives of the Soularri, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

Sipping her juice and making a face when it turned out to be far tarter than she had anticipated, she moved back into the conference room as the rest did. The afternoon stretched on, and Kelly found herself becoming more and more fidgety. By the time the session had ended, she was ready to climb the walls, and she was first to the alcove not far from the negotiation area where Millennium's transport would take place, waiting impatiently for the others. Janeway, Ro and Nog soon joined her, but Lt. Hansen apparently needed more time. At the far end of the corridor leading to the secluded cul de sac, Kelly could see the science officer speaking in low tones with Tazna Jade. She lifted an eyebrow as the Elthanian suddenly moved closer to Hansen, took her in her arms authoritatively, and kissed the young woman with great thoroughness.

It appeared that Hansen had made herself a conquest, Kelly thought with some amusement, suspecting it was just one of many. With her looks and incredible body, the science officer had undoubtedly left a trail of broken hearts in her wake. A grin twitched Kelly's lips, and she glanced at the rest of the away team, wanting to share her amusement. To her surprise, Ro was regarding the show at the end of the hall with grim disapproval, while beyond her, Lt. Nog appeared completely astonished. The captain's eyes grew dark and stormy, her expression pinched and unhappy, clearly displeased with Hansen's blatant display of attraction to the alien Intendant. Kelly blinked and turned her eyes forward as Lt. Hansen finally broke away from the Elthanian and moved to where her crewmates waited.

"Nice of you to join us, Lieutenant," Janeway said with cold sarcasm as Seven took her position next to her.

It was clear to Kelly that the captain felt the science officer was enjoying her role at distracting the Intendant a little too much. The first officer wondered what business it was of Janeway's if Hansen managed to retrieve a little entertainment from what was an obvious assignment to divert the Elthanian StarScout. Kelly guessed it just another indication of the captain's inability to let the crew do their jobs.

She was pleasantly surprised to note that Hansen didn't say anything in response to the captain, staring straight ahead as if Janeway wasn't even present. Furthermore, the science officer was letting it be known with every line of her body that she wasn't the slightest bit intimidated or impressed by the captain's disapproval. The first officer wanted to nudge Hansen and offer a smile of encouragement, but decided it wasn't the prudent thing to do while the atmosphere was so tense.

Back on Millennium, Kelly fell into step with Commander Ro as they exited the transporter room. The Bajoran glanced at her curiously.

"I was hoping to take you up on that offer of a workout," Kelly said with studied casualness. "All this sitting around a negotiating table has left me a little antsy."

"I know what you mean. I'm taking the alpha squad out on a training run on holodeck two once the negotiations are over. I should warn you, though, we run our programs with the safeties off."

Kelly dipped her head approvingly. "Is there any other way?"

Ro glanced at her again, a speculative expression in her dark eyes. Kelly wondered if the security chief was uncertain about her abilities and was regretting her offer. But when the Bajoran spoke, it was to issue yet another invitation for them to get together, one that was completely unexpected.

"Would you care to stop by my quarters for dinner?"

Kelly blinked. "Dinner?" She wondered if the Bajoran was asking her out, and felt a moment of complete panic at having misread the situation, seeking friendship only to find a complicated entanglement. She wasn't even into girls, she thought glumly.

"Yes," Ro continued, apparently not noticing Kelly's disconcertion, "my spouse and I are staying in tonight, so I'm afraid we can't offer anything too elaborate..."

"Oh, no, that's fine." Kelly heaved a sigh of relief. "Thank you. I'd like to have dinner with you." She paused. "I didn't realize you were married."

"Two years," the Bajoran said shortly.

Kelly was further surprised to discover it was the ship's chief engineer who was waiting for the Bajoran in their quarters. The Klingon flickered only briefly when she realized they were having a guest for dinner, offering a short nod as she set another place at the small dining table, before directing Kelly to the small conversation area located in front of the large viewports lining the hull. Ro dug out a bottle of spring wine and brought the glasses over to the first officer and her wife. Kelly felt a little uncertain as she sat there, but she wasn't about to turn down a chance to get to know her fellow officers, particularly in more informal surroundings than the ship's bridge or engine room.

"So how did the negotiations go?" Torres asked, accepting the wine from her spouse as Ro settled on the sofa beside her.

Kelly observed quietly as Ro bestowed a fond smile on the Klingon and rested her hand lightly on her leg, so casually that the first officer suspected the Bajoran wasn't quite aware of what she had done. Obviously, the two women were very comfortable with each other, and not at all shy about being openly affectionate. It offered the first officer a glimpse into the heart of the security chief that she hadn't expected.

"Steady," Ro informed her spouse. "I think the captain has figured out a way to handle the StarScout representative." She paused. "She has Seven distracting Tazna Jade."

"Distracting? How?"

Ro hesitated, as if uncertain how to say it. "She's flirting with her."

Torres looked positively shocked. "Seven? You're kidding."

"I could hardly believe it either, but I know what I saw, and the captain didn't deny it."

"I wonder what the hell they're up to?"

Kelly cleared her throat. "Why does everyone call Lt. Hansen, Seven?"

Torres and Ro focused their attention on Kelly, as if suddenly remembering she was there. "Seven of Nine," Torres explained. "It's her Borg designation, and she prefers to be called that rather than Lt. Hansen."

"Why? I would think that a constant reminder of her assimilation would be the last thing she'd want."

Torres grinned suddenly, revealing sharp-edged teeth in a somewhat sardonic expression of amusement. "Well, Seven is pretty unique. In some ways, she's proud to be Borg."

"Proud might not be the precise word," Ro added, "but she's not bothered by it in the way you might expect, probably because she was assimilated so young. She grew up Borg. Nor does she care what anyone thinks about it."

"Yes," Kelly agreed thoughtfully, remembering the haughty demeanor she had seen on Hearthstone when the science officer pointedly ignored the captain. "She does display a certain independence around Janeway that other officers don't. I'm surprised the captain tolerates it."

B'Elanna laughed. "When it comes to the captain, Seven's always gotten away with murder."

Kelly absorbed that. So the science officer was a favorite with the captain. That was good to know. "I hadn't expected a captain like Janeway to allow such freedom of expression in a subordinate officer, no matter who she was."

Ro and B'Elanna exchanged a look that Kelly couldn't quite decipher.

"Maybe the captain isn't quite who you think she is, either," Ro told her quietly.

Kelly frowned, puzzled by the comment, but before she could pursue what was obviously a hint of some kind, Torres rose from the sofa. "Enough small talk. I'm hungry. What about you?"

Kelly, a little taken aback by what was undoubtedly the chief engineer's natural demeanor, could only nod and follow Ro to the table. There she was served a selection of Bajoran and Klingon dishes that made her completely forget her momentary curiosity regarding the captain and the science officer as she desperately tried to figure out the best way to consume her dinner.

Seven was rather horrified at how easy it was to manipulate Tazna Jade. All it required was a glance or a brief touch on her forearm at precisely the right moment, a soft word in her ear to distract her from the negotiations. The young woman had, in some odd way, expected much better of the Elthanian Intendant and was supremely disappointed in her.

But the kiss as they were saying good-bye had caught her completely by surprise, as it obviously had Janeway. The captain's back was stiff as they entered their quarters on Millennium, incipient fury radiating from every movement of her compact form. Janeway hadn't spoken a word to the Borg since the sarcastic rejoinder at Hearthstone's main transportation platform.

"You have no right to be angry with me," Seven said icily as the turbolift door slid shut behind them. "I am merely carrying out your instructions."

"I'm not angry with you," Janeway said shortly, moving over to the replicator. Seven frowned as the captain programmed in a whiskey and soda, not only at the blatant falsehood, but at the selection of drink the captain had chosen. Janeway took a long swallow from the golden liquid and peered darkly at the Borg. "Did you have to kiss her?"

Seven's mouth tightened. "Did you have to kiss Kashyk?"

"How did you know I kissed Kashyk?"

"That is irrelevant," Seven said, finally having a long-held suspicion confirmed. "In any event, I did not kiss Tazna Jade. She kissed me."

"You didn't try to stop her."

"That would have defeated the purpose of my assignment, Captain." Seven crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Janeway. The captain glared back, and for a few moments, there was only the sound of their breathing, harsh and steady in their dimly illuminated quarters. Janeway was the first to look away.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice tight. "I didn't think it would be as difficult as it is. Tazna was flirting with you anyway, so it should have been easier knowing that you were only putting up with it at my request. I was wrong."

Seven absorbed the apology, still angry, but not as much. "Do you want to terminate the operation?"

Janeway swallowed visibly, the muscles moving in her neck. "It's a good plan, and it's working wonderfully. I was able to advance the negotiations significantly today with your help. I can't allow my personal feelings affect my command decisions."

"They are already affecting your command decisions, or you would not have come up with this plan to deceive the Intendant and make her look foolish."

Janeway's jaw stiffened and her eyes flashed as they rose to meet Seven's. "One more day," she instructed firmly. "Then it will be over."

"Indeed." Seven wasn't pleased, but if she was required to undertake a task she didn't like, at least she was assured that her spouse disliked it just as much. She moved over to the kitchenette, intent on making dinner, not as a gift to Janeway this night, as it had been on so many occasions, but because the preparation of food relaxed and comforted her. She decided she would make something to please her own palate and not the captain's.

Janeway intercepted her as she went to move behind the counter. Putting her glass on the counter top, the captain reached up and took Seven's face in her hands, gripping it tightly. She studied the Borg's eyes for a moment, her expression still slightly angry. Seven stared back, rebellious, but not trying to pull away. Then Janeway kissed her hard, less with passion and more from sheer possessiveness. Her lips were redolent with whiskey

"Does that take the taste of her out of your mouth?" Janeway demanded huskily after she finally released her hold on the Borg.

Seven, deciding that the captain needed a reminder that marriage was a partnership of equals, seized Janeway by the biceps and kissed her back with authority, shoving her against the bulkhead. She felt Kathryn's teeth graze her lip and the small pain excited her somewhat, as did the feel of Janeway's firm body against her own. What started out as a battle of wills, increasing in intensity with every passing second, was beginning to translate itself into a passionate desire. The captain's respiration had accelerated measurably, and the Borg detected a decided increase in her heart rate. Of course, those could also be signs of outrage, she reminded herself dryly, as she drew back to face stormy, dark eyes.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Before the Borg could reply, Janeway's nostrils flared, and she shook Seven's hands from her arms. Reaching for Seven's uniform tunic, the captain tore it open in one motion and wrestled it over the Borg's shoulders, momentarily binding Seven in its folds. Tugging the sweater from Seven's pants, Janeway reached underneath to the bra, which she unfastened with one twist of her fingers. Her hands were warm, almost hot, as they grasped the Borg's breasts, squeezing almost painfully, her palms chaffing the nipples roughly. Despite the uncharacteristic forcefulness of the captain's advances, Seven found it thrilling, perhaps because she recognized the jealousy inciting it. It was very rare that Janeway gave into her baser impulses like this. Even during the incident when she had been influenced by Iboneb pheromones, she had maintained a determined control on herself.

Struggling briefly with the stubborn clothing and lacking the leverage to rip it, Seven discovered that the Starfleet-issued material resisted even her Borg strength. Janeway, in the meantime, had not hesitated to take advantage of Seven's temporary immobility, her hands dropping to the young woman's trousers, yanking the waistband over Seven's generous hips and pushing the pants down to her ankles, exposing the Borg to her feral attention. Falling to her knees before Seven, she pulled the golden triangle to her mouth with unusual strength.

"Oh!" Seven's eyes opened wide as she felt the unmistakable touch of the captain's tongue against her, soft and wet and wonderfully warm as it rasped over her nodule. The familiar caress was such a direct contrast to the out-of-control passions stirring them that the sheer pleasure of it nearly overwhelmed the Borg.

Finally, she was able to shrug out of her tunic, letting it drop to the floor. The edge of the butcher block counter top dug into the small of her back as she leaned against it, the smooth surface cold against her buttocks. Ignoring the minor discomforts, she reached down to tangle her fingers in the captain's auburn hair, pulling her closer. She exhaled audibly, a groan as Janeway used her hands to spread open the young woman further, granting her more access to the tender flesh. The sensation of the tongue probing her intimate channel turned Seven's knees to jelly, and it was only the hard side of the counter that kept her from slipping to the floor. Pleasure radiated through her in ever-increasing waves until abruptly, she reached her peak, surprised at how quickly and easily it had happened.

Leaning unsteadily against the counter, Seven watched as Janeway rose to her feet, wiping her mouth with the palm of her hand. Her eyes burned as they raked the Borg up and down with unquenchable desire.

"Come with me," she demanded in an imperious voice. "I'm not through with you yet." Seven knew that if Janeway had been at all capable of it, the little captain would have flung her spouse over her shoulder and carried the Borg aggressively off to the bedroom.

Intrigued, the Borg stumbled after Janeway, kicking off her boots and struggling out of her trousers. Whatever the argument had really been about, it had certainly shifted into a fascinating level of interaction, the type the Borg had never before encountered, at least, not with Kathryn.

The next morning, drained from an evening of excessive physical exertion, Seven tottered into the ensuite and stood under the healing jets of the shower's warm water, wondering at the dichotomy of her spouse. Clearly, Janeway hated the fact that her wife was flirting with Tazna Jade, yet she was not prepared to retract the order that required Seven to continue it. The result was an interesting division in Janeway, a defined fracture between captain and woman. While Seven may not have been as familiar with human psychology as the ship's counselor, she deemed it rather significant that Janeway had sensually murmured "Mine" on more than a few occasions as she crawled over Seven's body the previous evening, ravaging her with every skill at her disposal.

The Borg leaned against the side of the shower stall, head bent beneath the central jet, hoping that the negotiations would finish soon. Between enticing the Elthanian to further advances during the day, and assuaging the captain's jealousy at night, Seven's vaunted Borg endurance was dangerously close to reaching its limitations. She had actually been relieved, upon awakening from a few hours of sleep, to discover the captain had already left for the day. But a glance at the chronometer let Seven know she was running behind, and she would have to move a great deal quicker if she wanted to meet the rest of the away team in the transporter room. With an effort, Seven exited the shower and dried off, retrieving her uniform from the sink counter. It was only when she was pulling it on that she realized that Janeway had replicated the outfit for her, a small, unexpected domestic touch that warmed her heart in the wake of the previous night's heated passion.

She programmed in a quick breakfast drink and sipped it as she instructed the turbolift to take her to transporter room one. The rest of the team was already there, waiting impatiently, and Seven managed a bit of an apologetic expression. It wasn't something she was naturally good at, so it was unlikely any of the Starfleet officers outside of the captain detected Seven's sincere contrition. Placing her emptied mug on the transporter console for the operator to deal with, she took her place on the platform. Tazna Jade, along with the Soularri minister Seven identified as Peck, was waiting for them when they materialized.

The Elthanian was indicating none of the distaste for her companion that Seven had detected on a few other occasions, and the Borg wondered if she had misconstrued her earlier glimpses of discontent with the Soularri in the Elthanian. She did feel uneasy when Tazna immediately took her hand and kissed her cheek in greeting. The StarScout shot a quick look at Janeway as if checking to see whether the captain had noticed or not. Janeway didn't even glance in their direction, but Seven knew the captain was keenly aware of the presumption. She stifled a sigh, anticipating another difficult day ahead of her.

But she didn't have to try as hard to distract Tazna over the next few hours as she had expected. Frequently, before Seven could make a move, then Intendant turned to her, making a comment or offering a seductive smile. Seven wasn't sure if Janeway noticed the shift in aggression, but the captain took as much advantage of the Elthanian's apparent distraction as she had the day before. The Borg had an uncomfortable feeling that things weren't as they seemed, but she couldn't isolate the reason why she felt that way.

Between Tazna Jade's lack of opposition and Janeway's determination to bring these proceedings to a close, the rest of the negotiations went quickly. The Confederation only had one final request to add to the list.

"It's been decided that a representative will be placed on board your vessel while you explore the Beta Quadrant," Feurton Raith said. The elderly Elthanian offered the captain a particularly intent expression. "As a gesture of our shared interest in exploration, it would benefit this agreement and future negotiations between our cultures, for the Confederacy to be represented during your journey through this quadrant."

Janeway held her eyes steadily. "Did you have someone specific in mind, Speaker?"

Seven knew the captain was very afraid it would turn out to be someone already at the table ... such as the StarScout Intendant sitting next to the Borg.

One of the Soularri stood up. Since that actually made him shorter than when he was perched on his stool, he was forced to scramble back onto the chair to be seen. Seven identified him as Jiidan.

"I will be accompanying you, Captain."

The way he said it made it seem as if she had already granted the request. Seven knew that meant the Confederation would insist upon this concession, or the captain could find all her work the past two days had come to naught. Seven did not think Janeway would argue about it. The relief that had altered the shade of her eyes when it was revealed who had been chosen to represent the Confederation prompted a swift and gracious agreement.

Seven chose that moment to surreptitiously study the Intendant. She couldn't identify the expression in Tazna's gaze. She didn't think it was dismay, but it certainly wasn't approval either. It was a guarded reserve, as if the Elthanian was trying to determine how to utilize this development to her advantage. Seven wasn't sure what Tazna decided, because with that final concession agreed upon, the rest were all standing up, reaching across to shake hands in the manner of the Federation. A combined group of Starfleet and Confederation engineers would retrieve the various components currently stored in Millennium's cargo holds, and together, they would construct the pieces into an array that would move in synchronous orbit with the Hearthstone space station, the main port in the Elthanian sector. Many species made this a major port of call, but there was no question that the Elthanians would be the primary benefactors of this new technology.

It made Seven wonder why Tazna Jade had been so opposed to it.

A diplomatic function to celebrate the the successful negotiations was scheduled for the next evening in Hearthstone's largest ballroom. Once the array was in place, further diplomatic procedures involving the two civilizations would be undertaken, solidifying a relationship that spanned tens of thousands of light-years and two quadrants. Janeway was glad that any future talks would be looked after by Federation diplomats. It had been hard enough for her to arrange a fair and equitable settlement for something as straightforward as putting up a communications grid.

A tiny part of her wondered if she had done the best job possible, considering that she had resorted to a few Ferengi tricks to seal the deal.

She came out of the bedroom, tugging at her dress whites to settle them into place. Already dressed, Seven was standing in front of the viewports, hands linked behind her back, observing the space station in quiet contemplation. Janeway paused a second or so to fully appreciate her spouse in the silvery light of the stars, and then stole close, slipping her arms around the Borg's waist.

"Have I told you lately how beautiful you are?"

Seven lifted her chin, but did not look at her. "Not recently."

Janeway felt a twinge in the general vicinity of her chest and tightened her embrace. "Darling, you've been of tremendous assistance to these proceedings. I doubt I could have accomplished such a favorable deal for the Federation without you."

"I think that you underestimate your ability."

Janeway didn't like the quiet tone in Seven's voice, nor that note of wistfulness. She especially didn't like that she was partially responsible for that sense of regret. She rested her forehead on the Borg's shoulder. "I promise, I'll never ask you to do anything like this again."

Seven finally turned to look at her. "You cannot promise that," she said with a certainty that made Janeway uncomfortable. "If, as captain, you encounter another situation where such a deception would prove useful, then you will be forced to ask, simply to remain true to yourself as the commanding officer of Millennium. However, it is up to me to refuse such a request. Now that I know what it is like to be so misleading about my emotions, I shall not repeat the experience."

There was a tone of finality in her words that Janeway immediately recognized. "I understand. For what it's worth, Annika, I'm sorry."

"There is nothing to apologize for, Kathryn," Seven told her evenly. "You did not make it an order. It was entirely my decision as an individual in agreeing with your plan. I accept full responsibility for my actions." She paused. "I wanted to know how easy it was to utilize emotional manipulation, especially when it would better help me understand the incident with Kashyk. Now that I am aware of what we both are capable, it remains a distasteful truth about Humanity."

Janeway was silent as she absorbed that. "Is this going to impact on our relationship?" she asked finally, in a small voice. Dear God, what have I done?

Seven looked thoughtful, studying the captain's face closely. Her eyes lightened. "I do not believe so."

"I'll do my absolute best to make this up to you, my darling." Janeway took a breath, relief flowing liquid within her.

Finally, a smile of sorts touched the Borg's full lips. "I am certainly not adverse to your trying."

"Let's start by enjoying the party. A night out will do us some good."

"Perhaps, though I doubt we shall find the opportunity for emotional connection at a diplomatic function."

"I'll dance only with you tonight," Janeway promised, looking up into the brilliant blue gaze. "There'll be no question of who you really belong to."

"Or to whom you belong."

"Or to whom I belong," she agreed sheepishly.

An hour later, the couple entered the large ballroom arm in arm, swept up immediately by the crowd enjoying the food and music. The rest of the Federation negotiating team had also been invited, but Kelly had chosen to pull a double duty shift, while Ro Laren had sent her assistant security chief, M'Reek, in her stead. The slender young man with the wild hair was currently shadowing the captain and science officer in an unobtrusive manner that reminded Janeway uncomfortably of the surveillance she and Seven had been under during their brief leave on Earth. Nog had begged off, since he wasn't allowed to do any further dealing, and expressed the opinion to the captain that he would have a much better time on the station. Janeway had offered a brief leave rotation to him and the rest of the alpha and gamma shifts, allowing them to partake of Hearthstone's hospitality. The beta shift would be able to take their leave the next day before the construction of the array began.

Janeway felt her spouse stiffen beside her as Tazna Jade made her way through the crowd toward them. She was holding two glasses of a bubbly drink remarkably similar to champagne, handing one to Seven who didn't know how to refuse it, while totally ignoring the captain. It was so outrageously blatant that Janeway had no choice but to smile, her hand firm on the Borg's elbow.

"Seven, I hope you're prepared to dance the night away," Tazna told the science officer with her customary suaveness.

"I am afraid that will be impossible," Seven said stiffly. She looked distinctly uneasy "I will be dancing with my wife for the duration of the evening."

"And every evening from now on," Janeway said firmly, as she slipped her arm around the Borg's waist and stared challengingly at the Elthanian.

Tazna's mouth tightened, and as she returned the captain's look, Janeway saw the dawning acknowledgment in the Elthanian's eyes, the realization that Seven had been deceiving her. The captain tensed, expecting an outburst, but in another second, the tension seemed to pass and Jade lifted her glass.

"Well played, Seven," she said with a graciousness Janeway suspected that she could never hope to match in a similar situation. "You know my weakness. The more I want something, the more I go after it, and I greatly wanted you. It's distressing to know that the attraction you displayed the past few days was only an illusion."

"It was my call, Intendant." Janeway said, one commander to another, forestalling what Seven might have said. "She was acting under my orders not to discourage your attentions until the negotiations were over." She paused, looking for a way to ease this somehow. "If it's any consolation, I'm much the same type of person. The larger the obstacles in the way of what I want, the harder I try to get past them."

Tazna pinned her with those emerald eyes, and the captain suddenly felt a chill. There was something about that look, a sense of imminent danger, as if the Elthanian was about to pounce on her and rip her to shreds. Perhaps the Intendant wasn't taking this with as much equanimity as Janeway had thought. Then Tazna blinked, and the sense of impending doom disappeared, leaving Janeway to wonder if she had imagined it.

"Actually," Tazna offered in her melodious voice, "that was a trait I recognized in you very early, Captain Janeway. Making concessions appear very difficult to achieve made you work all the harder to incorporate them into your half of the negotiations." She lifted her chin, the antennae unfurling to stand straight out, as if she were sensing the captain in some way. "The Elthanians will benefit greatly by having the Federation array in our space, allowing us to study its technology at our leisure. I'm so glad that the Soularri weren't able to convince you to construct it elsewhere in the Confederation, particularly in their sector."

She lifted her glass again, somewhat mockingly, and drifted off, heading for a group of StarScout officers, all Elthanian, who were grazing the buffet table. Janeway's sense of heady triumph turned to ashes in her mouth. Tazna Jade's obstinate stand on certain vital points during the negotiation abruptly became clear. Revealed as clever manipulation rather than true objections, they had been manufactured gauntlets thrown down in front of the captain, daring her to pick them up, which Janeway, in all her pride and need to prove herself superior to Jade, went out of her way to do. Tazna Jade had maneuvered Janeway into putting the array in the exact spot the StarScouts wanted, right next to their main base at Hearthstone, utilizing something as simple and basic as reverse psychology.

"I think it's time for me to retire," she said tightly, between clenched teeth.

Seven, only now beginning to realize that things had turned around on her spouse, was staring after the Elthanian with dawning dismay. "Kathryn?"

"You were right, Annika," Janeway said painfully, "I let my personal feelings affect my command. Showing up the Intendant become more important than doing what was best for Starfleet and the Federation. She used it to beat me at my own game."

Seven put a hand on her shoulder. "Is it relevant, Kathryn? Synchronous orbit with Hearthstone was determined to be the most advantageous location for the array by the Federation before we came here, regardless of what Tazna Jade may have wanted. Starfleet expects a thorough examination of Federation technology to take place. Otherwise, they would not have agreed to construct it within the Confederation."

Janeway inhaled slowly. "You're right, and now that I think about it, I can't even be sure that Jade was playing me. She may have been trying to cover her embarrassment at being fooled." But Janeway didn't believe her words. The Elthanian had taken the revelation of Seven's deception far too well. No one was that composed, not even the haughty Intendent. She had suckered Janeway from the beginning, and the captain was just going to have to come to terms with that knowledge. "Come on," she added gently, taking the Borg's hand in her own. "Let's dance. I feel in dire need of your arms around me right now."

It wasn't that easy of course. As they made their way to the dance floor, Janeway was intercepted several times by various Confederation dignitaries, including those she had dealt with directly over the negotiating table. Elthanians tended to be quite effusive as a rule, and Janeway found herself in several lengthy conversations with them, while Seven stood by patiently, occasionally injecting a comment or question, but mostly remaining silent. Janeway was very aware of her spouse's steadfast support, wanting nothing more than to relieve Seven's forced adherence to duty, but conscious of their status as the Federation's representatives. She tried to speed things along by unleashing the full rein of her personality on those with whom she was speaking, smoothly extricating herself from each conversation as quickly as she could.

Finally, the couple made it to the dance floor, moving into each other's arms with familiar grace and no little relief. As the captain nestled in her partner's embrace, resting her head against the young woman's shoulder, she relaxed and began to enjoy herself for the first time in the evening.

Seven pressed her cheek against the captain's. "You taught me to dance here on Hearthstone."

Janeway made a small sound, half amusement, half-reminiscing. "So I did. I'd forgotten that. It was in that restaurant on the entertainment level. You had never danced before." She drew back to look into her eyes. "Now you're an absolutely fabulous dancer."

"There was great incentive for me to learn," Seven told her with a slight smile. "I enjoy being able to hold you in public as much now as I did then."

Janeway squeezed lightly, her expression soft as she regarded her. "I know it's difficult to be married to a starship captain."

"Only occasionally."

Janeway blinked, surprised. "I'm glad. I know that in the field, I'm more apt to see you as an officer first and my spouse second." She paused. "I wish that weren't the case."

Seven pulled her closer. "I understand, Kathryn."

"I know you do, but honestly, Annika, you don't have to be so understanding all the time," Janeway whispered. "It's all right to be angry with me, if you want."

Seven lifted a brow with gentle amusement. "You merely like the passion that our arguing generates, as it did a few nights ago. In truth, the larger percentage of our disagreements end in hurt feelings and unhappiness for us both."

"Yes, but on those rare occasions when anger turns to passion, I really like it."

"Perhaps we could skip the anger and immediately move on to the passion."

"That works, too," Janeway told her agreeably. The memory of Seven pushing her up against the bulkhead and kissing her senseless excited her even now, and she wondered how she could entice the Borg into another such encounter. Perhaps some Klingon role-playing?

"What are you thinking?" Seven was eyeing her with a strange expression and Janeway had the grace to blush.

"Just about passion," she prevaricated. "I really am going to make this all up to you, darling."

"Of course, Kathryn." Seven nuzzled her lightly.

"You have already begun."

With a good percentage of the ship's engineering and science staff involved in the construction of the communications array, the rest of the crew found themselves with a certain amount of free time on their hands. Kelly was not surprised when Ro contacted her to let her know the training run had been scheduled. Was the first officer still interested in participating?

"I can't wait," Kelly responded honestly before tapping the comm badge to close the channel. She left the padds she had been working on and went into the bedroom where she dug out her favorite phaser rifle from the footlocker at the end of the bed. Checking it over lovingly, she made sure that it was fully charged, its scarred and scratched finish glinting dully in the light, the stock feeling very familiar in her hands. The weapon had been with Kelly through the entire Dominion War, and had never let her down, including a few instances when it had been all that was left between her and certain death.

Ro and the rest of her team were waiting by the main doors leading to the holodeck. The Bajoran raised an eyebrow when she saw that the first officer had brought her own weapon, but she didn't comment. Instead, she indicated the rest of the security team.

"Lt. D'Or, Ensign Decker, Lt. Chow, and of course, you know M'Reek, my assistant," she introduced shortly.

Kelly nodded to each one. D'Or was a fresh faced young man from Bajor, light-haired, with that anxious look of anticipation that puppy dogs have when going out with their master on a walk. He hefted his phaser rifle impatiently. Decker was short but thin, wiry in build and looking almost rodent-like, as if he could scurry into tight spaces, do what had to be done, and be gone before anyone was the wiser. He wore only a hand phaser. Kelly suspected the rest of his weapons were concealed. Chow was much taller, with dark hair and eyes, solid across the chest, arms and shoulders, indicating she had been born on a world with a higher gravity than normal, condensing bone and muscle into solid mass. She displayed no weapons at all. The tall, slender M'Reek, meanwhile, had two swords strapped across his back and two daggers strapped to his thighs, in addition to the traditional hand phaser and rifle.

"Okay, this is a standard seek and destroy," Ro continued. "Hostiles have taken over the ship, and it's up to each team to secure the bridge and the engine room respectively. We'll be starting equal distance from the goal. M'Reek, you take a team and head for the bridge. My team will take the engine room."

"Aye, Commander," he said. "I'll take Decker and Kelly."

Kelly was slightly disappointed that she wouldn't be with Ro, but these were the sort of people she understood and with whom she felt comfortable. She lifted her chin as she glanced at the Bajoran for clarification. "Is Lt. M'Reek my team leader?"

Ro blinked, as if temporarily forgetting that Kelly ranked them all. "In this instance, until we have a better sense of your abilities, we need to consider you the junior member of the team. Is that agreeable with you, Commander?"

Kelly shrugged. "It's your game, Commander. I'm fine with it."

"Good." Ro paused. "It's not entirely a game, Kiara. The safeties are off. You can get hurt, and if you're particularly unlucky, you might even get killed."

"I understand. It's not a problem, Laren. I can just as easily get killed falling down an access ladder between decks."

Ro gave her another evaluating glance but didn't argue. She jerked her head. "M'Reek, you're through first."

He nodded briefly, a feral smile decorating his tanned features. His reddish-brown hair was tied back in a short ponytail at the base of his neck, his dark eyes narrow with anticipation. Kelly wasn't sure what species he belonged to, but he definitely didn't move like a typical Humanoid. Decker did, but in a very sneaky way, as if he were on the run from someone, perhaps from the law. Had this been a civilian setting, and she didn't know any better, Kelly would have kept her distance, suspecting on looks alone that he would knock her over her head at the first opportunity and steal everything she had. But the uniform crossed many barriers, and she didn't hesitate as he took his place behind her.

After crossing to the other side of the holodeck, the gridlines abruptly disappeared, leaving only the light from the doorway and the outside corridor reflecting within. Kelly stumbled a bit, freezing in place, as the door slid shut and left them in total blackness.

"Steady," M'Reek murmured. "The rest are setting up. The lights will come on for both teams at the same time."

Kelly waited, her eyes straining to pierce the dark even as she knew it was futile. When the lights suddenly came on, she was nearly blinded, and was forced to blink several times before her vision cleared. When things came into focus, she didn't recognize where she was, the starship corridors narrow and somewhat cramped in comparison to her new ship.

"This isn't Millennium," she blurted.

"No," M'Reek said grimly as he looked around. "I'm betting it's Voyager."

"Ah, dammit," Decker moaned, looking disgusted. "You should have taken D'Or instead of me. He served on Voyager, and with him on her team, Ro's gonna have all the advantages in this scenario."

"The chief's always fair, Decker," M'Reek said shortly, waving off the other man's argument. "She took the harder route and probably the more concentrated enemy."

Kelly lifted her rifle uneasily. "Who is the enemy?"

"That's the problem, uh, Commander," Decker explained, belatedly remembering who she was. "It could be any species from the Delta Quadrant." He shook his head. "I hope there aren't any bugs. I'd rather face a squad of Jem'Hadar."

"Bugs?"

"Species 8472," M'Reek explained tersely. "They fought the Borg to a standstill before Voyager got involved and chased them back to fluidic space. Their physiology is completely incompatible with Humanoid life. A mere scratch will start turning you into the equivalent of seaweed. Oh, and they're sort of telepathic, so they generally know you're coming. They're twice as big as we are, and three times as strong, with an incredible regenerative factor. The only thing that'll kill them is a phaser rifle modified to carry enhanced nanoprobes in the energy beam. If it's the bugs, we'll have to sneak our way to the armory to pick some up before even thinking of fighting our way to the bridge."

Kelly stared at him, feeling somewhat numbed by his brief explanation of the possible threat. Voyager chased these things back into their own space?

"Maybe it won't be them," Decker said hopefully in the sort of tone that indicated he didn't believe his own words.

"Quiet," M'Reek ordered, obviously tired of the speculation. "Let's move out."

Hands suddenly slippery with sweat, Kelly followed as they made their way cautiously down the corridor. Turning a corner, she felt a chill when she saw the first of the bodies scattered over the deck. They were dressed in old style uniforms, with the department color banding the shoulders rather than designated by the sweaters.

"What the hell?"

Kelly regretted her inadvertent outburst as M'Reek knelt beside the closest crumpled form, pressing his fingers against the neck. On the other side of the fallen officer's throat, there was a wound of some kind but no blood.

"Still alive," the security officer said, his gaze thoughtful. "But he's paralyzed. Ideas?"

"Could be the Kazon," Decker said, obviously thinking quickly. "When they took over the ship, they might have drugged them. Or the pitcher plant when it forced hallucinations on everyone."

Kelly blinked, completely mystified. M'Reek shot a look at her. "Commander, did you bring along a tricorder?" His voice was slightly deferential, and belatedly, she remembered the device she had attached to her tunic before leaving her quarters. She handed it to him, wondering why he didn't use the one lying next to the fallen Voyager crewmember. He seemed to recognize her puzzlement. "On some simulations, the tricorders just don't work. Since this is a real one, it should detect something." He studied the readings for a few minutes. "Oh, so that's it."

"What?"

Before he could answer, the wound on the nearby body began to twitch, and Kelly took a step back, horrified. Something ... tiny, fluttering things of some sort ... began to fly up, as if freed from their prison, looking like insects. Had they been inside the body, feasting on it? The first officer felt a little sick.

"Move back," M'Reek ordered, his voice suddenly urgent. "Before they infect one of us." He turned and began to run down a nearby corridor. "Follow me."

Kelly took off after him, not sure why she was fleeing, but trusting her teammate's assessment of the situation. They skidded around another corner, and Kelly nearly took a tumble as she saw the captain running toward them. In Janeway's wake were several flying creatures, round and thick, about two meters wide, with a sharp barb on the underside, stabbing at the fleeing officer. M'Reek didn't hesitate, firing his weapon above the captain's head. Decker and Kelly quickly followed suit, shooting at the buzzing forms as they approached. The first officer was gratified to see that they crashed and burned with satisfying finality under the concentrated phaser fire.

The firefight lasted only a minute, and when it was over, the captain looked at them with stern arrogance. Dressed only in a slate-blue tank-top and uniform trousers, Janeway was hefting a phaser rifle that appeared bigger than she was. Her face and arms were smudged with sweat and dirt, her auburn hair awry. She raked the security team with a burning glance. "Get to the bridge," she ordered sharply, and Kelly belatedly realized this was a hologram, acting as the captain would have during that original encounter. "I'm heading for sickbay. The Doctor is developing an antigen for the macrovirus, but you're going to have to keep the Tak Tak at bay before they destroy the ship and cost us any chance at solving this problem."

The holographic Janeway didn't wait to hear any comments at her revelation, sprinting down the corridor away from them. Kelly blinked after her, trying to reconcile the feisty little warrior with the staid, uptight captain she had been exposed to since boarding Millennium. Ro must have enhanced the program a little, she thought idly.

"Damn."

Confused, Kelly looked at Decker. M'Reek caught her puzzlement and lifted his chin. "That means there's a time limit on this. If we can't get to the bridge and prevent the Tak Tak from blowing us up before the captain releases the antigen, we'll lose the game." He started off at a steady jog, not looking behind to see if they followed. It was just assumed that they would.

The next little while were a series of nightmare encounters for the first officer, struggling to keep up with the rest of her team. The fully-grown swarms of macrovirus attacked them at every turn, and though they died easily, their numbers appeared unlimited. At one point, Kelly found herself on her back, the deck cold and hard beneath her spine as she fought off the eyeless, mouthless creature pinning her down. The barb on its underside jabbed at her with stunning force, and she was barely able to fend it off with her rifle. At one point, the barb stabbed the deck beside her head, the officer jerking away just in time. She was keenly aware that while the so-called infective nature of the virus was simulated in this program, the sharp point of the curved stinger was not. With the safeties off, it would have impaled her left eye and left her, if not dead, then severely incapacitated for the next few days. She cried out as M'Reek lunged toward her and dispatched the thing with his swords, the blades flashing with astonishing speed and skill as they sliced her attacker apart and left the first officer splattered by greenish goo.

Eventually making it to the bridge and utilizing the Intrepid-class ops and tactical stations to fight a minor space battle was practically a walk in the park in comparison, though the Tak Tak ships were quick and quite powerful. When the call came in from sickbay that the antigen had been released, the macrovirus had been destroyed and the crew was waking up, Kelly nearly wept from the sheer relief of being able to finally stop and rest.

She slumped over the helm, breathing heavily. Sweat streaked her face, and she discovered that somewhere along the line, she had lost her cherished phaser rifle. She was too exhausted to be properly horrified at that realization, wondering if two years of sitting on her ass in the captain's chair on Grissom, commanding patrol runs, had completely dulled her combat edge. She didn't remember ever feeling this dragged out after a battle.

At ops, in direct contrast to the first officer, Decker was thoroughly pleased with the situation, grinning wildly as he shot a look at M'Reek, who was covering the tactical station.

"I was wrong, buddy," he said cheerfully. "You knew what you were doing when you brought the commander along."

M'Reek nodded, and Kelly, who hadn't done much beyond survive for the duration of the exercise, looked at them oddly. "What do you mean?"

Decker shrugged. "We only had to get past the damn mosquitoes," he said, obviously utilizing some kind of nickname for the macrovirus. "Ro took it easy on you."

"Easy on me?" Kelly repeated stupidly.

"Yeah, if you'd been on the other team, then M'Reek and I would have had to go through something like the Hirogen, or the Borg, or at the very least, the Vidiians."

"Vidiians?"

"A species that harvested organs from other races in order to replace those they lost from the phage, a disease that attacks and destroys their genetic code," M'Reek explained shortly. "Far more technologically advanced than we are, medically speaking." He was standing quietly, carefully wiping the greenish goo from his swords. "Decker's right. The macrovirus is probably the least dangerous of the threats Voyager encountered in the Delta Quadrant." He offered her a small smile, obviously intended to encourage her. "But don't worry, Commander. Now that Ro knows how well you can handle yourself, she'll be sure to throw in the more challenging stuff for you next time."

Kelly just stared at him, unable to formulate a response of any kind.

Seven looked over the main board of the command center for the array and made a few adjustments in the data stream. Surrounding her on the bulkheads, various screens flickered with static or computer readouts as the combined crew of Starfleet and StarScouts brought the huge communications hub online. In front of the Borg, just beyond the main panel, a large viewport looked out onto the Hearthstone space station, and beyond that, to the sleek shape of the orbiting Millennium.

It appeared so tiny from this distance, Seven thought idly.

The construction was progressing rapidly, and it was the Borg's hope that they would have the last interior details completed by the end of the week. She supposed that she shouldn't be as anxious to leave Confederation space as she was, but it still made her uncomfortable to know the role she played in fooling the Elthanian Intendant ... assuming she had fooled her at all. Regardless of the level of Jade's awareness in what was going on, it was Seven's own actions that bothered her the most. Deception, despite its usefulness, left her feeling uncomfortable and less than who she believed herself to be.

"Lieutenant?"

Seven turned to look at T'Shanik who was assisting with the installation of the array's main control systems. Starfleet officers would monitor any communications from the Federation in this room, as well as from Millennium as it made its way through the Beta Quadrant. Six volunteers had been chosen to remain in the Confederation over the next year, living and working in the array itself, the control station centered within the vast grid that spread around it. The amenities and hospitality of Hearthstone were only a shuttle ride away, and Seven knew that, despite the cramped quarters, manning the array was not considered an onerous assignment, particularly by those individuals who didn't always enjoy the thrill of exploration, yet had found themselves posted to the Millennium by virtue of Starfleet's duty rotation. There were also a couple of anthropologists who wanted the chance to study the Confederation up close for a concentrated period of time. The ship's counselor had picked the six most compatible individuals who, hopefully, would not find cause to kill each other in the close confines of the array.

"Yes, Lieutenant?" The Vulcan showed her the information on the padd she was carrying. Seven ran through it quickly. "A variation in the power couplings," she identified. "Send a repair team to adjust the input ratio."

T'Shanik nodded and moved off to dispatch the team of technicians to make the repairs. Seven looked after her for a moment. Of the junior group of officers the Borg had befriended during Millennium's first mission, only T'Shanik and Nog remained. The rest had moved on, Tarn and Spencer to Voyager under Captain Zar, while Marcos had taken an assignment on the Titan, Captain Riker's ship. It made her wistful and somewhat wary of befriending any of the new people who had arrived on Millennium in this second year. She knew that individuals would come and go in her life, but it was still not easy for her. The gradual drifting apart that occurred as people's lives led them on different paths, was not something she thought was a necessary addition to her development into Humanity.

Of course, she noted sternly to herself, it was probably not the loss of the junior officers in her life that made her so melancholy this day. It was Naomi Wildman. On Voyager, Seven and the ship's only child had developed a close bond, so close that Seven had found herself longing for a child of her own to exponentially increase the love she was experiencing. After their return to the Alpha Quadrant, however, Naomi had remained on DS9 while Seven went home to Earth with the captain. The Borg had tried to stay in touch, faithfully transmitting a letter every week to the girl, but while Naomi had responded enthusiastically at first, her replies had gradually tapered off. When Seven discovered that the Wildmans were being assigned to Millennium, she had been exceptionally happy, anticipating that the close relationship she had enjoyed with the girl would be renewed.

It hadn't worked out that way. Certainly, Naomi had been glad to see her and had dropped by the captain's quarters often in those early months to catch up, but eventually, she stopped coming by without a specific invitation from Seven. The child had grown physically, as well. Katarians matured faster than did Humans, and though Naomi had been three on Voyager when Seven first met her, she had actually looked and acted like a six-year-old. Now that she was eight, her maturation had slowed somewhat to that of a Human child just entering puberty. Seven discovered to her dismay that she could no longer connect to her in the way they once had. The previous day, they had planned to drop by Hearthstone to go shopping together, but Naomi had called at the last moment and canceled. She had not been particularly tactful in indicating that she preferred to go with her sister and friends from school rather than with Seven.

Seven understood that the youngster would have more in common with those she interacted with most of the time, rather than the ship's science officer, yet it had still hurt to realize that she was no longer considered Naomi's close friend. Janeway, when informed of the canceled plans, had hugged her spouse tightly in complete understanding, though her words of comfort did little to make Seven feel better about the sense of loss.

Now the Borg wondered how many more people would drift out of her life in the same matter. B'Elanna was still close, of course, and so was Ro, but that was because both couples had been in the position to maintain close ties, both on Earth and subsequently in being assigned to Millennium. Seven and Icheb had made an effort to ride their horses together in Arizona over this past leave whenever they could, but he had also altered in demeanor. As a result of his attending Starfleet Academy, he was suddenly very aware of her being a senior lieutenant while he was only a cadet. Their interaction had been stiff and uncomfortable at times, completely different from what she had known with the young man while he had lived on Voyager.

It seemed painfully ironic that Tazna Jade, whom Seven had not seen in five years and did not particularly care about other than as a charming and intellectually appealing acquaintance, had changed so little. Her attentions to Seven were of the same type and intensity she had shown during their first encounter. Seven merely understood it better now, to the point where she had tried to exploit it for her own gain. A blush of shame warmed her cheeks at the reminder, and she refocused her attention on the board. This was not the time or place to be indulging in regrets and recriminations about things that she could do nothing to change.

A motion at the door caught her eye and she looked over, feeling a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach as she recognized the Elthanian Intendant. She dropped her hands to her side and stiffened, waiting as Tazna entered the room.

"It's coming along very quickly, Seven," she said in her melodious voice.

"It is, Intendant," the Borg said formally. "We hope to have the final installation completed by the end of the week."

Tazna lifted her brow, the antennae wafting lightly in the still air of the operations center. Her emerald eyes were somewhat regretful as she looked over the Borg. "You used to call me Jade, my dear."

Seven exhaled slowly, taking a precious few seconds to formulate a response. "I believed I had lost that privilege after my actions."

Tazna blinked, obviously surprised. "That?" She waved it off. "That was strategy, Seven, a matter of tactics played out between two old starship commanders who think themselves equally clever in diplomatic maneuvering. I certainly took no offense at it. My only disappointment was that you were the instrument Janeway utilized to get around me. I expected her to respect you as more than a mere tool to be used in the games we play." She shrugged. "Still, as you in the Federation have said, all's fair in love and war."

Seven found the saying distasteful, but probably quite Human.

Tazna stood near. "I appreciate that you have no interest in me on a physical level, but I would hate to think this would negatively impact our friendship. I very much enjoyed our intellectual discussions, far more than any romantic fantasy I may have entertained."

"Thank you, In-- Jade." Seven felt a little better about things.

"So explain to me the function of this structure," Tazna went on, lifting her hand to indicate her surroundings. "I am aware that Starfleet officers will man the station in the beginning, but it's hoped that we will eventually be able to take over its maintenance."

Seven dipped her head. "That is also what the Federation hopes. Over the next year, the array's personnel will train their replacements selected from the ranks of the StarScouts."

Seven showed her the control room, explaining how the array would pick up subspace communication from anywhere in the quadrant and bounce it to the Pathfinder array orbiting Jupiter in the Terran system. Then she took the Elthanian on a brief tour through the three cramped living quarters, the small gym, holosuite, and finally, the tiny mess that would double as a conference area. The six officers had yet to move in, but three of them had already placed personal items in a couple of the cabins, making their claim ahead of time. The tour was short, and the two women soon ended up back where they had started.

Tazna's emerald eyes were warm as she regarded the Borg. "I don't suppose I could entice you to dinner?"

Seven shook her head. "I cannot.  Kathryn would not be comfortable with it." She paused. "May I ask you a question, Jade?"

"Please."

"You are an admiral individual, intelligent, attractive, and charming.  Why have you not made a permanent liaison with another?"

Tazna shrugged. "I'm not ready for mating."

Seven took note of the inflection. The way it was said indicated something more than how the word translated. "Jade, do you comprehend the bond between Captain Janeway and myself?"

Tazna half shrugged. "You coupulate. I think that's great. Frankly, Janeway looks like she could use that sort of recreation on a regular basis."

Seven's lips twitched, not sure whether to be amused or offended for her spouse. "It is more than merely 'sleeping together'. Are there no legal and social unions formed between individuals in your culture? Permanent, monogamous ones?"

Tazna blinked. "Of course. When it comes time to produce offspring, a mating occurs that precludes sexual interest in others. Why?"

Seven considered it. "A 'mating' is what Kathryn and I share."

Tazna suddenly looked stricken. "You have no offspring, nor plans for any. You told me that yourself."

"Not yet, but in our culture, such joining is not dependent on producing offspring, only on the agreement between two individuals to be bonded." Seven finally understood why the term 'married' did not fully translate.

Tazna frowned. "I am ... truly sorry, Seven. I was of the understanding that Humans did not have a biological imperative to mate, unlike ourselves. They were capable of physical interaction with whomever they wished at any time."

Seven shook her head. "You believed I was available for physical encounters since I did not have children."

"You indicated you were."

Seven felt a flush of embarrassment. "You found it easy to accept, because you did not understand why it would be impossible for me to betray Kathryn in that manner. I took advantage of that cultural misunderstanding." She dipped her head. "I am the one who is sorry."

Tazna blinked, absorbing this new revelation. "I, of course, as a different species, determined if you were biologically compatible for a physical interaction with me, but I didn't explore the varied levels of interaction of your particular culture." She tilted her head. "You and Janeway are more than physically involved."

"Exactly."

"Why pretend otherwise?"

"To gain the advantage in the negotiations."

Tazna considered that. "Ah," she said after a moment. Her eyes grew lidded. "This is intriguing, Seven. It makes you a more dangerous species than I first anticipated. Your actions are not as predictable as I thought."

Seven lifted a brow. "Indeed." She wondered if Tazna was referring to the Borg or to Humans. "Do you need for us to be predictable?"

"I need to be able to understand you."

Seven tilted her head. "That is what this communications array may provide; a way for our two civilizations to better understand each other."

Tazna's eyes flickered, but she didn't respond. Instead, she offered that odd little bow characteristic of Elthanians and took Seven's hand, kissing it lightly. "To future understanding." The Elthanian made a move to leave, and then turned back at the last second. "Seven, please, continue to study our differences," she said in a low, earnest voice. "As we have discovered, things may not always be as they seem. They are particularly not what they appear with the Soularri. Do not trust Jiidan."

Seven lifted her chin. "Elaborate."

Tazna parted her lips, paused as a group of technicians entered the control center, and closed them firmly. Whatever she had been about to say, was irretrievably lost.

"Just remember what I said, Seven."

She offered another formal half bow to the Borg and left, not looking back as she exited the room. Seven stared after her, puzzled, confused, and not a little concerned. For the rest of her duty shift, the Elthanian's words bothered her, filling her thoughts even as she returned to Millennium and headed for her cabin, wondering if she should share this with the captain though she still lacked a great deal of relevant data.

She faltered as she entered the captain's quarters, startled by what awaited her.

Janeway lit the last of the candles and looked around the room a final time, making sure everything was ready. She knew Seven was on her way to their quarters, the transporter room having contacted her as per instructions to let the captain know the Borg had beamed back from array. With any luck, a romantic and passionate evening would drive away the last of this unfortunate business with Tazna Jade.

The door to their quarters hissed open and Janeway straightened, holding two glasses of wine as a sort of offering. Seven hesitated briefly when she saw the captain dressed in a silken gown of dark blue, one leg poking provocatively through the slit up the front. The gown was cut low at the neck, displaying all the cleavage it could manage. Janeway modified her expression into one of pure sensuality, intending to leave little doubt about what she had in mind.

Seven merely blinked and moved past the captain to the computer station where she immediately set to work. Janeway was deeply disappointed, and even a little annoyed at being ignored so blithely.

"Annika?"

"A moment, Kathryn," Seven said, not looking up as she intently input commands into the computer, her fingers flying over the control pad.

Janeway started to feel slightly ridiculous standing there with two glasses of wine, attempting to look sexy when all her partner appeared interested in was the data streaming across the viewscreen.

"Can't you do that later?"

"I wish to initiate a line of inquiry while we are still in contact with the Hearthstone database," Seven explained absently. "It will not take long."

Janeway rolled her eyes and exhaled audibly. "Care to tell me what this is about?"

Seven shook her head. "I do not yet have the necessary information to offer a comprehensive report." She input a few final commands and then turned to look at Janeway. "You look very nice, Kathryn." Her tone was polite, nothing more.

Janeway pursed her lips. "A little more enthusiasm would be appreciated, Seven."

"Why?"

Janeway lifted the glasses, spreading her arms. "I'm trying to make up with you, darling."

"We are not arguing."

"Dammit, we soon will be," Janeway snapped, turning around and placing the glasses on the kitchenette counter. When she looked back at the Borg, Seven looked vaguely perplexed, and with an effort, the captain dampened down her temper. "I'm sorry. I guess I had a preconceived idea of how this evening would go."

"It is obvious from your attire how you wish the evening to go, Kathryn. However, I am not always in accord with your mood."

"Is something wrong?"

Seven linked her hands behind her back and assumed a thoughtful mien. "I am concerned that we are accepting too many things about the Confederation at face value. That could prove dangerous."

Janeway lifted her chin, her command persona suddenly back in full force. "Do you have some reason to feel this way?"

Seven hesitated, and then shook her head. "Again, I lack the necessary data." She appeared slightly frustrated. "I believe there is something more that we need to discover, Captain. Something about how the Elthanians and the Soularri interact, something that we're missing at present."

Janeway perched on the nearby stool and propped her elbow on the counter, resting her chin on her thumb and forefinger as she regarded the Borg keenly. "But you don't have anything specific?"

"No."

"All right. We'll just have to keep our ears and eyes open. At least, we'll have a Soularri on the ship as a source."

"Possibly a one-sided source."

"Possibly."

The couple fell silent, regarding each other for a moment. Seven's brilliant blue eyes softened, as did her voice. "You really do look lovely, Kathryn."

Janeway smiled, recognizing the honest attempt by her spouse to reach for the mood the captain had been attempting. "Thank you, darling."

She reached out her hand, and obligingly, the Borg took several steps across the room to accept it, allowing the captain to pull her into an embrace. Though the stool was tall, it still left Janeway shorter than the Borg, the top of her head barely reaching Seven's chin. The captain slipped her arms around her and buried her face in the crook of Seven's neck.

Seven hugged her, bending her head to rest her cheek on Janeway's hair. "I am sorry I am not feeling more amorous, Kathryn."

"You feel what you feel, darling," Janeway said contritely. "Don't apologize for it. In fact, I'm the one who should be apologizing. You've obviously had a long day, and I would have seen that immediately if I hadn't been so intent on jumping on you as soon as you walked through the door." She drew back, looking up at the young woman. "Take a seat on the sofa," she offered in her most persuasive tone. I'll look after dinner." She poked the Borg with her thumb when she saw the wince. "I'll use one of your programs. Even I can't get that wrong."

Seven smiled faintly and leaned down, kissing the captain gently. Janeway readily returned it, but she kept it tender rather than passionate. If she wanted this evening to end on a properly physical note between them, she had to slow it down a great deal and indulge her spouse a little. After Seven had retrieved her glass of wine and moved over to the sofa where she sipped it in quiet meditation, Janeway bustled about the quarters, quickly setting the table. Selecting one of the couple's favorite dishes, rather than the extravagant Orion feast she had initially planned, the captain keyed the replicator so that it would not be ready for another twenty minutes. She brought up the lights and blew out the excess candles scattered about the living area, though she left the two on the table burning. Finally, she altered the musical selection from the sensual throbbing to a more peaceful string quartet. Glancing over at her spouse, she noted that the young woman no longer appeared so edgy and restless.

Moving over to where Seven was sitting, Janeway took a position opposite her on the transparent top of the coffee table, reaching down to grasp one of the Borg's ankles. Seven lifted a brow but did not resist as the captain proceeded to remove the Borg's boots and stockings. With both of Seven's long, narrow feet resting in her lap, Janeway began to massage them, studying Seven's face as she pushed her thumbs rhythmically into the fleshy underside. She was relieved when she saw the expression of pleasure ease the tension around the Borg's eyepiece, smoothing out the tiny furrow from between brow and implant.

"I should be doing this for you more often, darling," she said softly, with a touch of regret.

"It is usually you who requires such attention," Seven noted. "Your responsibilities are much greater than mine."

"That doesn't mean you don't need pampering. I think I overlook how much I demand from you, how much you give to this ship, and to me as your captain. You work so hard, and make it look so easy, that I forget it can be as much of a drain on you as it would be on anyone. You're my most precious resource, my darling, both professionally and personally, and if I don't start taking better care of you, you'll have every right to pick me up by the scruff of the neck and throw me out on my ass."

Seven smiled. "I doubt that would ever happen, Kathryn."

"I'll just have to make sure it doesn't." A chime from the replicator indicated their meal was ready, and she carefully placed Seven's feet onto the table. "Stay here," she instructed. "I'll let you know when everything's ready."

She went over to the counter and washed her hands in the small sink before retrieving the various dishes from the replicator as they materialized, carrying them over to the table. When everything was set, Seven finally rose from her seat and padded over to the table set beneath the large viewports, her bare feet muffled by the carpet.

"We are not eating in the arboretum?" she asked as she sat down, lifting a brow as Janeway held the chair for her.

"Mmm, I love nature as much as anyone," Janeway said, somewhat inaccurately as she took her own seat, "but I wanted the stars this night." She lifted her chin in the direction of a purplish cloud that spread across the heavens beyond the station and the array. "Not to mention that nebula. It's beautiful."

Seven glanced at it after she finished filling her plate with noodles and sauce. "It is also quite intriguing," she said, her eyes bright with scientific curiosity. "Long range sensors detect unusual readings originating in the center. The Hearthstone database has very little information about it, perhaps because their space does not extend very far in that direction."

Janeway offered the Borg a warm smile. "Then I guess I know which course I'll order the ship to take when we depart Hearthstone. That nebula is all yours, my love."

Seven smiled at the captain's presumption in offering the spatial anomaly as if it were a rose or a box of candy. "A most generous gift, Kathryn."

"Only the best for my darling," Janeway said with pompous formality, actually wringing a bit of a chuckle from the normally humor-challenged Borg.

The captain kept the conversation equally as light for the rest of their meal, utilizing as much of her innate charm on Seven as she would anyone else. She had to remember not to take for granted the wonderful person she had married. It was a sad reality that sometimes it was easier to treat a stranger with more care and consideration than one would a loved one, and Janeway was determined not to fall into that trap.

Later, over coffee and dessert in the living room, they resumed the topic of the nebula. The captain understood only too well that Seven found scientific discussion more entertaining than many other avenues of conversation. Though she sat close to Seven on the sofa, she didn't try to advance things to a physical level, content merely to hold the Borg's hand. She was amply rewarded for her restraint once they went to bed. Seven pulled her close as soon as they had slipped between the sheets, her intent clear and unmistakable.

Janeway groaned at the lovely sensation of warm skin against her own, silky soft as Seven kissed her with slow, languid passion. The captain's hands moved restlessly over the Borg, and the young woman made a soft sound of blissful pleasure, quivering under the caresses while doing her best with her mouth and hands to make Janeway absolutely insane with pleasure. Eventually, the captain's nails dug into the Borg's shoulder blades with a little more intensity than was necessary, rapture radiating through her as Seven touched and fondled her. The abruptness of Janeway's climax left her heart racing, the spasms seizing her with unexpected demand.

"Mmm, that was wonderful, love," she murmured when the tremors gradual subsided. "Did I draw blood?"

Seven twitched slightly, evaluating the information transmitted from the nerves in her back. "I do not believe so, Kathryn. Perhaps your nails are clipped too short."

Janeway laughed and pulled her close, running her palms over Seven's back in an effort to sooth the inflamed skin, then down to her buttocks where she squeezed lovingly. Pressing the Borg down against the mattress, she lazily kissed and licked her way down the lovely length of Seven's torso, paying particular attention to the rosy nipples and the generous swells of her breasts before moving on to the golden juncture of her long legs.

Seven's flavor was mild, with just a touch of salt-sweetness. Janeway adored how the little nodule, so shy and elusive in the beginning, quickly swelled to attention beneath her tongue, almost as if it were offering itself to the captain like a cadet up for review. It still thrilled Janeway to know that only she had been granted the joy of exploring this intimate area of her partner. Perhaps that was why she became so jealous at times. The very thought that anyone else would dare access this tender and delicate region of Seven's body infuriated her beyond reason. This was her privilege, and no one else would ever have it so long as the captain drew breath.

The fingers of the Borg's right hand tangled in Janeway's hair, holding the captain close to her as the pleasure increased in steady waves. Beyond Seven's lovely length, Janeway could hear the soft creak of metal as Seven's implant twisted and pulled on the bar installed at the head of the bed. It was a wonderful counterpoint to the young woman's low cries and moans, an indication that she was rapidly losing control of her senses, that the pleasure Janeway was providing was almost more than she could bear. It made the captain feel powerful, and ironically, humbled at the same time by the knowledge that she could delve so easily beneath that icy Borg exterior and draw out the warm and passionate woman beneath.

"Kathryn. Oh, Kathryn."

The name was more than a cry in the night. It was an acknowledgment of the special love Seven felt, the total adoration she held for one person, and one person alone. Janeway increased her attention, drawing out the desire for as long as she could, before bestowing that final combination of lips and tongue that she knew would release the rising passion in her partner, that would cause the delicate flutters of uncontrolled physical reaction that Seven simply couldn't resist.

Afterward, Janeway kissed the soft skin of Seven's inner thigh, making her spouse groan, and then crawled up the Borg, settling onto the warm cushion of her larger body to kiss her mouth lovingly. Seven responded lazily, obviously sated from the pleasure Janeway had provided.

"I love you, Seven of Mine," the captain murmured against her lips.

"I love you, Kathryn," Seven whispered back as she hugged her tightly. "Forever."

Janeway kissed her again and then slid off to the side, snuggling against Seven as she rested her head on the blonde's shoulder. It felt so warm and safe in these arms, so very peaceful. She often wondered what she would do without it, particularly when it appeared threatened. Janeway knew she could trust Seven with her whole heart, but there remained the small uncertainty, an insidious belief that the Borg could eventually be drawn to the Elthanian if only given enough time. After all, Tazna was far more attractive than Janeway. Why settle for an old Starfleet officer like her, when someone so alluring and powerful could offer her complete and undivided attention to Seven?

Despite knowing she shouldn't think like that after all this time, and after all they had been through, the doubts lingered no matter how much she tried to deny them. Seven had done all she could to assuage the captain's irrational insecurity. It was up to Janeway to bring it under control and not allow it to touch what she shared with her beloved Borg.

"Kathryn?" The tone was sleepy, almost that of a child.

"Yes, darling?"

"Will we be departing soon?"

"As soon as the array is complete," Janeway assured her. "The minute after I beam back from the official activation, I'm setting a course out of Confederation space. There's a lot of quadrant out there to be explored, Annika, and I want to do as much of it as I can before we're required to return."

Seven was silent, but Janeway could feel the satisfaction radiating from her. The captain lifted her head slightly, turning it to kiss the line of Seven's collarbone. "Go to sleep, love," she encouraged softly. "There's only a few days left. Then it will be you and me exploring the vast unknown ... just as it should be."

Seven nuzzled her drowsily and settled back against the mattress, her body growing lank beside the captain, her breathing slowing and smoothing out. Janeway held her close, unable to sleep as she watched over her.

Kelly stumbled off the turbolift, feeling as battered and bruised as she had ever felt before. At the far end of the corridor, she noticed the ship's science officer entering the captain's quarters, but was too damned tired to wonder about it. Dragging her beloved phaser rifle by the strap, she barely managed to draw on enough energy to lift it onto a table just inside the door, before slogging over to the sofa where she collapsed full length on its cushions. For long moments, she stared up at the ceiling, every muscle in her body aching, wondering if she would ever find the strength to move again. A brief glance at the chronometer revealed that she had only been in the holodeck an hour and a half, yet it had seemed an eternity.

It was just one surprise after another being on this vessel. Even when Kelly thought she knew what was going on, as she had in joining Ro's training run, it turned out to be completely different than what she expected. She was left with the knowledge that she had no idea who these people were, particularly the captain. What Janeway had gone through with Voyager had to have impacted on her. Kelly couldn't get around the fact that an ordinary captain, an incompetent commander, just couldn't have brought a ship back intact after seven years of encountering what M'Reek had described so casually. There had to be a lot more to Janeway than met the eye.

Kelly wondered how she could find out. She had the authorization to delve into the crew's personal records, but that didn't include the captain's. Rank did have its privilege. Even if she could, would it really help? Psyche profiles and family history didn't always reveal what really went on behind the masks displayed to others. Kelly was of the strong belief that she couldn't really understand someone until she had fought at his or her side. People who presented the most competent and self assured demeanor during ordinary circumstances could, under fire, cut and run like the most craven of cowards. Meanwhile, meek and mild individuals, viewed as weak and untrustworthy, could fling themselves into the teeth of the worst possible opposition and come out the other side without a scratch, sometimes bringing the entire squad with them just from the example of their courage and leadership.

She appreciated that she was dealing only with superficial perceptions at the moment, but when would she have a chance to see the real crew? The real captain? That took time and experience. It would help if Janeway didn't remind her so much of Cartwright. It was also hard to remain objective when she was dealing with a captain that was so damned finicky over minor protocols, demanding that everything on her ship go completely by-the-book.

A chirp on her comm badge made her twitch. Weakly, she tapped her chest. "Kelly here."

"Commander, this is Dr. Lewis. Need I remind you that you have a follow-up physical in sickbay at the moment?"

Kelly groaned. She had completely forgotten about it.

"Can we reschedule, Doctor?"

Lewis hesitated. "I'd like to, Commander, but the captain has sent down specific instructions regarding yo- this case. We don't want to miss anything when it comes to Transition Jump Syndrome. There's still so much we have to learn about the condition. I'm afraid that any such rescheduling would have to be included in our report to the captain."

The warning was clear. Refuse to get her ass down to sickbay, and the next thing she knew, the captain would be chewing it out, again. Kelly felt a dull flare of anger, but she was too wrung out to generate a suitable surge of outrage at yet another example of having to follow every little regulation that came along. What difference did it make when Kelly had her damned physical?

"I'm on my way," she said finally, in a resigned tone. "Just give me a few minutes to clean up. I just returned from a workout."

With an effort, she uncoiled from the couch and made her way into the ensuite where she stripped off her uniform, balling it up and tossing it into the replicator's recycle compartment. She alternated hot and cold settings in the shower until she felt reasonably human again, and retrieved the cleaned uniform sitting on the replicator tray. As she was pulling it on, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror over the sink counter. For a second she contemplated her boyish figure, the tiny breasts and slim hips, the freckles scattered across various parts of her anatomy. Her dark hair still dripped, lank strands falling into her green eyes, and she flipped her head back to clear them away. On her left biceps, there were the dark markings of a tattoo, etched there one drunken evening on Risa where she and the surviving members of her squad had enjoyed a leave after a particularly bloody battle, trying to forget those they had left behind on an obscure asteroid designated by numbers rather than a name.

The design was of an old style space helmet, the type used by the astronauts in the early years of space travel with the word NASA on the forehead. Arching over it were the words, Grissom's Guardians, in an intricate script, while beneath was her serial number and the phrase, neutiquam erro

I am not lost, she thought. I will never be lost.

Except, lost was exactly what she had been feeling since coming on board this massive ship, where everyone seemed to know what was going on and she didn't.

Sickbay was bright and pristine, a contrast to the darkness and clutter of her quarters. She nodded briefly at the nurse who passed by, and made her way over to the sparse form of the doctor who was studying the readout on a console. He glanced up as she arrived, and offered a smile that warmed her, making her feel less isolated and vulnerable.

"Hop up on the table," he instructed.

Obediently, she did so, remaining still as he began to run a probe over her, examining the readings from it on his medical tricorder. Over his shoulder, she noticed the arrival of another nurse, who was carrying a plateful of food.

"Hey, girls, try out the latest sensation from the Nexus," she announced. Two more nurses quickly gathered round and partook of the unexpected treat. Then the nurse spotted Kelly and brought it over. "Commander? You should try these. They're supposed to be the next great thing on the ship's menu. They're called binkies." There were several small pastries on the plate, filled with what appeared to be meat and cheese of some kind. They smelled heavenly.

Kelly took one, appreciating the effort by the junior officer to include her. Then she was immediately shocked and embarrassed when the nurse took the plate away without making any effort to offer one to the doctor, almost as if he wasn't there. The doctor appeared not to notice, but Kelly was angered on his behalf.

"Ensign," she snapped, rising to her feet to glare at the young woman.

Startled, the nurse nearly dropped her plate as she turned, staring at the first officer in confusion. "Sir?"

"I don't know where you learned protocol, but common courtesy should always be observed. I will not see any rudeness to superior officers on my watch."

The nurse blinked, obviously still confused. "Sir?"

Dr. Lewis was staring at her. "What's the problem, Commander?"

Kelly looked at him. "You don't find it rude that she didn't offer you a pastry?"

The nurse looked back and forth between them. "I'm sorry, sir, would you care for a binkie?" She looked painfully uncertain about what was going on.

Dr. Lewis took pity on her. "Not at all, but thank you for offering." He watched her leave and then put his tricorder down on the tray. Picking up another device, he began to scan Kelly. "I appreciate the intervention, Commander," he said conversationally, "but I assure, it was completely unnecessary. It wasn't a snub. The nurses are fully aware that I don't eat."

"What do you mean, you don't eat?"

He paused, and then looked at her in surprise. After a moment of keen study, a brief smile crossed his face. "Thank you for the compliment."

Now it was Kelly's turn to be confused. "Compliment?"

"You mistook me for a Human," he explained in a low voice.

"You mean, you're not?" Kelly peered at him intently. If he wasn't Human, he was so damned close, she couldn't tell what the difference would be.

"I'm a hologram."

Kelly leaned against the bed, suddenly feeling weak. "Excuse me?"

"I'm a hologram, an Emergency Medical Hologram to be precise." He made a few adjustments in his computer. "After Voyager's doctor was killed immediately after their arrival in the Delta Quadrant, I was brought online and, as a result of many adventures and experiences, eventually achieved sentience. Captain Janeway accorded me all the rights and privileges of a full crewmember, and upon my return to Earth, a lawyer helped me acquire full Federation citizenship. Recently, I was even reinstated into Starfleet as a senior lieutenant."

He seemed remarkably proud as he recited his history. She glanced around, recognizing the holo-emitters that every starship's sickbay was equipped with, but that didn't explain why she had seen him in the corridors. The energy drain of having that many emitters scattered through the ship would be tremendous, and again, she was struck by the sense that Millennium was far too luxurious for its own good.

A hologram. Good God. Not only had she allowed it to perform medical procedures on her, she had been in the process of becoming fond of the damned thing. This wasn't a starship. It was a damned circus.

"I would have appreciated being informed," she said tightly.

"You just were." The chill tones of the Chief Medical Officer sounded behind her, startling the first officer. Kelly turned around to meet the pale eyes of Dr. Kate Pulaski. Though the doctor wore the three pips of a commander, Kelly knew it was only a provisional demotion during her tour of starship duty. Pulaski was actually an admiral, and carried herself as such, with an authority and steel will that intimidated practically everyone with whom she came in contact. That included the first officer.

"Dr. Lewis is a member of my staff. If you have a problem with him, then you bring it to me, is that understood, Commander?"

Kelly opened her mouth to speak, paused, reconsidered, and dipped her head. "Aye, si- Doctor."

Lewis was staring at Pulaski in complete astonishment. "Would someone please tell me what's going on?"

"Kelly thought you were real," Pulaski said, her tone faintly mocking, though exactly whom she was mocking, the first officer wasn't sure. "When she found out you weren't, she freaked out because she let a dirty hologram touch her."

Lewis blinked. Kelly felt humiliated.

"That's not it at all." She wasn't sure whether she was more embarrassed that she'd been caught, or that she had felt exactly as the CMO had said. "I was just ... surprised."

Pulaski chuckled. It wasn't a particularly nice chuckle. "Spare me, Commander. I easily recognize the symptoms, but Lewis has proved himself to me countless times over, as he has to the captain. I suggest you stop making assumptions based only on what you see and hear, and start using your head for a change."

She turned on her heel, a snowy haired, statuesque woman who did not look back as she went into her office. Kelly was left feeling approximately two centimeters tall. It was not a pleasant feeling.

"My apologies, Doctor," she managed stiffly after a few seconds. "I meant no disrespect."

"None taken," he said breezily, though for some reason, Kelly had the sense that his feelings had been hurt. It made her feel even worse. "After all, most people consider holograms to be nothing more than mere projections of light photons, and to be frank, they are. Only a very few of us manage to transcend our programming and become something more." He ran a few more tests and then shut down the scanners. "You seem fine. I don't see any lingering effects from your unfortunate bout with TJS, and aside from a few bruises and scrapes, you're quite healthy." He paused. "I don't suppose you'd care to explain those bumps and bruises." He didn't look at her, and she wondered what he was thinking.

"I did a run through the holodeck with Commander Ro's security squad."

"Ah, say no more," he said, holding up his hand. "You're fortunate to escape with only a few scrapes. I understand her training runs are legendary on the lower decks for weeding out anyone incapable of being very quick or very lucky. Heaven knows, we've had to patch up more than a few of the new officers after their introduction to Ro's training programs."

"Uh, thank you." Despite herself, Kelly started to feel better about things, and realized that whatever her opinion on holograms in general, there was no reason to apply that to the individual treating her. He had been nice since the moment she stepped foot on the ship, and she couldn't afford to alienate what few allies she had. She reached out and put her hand on his arm. It felt cool but fairly normal beneath her palm. "I am sorry, Doctor. I'm not used to a lot of ... well, things that the people on this ship seem to take for granted."

He paused, and then nodded, his expression softening. "Just hang in there. You'll fit in. I eventually did, and if I can, anyone can." He smiled at her, and she returned it without hesitation.

As she left sickbay, her mind was crowded with new concepts and ideas. Whatever else happened to her on this vessel, she was learning that Starfleet was a whole lot different than anything she had thought it was on the bridge of the Grissom.

Seven touched her board and glanced up at the large viewscreen at the front of the bridge. Beside her, the first officer's station was unmanned while Kelly held the conn, the young woman perched uncertainly in the captain's chair. M'Reek was at tactical while T'Shanik worked quietly at ops. Nog covered the helm, though all the ship was currently doing was maintaining station keeping off Hearthstone. Beyond the space station, the grand spread of the Federation communications array drifted against the stars. In a few moments, the feed would come online, showing the control room where Janeway and Ro, along with Tazna Jade, Heedran Perth, the three Elthanian Speakers, and the Soularri Council Ministers, had gathered to greet the first message transmitted from the Federation. More officials had clamored to be in attendance, but there was a very limited amount of space in the control center, and only those considered to be absolutely necessary for the occasion could be present for the history-making event. At any moment, a signal would be coming through, linking the two civilizations together in a long distance relationship that could provide a deep, lasting friendship.

Seven would prefer be in her lab rather than wasting time on the bridge, but the captain had been very specific about her orders. With both Janeway and Ro on the array, and B'Elanna in the engine room, she wanted Seven, as fifth in command, to keep an eye on Commander Kelly. Seven doubted the captain had put it that way to anyone else, but she knew she had to remain on the bridge or Janeway would be unbearably snippy when she returned, no matter what kind of explanations her wife offered. Seven used the time to review the latest long-range sensor logs involving the nebula that lay beyond Confederation space.

"Commander, sensors are detecting a communication signal." T'Shanik's low voice held no excitement, as befitting a Vulcan, but Seven wondered if she still felt it. Many people thought Vulcans were without emotion, when in truth, they merely suppressed it.

"On screen." Kelly's voice was a little strained, and Seven shot a glance over her shoulder. She couldn't tell if the first officer was nervous or merely impatient to get things underway.

At the front of the bridge, the viewscreen flickered to show the interior of the array. Seven could see the officials jammed together in the tiny confines of the control center, and she was mildly amused when she saw Janeway was forced to stand so close to Tazna Jade, they were practically joined at the hip. There was an expression on the captain's face that Seven recognized, and despite Janeway's extraordinary self control, the Borg wouldn't be the least bit surprised if the captain surreptitiously nudged the StarScout with a sharp elbow in order to claim a little more breathing space. Beside Janeway, Ro stood easily at attention, her dark eyes missing little as they scanned the room.

A Starfleet lieutenant was the only one able to sit, his lanky form cushioned by the leather chair, surrounded by various screens. His hands moved over the controls in front of him, and suddenly, the various readouts flickered to reveal the official insignia of the United Federation of Planets.

Seven lifted her head as it gave way to an image of Federation officials 80,000 light-years away, recognizing the grizzled head of the Federation Council director, the dark skinned female president of Earth, and the current ranking officer of Starfleet's diplomatic corps, Admiral Sitak. Seven took a quick glance over at T'Shanik, aware that the elegant Vulcan on the screen was actually the older sister of Millennium's operations officer. The ops officer didn't flicker, apparently unaffected by the sight of her elder sibling.

"Greetings to the Confederacy," the president said. "On behalf of the Federation and Starfleet, we extend the hand of friendship and peace."

Feurton Raith, the elderly Speaker representing the Confederation's governing council, raised her hand, using her other to lean on her silver cane. Her feathery antennae were stiffly alert, angled in the direction of the main viewscreen of the array.

"Welcome, Federation," she said, her voice clear and clean, like water rippling over rocks, indicating no infirmities as a result of age. "Five years ago, we welcomed your lost vessel into our home, offering them a temporary safe haven, before they returned to the onerous journey that would eventually take them home. We could not have envisioned that such a brief meeting would lead to an alliance that would span tens of thousands of light-years and two quadrants. We accept your gracious offer of friendship and peace, and return it with the promise to stand at your side whatever lies ahead for both our peoples."

That was a grand promise, Seven thought sardonically, and somewhat impractical. Only Starfleet had the capability to travel to the Confederacy to lend assistance in the event of an emergency, and that was limited to only four ships, two of which were still under construction. On the other hand, depending on how the alliance progressed and future negotiations took place, it was possible that one day, StarScout vessels would also boast a faster-than-warp drive. No matter what the politicians might want, when scientists got together, knowledge tended to flow freely in both directions.

Seven tried to remain patient through several more long and tedious speeches, discovering the Confederation was as bad as the Federation in that regard, and wondering at the energy expense of keeping the channel open for such irrelevant commentary. Finally, the proceedings were brought to a close, and the ConFed Array, as it was known, was officially declared to be in operation. With what seemed to be relief in her voice, Kelly ordered that the transmission be terminated, and the soothing view of the stars reappeared on the fore viewscreen.

Seven wondered how long it would take before Janeway would be able to return to the ship. Certainly, there were probably more diplomatic exchanges to be made, including the official welcome of Minister Jiidan as the Confederation's observer on the ship, but fortunately, Seven was not required to be present for any of them.

It took approximately two more hours before Janeway and Ro finally appeared on the bridge, obviously having the opportunity at some point to change from their dress whites to regular uniforms. The captain slipped into the command chair Kelly had vacated and looked comfortable for the first time that day.

"All hands, prepare for departure," she instructed, the computer picking up on the key words 'all hands' and transmitting it ship-wide. Released from bridge duty, Seven glanced once in Janeway's direction, a brief but warm exchange of acknowledgment before she entered the turbolift.

In the main lab, which held astrometrics and her office, Seven immediately set to work, making sure everything was secured for warp speed. The transition jump could carry them great distances in a blink of an eye, but when it came to exploration, they had to rely on the more traditional methods of propulsion. Lenara Kahn, a joined Trill and Seven's liaison to her civilian crew, entered the Borg's office to give her report. Tall, with golden brown hair and eyes that held the experience of three hundred years, Lenara had become a close friend over the past two years, initially through a long distance scientific communication, and then by serving with Seven on Millennium.

Leaning back casually in the chair across from Seven, Lenara lifted a padd. "Are you sure that we're going to get a crack at the nebula?"

Seven dipped her head. "The captain promised we would set course in that direction. Of course, many other items of interest may lie in that direction, diverting us from that course. It has been my experience that the unexpected is normal operating procedure for Millennium."

Lenara laughed, low and melodious. The brownish spots that lightly decorated her temples and ran down her neck to disappear beneath the collar of her lab coat, were rumored to continue their path down the entire length of her body. Seven had no way of verifying that, but on occasion, only because she was now more Human than Borg, she contemplated their existence as a form of idle reflection, in much the same manner that she occasionally glanced at B'Elanna's body beneath her uniform. Of course, thanks to a strange encounter with an alien species with a decided flair for practical jokes, Seven had cause to be intimately familiar with the Klingon's body, and there was less room for conjecture on her part. Ultimately, however, there was only one woman that truly intoxicated her and left her heart beating irregularly when she contemplated what joys lay with her beloved body.

She wondered what the captain was doing at that exact moment.

"So what's the latest on our new first officer?"

Seven lifted a brow. "I am unsure gossip is a useful pastime." She was always somewhat startled at this side of the Trill's personality. It was very similar to B'Elanna's, though usually presented in a more elegant and refined manner than the Klingon tended to display.

"But you're so good at it, Seven."

The Borg doubted that, but she allowed a small smile to curve her lips. "I do not know any more than has already been discussed."

"So you didn't hear about her run in with Pulaski?"

Seven blinked. Such information was usually valuable, not only to the Borg but to Janeway with whom she inevitably shared what she learned. Most people on the lower decks were unaware of that, believing the captain usually knew what was going on simply because she was omnipotent and that was how starship captains were.

"I do not. Continue."

"Are you sure? I don't want to engage in idle chatter."

Seven pinned her with a look. "Proceed."

Lenara rested her chin on her hand, her eyes sparkling. "Rumor has it that Kelly got all bent out of shape because she thought Lewis was insulted by one of the nurses."

"Indeed."

"Only Kelly thought it was because he was human. She didn't have a clue he was an EMH, and when she discovered he was, it was a bit tense. Apparently, she has a little bit of a holographic bias going on."

"Many do," Seven said, unperturbed. "Few are able to appreciate the Doctor's technical uniqueness. He will win her over as he has so many others."

"Like Pulaski?"

Seven blinked. "Elaborate."

"When Kelly was finished displaying her backwater prejudices, Pulaski took four or five strips off her. From what I understand, that's completely unlike the CMO. Of course, it's possible she's one of those people who doesn't mind kicking Lewis around, but doesn't want anyone else to have the pleasure."

"I assure you, Dr. Lewis holds his own with Dr. Pulaski," Seven told her. "Their antagonistic relationship is one of mutual respect, though neither would admit it." She paused. "It is a most intriguing interaction."

Lenara regarded her thoughtfully. "Ah, one of those love/hate things that inevitably leads to passion."

Seven was taken aback, not having considered that. The mental picture that suddenly invaded her mind, involving the two doctors engaging in romantic by-play on a biobed, made Seven regret the fact that her progress back to Humanity, and Janeway's constant encouragement, had enabled her to access a growing and occasionally vivid imagination.

"I do not know," she said weakly.

Lenara tilted her head thoughtfully. "Hmm, Pulaski and Lewis. It would be a hell of a volatile pairing. If they fight now as co-workers, I can only imagine what sickbay would be like if they actually began a romantic relationship."

"I do not want to imagine it." Seven was painfully aware of the intensity and fire of her rare disagreements with the captain, and for the most part, the two women were completely compatible, usually co-existing in domestic bliss. For Lewis and Pulaski, for whom chaos was their preferred state of existence, the repercussions to the ship as a whole could be devastating.

Lenara, who was studying the Borg, suddenly smiled. Around them, they felt the tiniest of surges, the sensation of warp engines coming online. The ever-present hum in the background altered slightly, becoming deeper and more pervasive.

"We are breaking orbit." Seven leaned forward to access her computer panel, indicating their brief interlude was over. "Please assign someone to check over the Federation data records. I would like to know if any other Starfleet vessel has encountered a similar sort of anomaly."

Lenara did not flicker at the abrupt change of attitude from the Borg. She was used to it. As she rose from her seat and headed for the door of Seven's office, she paused briefly, glancing over her shoulder. "Seven, what do you think about our VIP?"

Seven did not look up. "I do not think anything of Jiidan. I lack the necessary data to form an opinion."

Lenara disappeared, undoubtedly disappointed at the lack of intriguing information in the Borg's response, but Seven was more concerned about what she didn't know than the Trill could ever be.

Particularly after Tazna Jade's cryptic warning.

"What do you expect to learn on this journey?" Jiidan asked curiously.

"We don't know," the captain explained as they turned the corner. "That's the point."

Jiidan nodded briefly as if understanding her words on a level that escaped Janeway. "What of the species your ship will encounter?"

"Hopefully, we'll make friends. If not, then I assure you that we're quite capable of defending ourselves, Minister. You're perfectly safe while on board Millennium." The captain paused. "I'm curious why you volunteered to accompany us." Janeway assumed it was a voluntary assignment. For some reason, she didn't think Jiidan was the sort of individual who took orders very well, though she wasn't sure why she thought that.

Jiidan offered a brief smile. "For much the same reason, Captain. You are, for all your apparent similarities, quite different from us. Observing how you face the many unexpected encounters that will undoubtedly occur during your exploration will reveal much about your civilization."

"And perhaps in the process, you'll learn something about yourself?"

Jiidan seemed to appreciate that. "Exactly, Captain. In learning about others, we inevitably encounter certain truths about our own place in the universe."

Janeway glanced down at the diminutive form of the Confederation ambassador. Despite knowing he was alien and an honored representative of his species, she found the golden-haired ursinoid to be irresistibly cute and cuddly, like a puppy or a bear cub. It took a certain amount of restraint not to sweep him up and give him a hug. Nor was she the only one who apparently felt that way. Many of the officers they passed, as she gave the Soularri Minister a tour of her ship, regarded the alien with softened eyes and ready smiles. On two occasions, Janeway was forced to intercede when children, upon spotting the Soularri, slipped from the grasp of their parents and made a beeline for him with bright expressions and open arms. Fortunately, Jiidan did not seem to mind, submitting to the childish embraces with evident enjoyment, returning them in kind.

The next visit on the tour was main engineering, where dual power cores, reaching as high as four decks, throbbed with steady power, the deck and bulkheads as pristine as if this were the ship's medical center or mess hall. While B'Elanna took over the tour, the captain was left alone with her thoughts, free to study the Soularri as she tagged along after them, trying to figure out why Seven was so insistent on finding out more about their relationship to the Elthanians. On the surface, the Elthanians appeared to be the dominant species, holding most positions of power. Were the Soularri considered expendable servants of some kind, dispatched to observe and report back to the Confederation?

She hovered patiently as B'Elanna and Jiidan engaged in a highly technical and intricate discussion about Millennium's warp engines. He was subtly discouraged from examining the transition drive at length, since Janeway wasn't sure how much technology the Federation was prepared to share with the Confederation, and until she knew, it would be best to keep things as general as possible. The StarScout vessels were powered by a similar design of warp propulsion as that of the Federation, but the special combination of slipstream, transwarp and subspace conduits were nothing like they had ever seen ... or so they had claimed.

After the engine room, Janeway guided Jiidan into the gamma hangar to show him part of the auxiliary fleet. There were no more fighters on display, for which she was thankful, but he appeared properly impressed with the heavy runabouts and their extended science modules. He also liked the delta flyers, which possessed a unique design that granted them a certain character that the normal class four shuttles lacked. He seemed delighted by the old fashioned controls, the switches and brightly colored dials, fingering them with a certain wistfulness. Janeway made a mental note to have Tom take the fuzzy little Soularri out for a spin in the Delta Wing. If anyone could provide the ambassador with a harmless thrill or two, it would be Ensign Paris.

The tour complete, she returned with Jiidan to deck three. He would be staying in the VIP quarters during his time on Millennium, and as she escorted him inside the spacious rooms, she was greeted by an amazing combination of fragrances from the multitude of plants decorating every available surface. As she looked around in wonder at all the greenery, she wondered if it wouldn't have been more expedient simply to set the Soularri up in the arboretum attached to the captain's quarters. The air was thick and moist, more humid than was normally found on the ship, and the gravity had been adjusted to a third more Earth normal. All the furnishings had been replaced by smaller replications, undoubtedly drawn from the section of Ship's Stores that catered to the crew's families, creating surroundings that were the perfect size for the Soularri, but seemed very small to the Human, making Janeway feel large and clumsy. Through the open door to the bedroom, she could see that the bed had been replaced by a sort of low-sided box, filled with brightly colored pillows and blankets that would provide a warm nest for Jiidan.

Janeway had given the job of arranging the quarters for their guest to her first officer. Kelly had done a fine job, and the captain made a note to compliment the young woman. For the first time, she thought that perhaps new exec wasn't a complete loss as a Starfleet officer, after all.

"May I offer you some refreshment, Captain?"

"Please," Janeway said.

She eyed the tiny sofa for a moment, decided not to chance it, and sank to the floor in a cross-legged position next to the low coffee table. She noticed that the replicator control panel had been lowered in the bulkhead so that Jiidan could access it without stretching. She was curious what he would offer, particularly considering that he seemed quite familiar with the device, which made sense since the Confederacy had similar units in their society.

He brought over two child-sized glasses filled with a reddish liquid, and she swallowed back a smile, put in mind of the tea parties she and Seven had once shared with Naomi. Of course, Naomi had outgrown such behavior some time ago. Janeway was aware that her partner was hurt by that development and by the distance that now existed between her and the young Wildman. Seven was the type who did not make friends easily, and when she did, she bonded with them on a profound level. She couldn't yet understand that sometimes, people drifted apart, and Naomi simply wasn't the same person who had been so eager to be the captain's assistant. She was far more interested in friends her own age, and possibly even boys at this point.

Janeway sipped her drink cautiously, recognizing it as a juice that had been provided at the negotiations, not too sweet, but not overly tart either. The captain liked it. She watched quietly as Jiidan took a seat in the small armchair, putting him at eye level with her.

"Larger furnishing could have been retained, Captain," he said, somewhat apologetically. "It would not have bothered me."

Janeway shook her head. "We want you to feel at home on Millennium, Minister. Anyone who visits these quarters must adapt to your environment. Certainly, you'll be constantly forced to adapt to ours in the rest of the ship during our upcoming mission. The absolute least we can do is make sure you return to comfortable surroundings at the end of the day."

"It may be considered the least, but not everyone is so accommodating, Captain," Jiidan said quietly.

Janeway was struck by the thought that during the negotiations, everything had been adapted to fit the Federation and the Elthanians. She couldn't remember seeing any amenities provided for the Soularri, and wondered if that included the quarters on Hearthstone where the tiny aliens had been housed.

"I must say, I didn't initially comprehend why your security officer, Lt. M'Reek, asked so many questions about the environmental conditions on my homeworld during the recent celebration. Now I realize you were making preparations for my living space. I am most gratified."

Janeway lifted a brow. So security had assisted Kelly in setting up the VIP quarters. The captain supposed she couldn't complain since she had essentially asked Ro to befriend the first officer. Still, it meant that all the positive thoughts she had been generating for the young woman weren't necessarily warranted, other than the fact that Kelly at least knew when to take advice from Ro when offered.

"If there's anything else that can be done to enhance your comfort, please don't hesitate to ask," Janeway told him. "My crew and I will do our best to provide it."

"Thank you, Captain. You are most kind."

Janeway drained the last of her juice. "In the meantime, I'm afraid that I must be going," she said, waiting until Jiidan had risen before she uncoiled from the floor, hiding the wince at muscles long unused. She needed to hit the gym a few more times to enhance her flexibility if she was planning to drop by Jiidan's quarters in the future. "My wife is undoubtedly waiting dinner on me."

He tilted his head. "Lt. Hansen is your mate, correct?"

"In a manner of speaking," Janeway said as he walked with her to the door. "We're married, a union that is both legally and emotionally binding in our culture."

"Intriguing. We share something similar." He paused, and she wondered if he was going to say something about the behavior of the science officer during the negotiations. Certainly, Seven hadn't acted like a married woman during that period of observation. Instead, he merely tilted his head and offered a Soularri gesture of farewell. "Cool shade to you, Captain."

"And to you, Minister," she said, mimicking the hand motion

She stepped out into the corridor. Across the hall, the door leading to Kelly's quarters was closed, though a green light burning in the corner indicated the first officer was inside. Janeway debated briefly about requesting admittance and complimenting the first officer on her arrangements for Jiidan, but decided not to. Not only was it late, Janeway was tired, the weariness descending upon her in a rush now that she was no longer required to maintain her diplomatic mien for the Soularri minister. Encountering Kelly while not completely in control could make things worse between them, especially if the first officer responded to the captain with the same irritating demeanor with which she had conducted herself since coming on board Millennium.

Janeway would just have to compliment the young woman another time.

She turned and strode down the corridor to the door located at the end. Inside her quarters, it was quiet, and she realized that Seven was undoubtedly already in bed. There was a plate on the kitchenette counter, maintaining its freshness and heat beneath a stasis wrap. Janeway smiled briefly and perched on the stool, eating her meal quickly and recognizing, only after she began, how hungry she was. Once she cleaned away her empty dishes, she tiptoed past the slumbering form in the bedroom and moved into the ensuite where she tossed her uniform in the recycling unit, a new one already folded and waiting on the sink counter. She hurried though her ablutions, eager to finish what had been a very long day.

Seven's body was warm and inviting as she slipped between the sheets, and Janeway didn't hesitate in wrapping herself around the lanky form. Seven stirred briefly, shifting over to her side of the bed so that her partner would have plenty of room, and dropped off to sleep once more. Janeway discovered she couldn't do the same, her mind filled with too many thoughts and concerns about the upcoming voyage, leaving her restless and unable to relax.

Somewhat reluctantly, she stoked the lean flank next to her, fingertips moving gently over the smooth skin lightly before grasping Seven's hip, urging her over onto her back. A soft groan issued from her lips, but Seven didn't hesitate in rolling the rest of the way over in order to pull the captain into her arms. Janeway buried her face gratefully into the Borg's warm neck, knowing that her partner would take care of her. Seven was always so attuned to her needs and desires, no matter what the time or place. Janeway doubted she could say the same, and she knew a moment of shame for that understanding.

"I didn't mean to wake you, darling," she lied, knowing she was taking the willing response somewhat for granted.

Seven made a small sound of amusement as she caressed the captain's breasts with delicate skill. "Yes, you did."

"Yes, I did, but you don't have to like it," Janeway told her softly as her body reacted strongly to the wonderful hands. "You could always kick me out of bed."

"I would rather you remain." Seven injected a note of command into her low voice. "Spread your legs, Kathryn."

The words sent a chill through Janeway, and she moaned as she lifted her knee up onto Seven's hip, opening herself to the long fingers that gently stroked and probed the sensitive flesh. Closing her eyes, Janeway whimpered softly as the Borg fondled her, the tender fingertips moving easily in the wet heat, spurring the captain's pleasure until it raged within her. With delicious demand, the tension rose until, finally, it peaked. Her climax was remarkably sharp, shuddering through the captain with a delightful fierceness and leaving her limp from the intensity of it. Panting, she hugged the young woman, amazed, as always, at how quickly and easily she could reach a satisfactory climax under Seven's loving touch.

"Thank you, darling," she murmured.

Seven kissed her. "You are welcome, my Kathryn."

"Darling?"

"I do not require anything." The voice was drowsy, the young woman obviously ready to resume her interrupted slumber as she settled back against the pillows.

Janeway snuggled close and drew her nails lightly over the young woman's back, scratching gently in all the places she knew Seven liked. Before long, the Borg was lulled back to sleep by the favored caress, and the captain, pleasantly sated in the wake of her physical release, soon followed.

Epilogue

B'Elanna rested her chin on the upper chest of her Bajoran companion and smiled. Ro blew a strand of sweaty hair from her forehead and lifted a brow in the wake of an energetic and passionate encounter with her spouse. She had been working hard the past few days, but now that Millennium was underway, she and the chief engineer were enthusiastically catching up on all the together time they had missed since arriving at Hearthstone.

"What?" Ro eyed the Klingon narrowly.

"Just curious."

"About?"

"Did you find out anything about why the Elthanians are so creepy?"

Ro laughed. "Frankly, I think you and Kes are imagining things. I never detected anything out of the ordinary when I was interacting with them. They're all charming, friendly and, frankly, more than a little good-looking."

"They never made your skin crawl?"

"Never."

"Oh." B'Elanna contemplated that. "Maybe we were imagining things."

"Possibly. Or maybe I just didn't meet the right Elthanians." Ro exhaled slowly. "But I'd bet my last strip of latinum that there is something going on with the Soularri."

B'Elanna lifted her head, staring at her in surprise. "Jiidan? You have to be kidding. He's absolutely adorable. Funny, too, and smart as a whip. He and I had a fascinating discussion on warp theory when he dropped by the engine room during his ship's tour with the captain."

"Hmm." Ro lifted a brow. "He also shared an interesting astrophysics discussion with Seven during the negotiations, one that left me in the dust. Meanwhile, when he and I had a moment to talk, he seemed quite familiar with the security arrangements on this ship. He even offered a suggestion or two. Quite a well rounded observer, this Jiidan."

B'Elanna narrowed her eyes, frowning slightly. "What do you mean?"

Ro shook her head. "I don't know," she said.

Her eyes narrowed as she stared into the darkness.

"But I'm going to find out."

The End

•  This is the 13th installment in the Millennium series.

•  Dedicated to Susan.

•  It was posted to the net on April 25, 2003.

•  There is a wand warning in effect for this story.

Superficial Suppositions
G. L. Dartt

Millennium slipped through unfamiliar space like a shark cruising for prey. Despite its sleek appearance and deadly armament, however, the Federation vessel was an explorer, seeking out all four quadrants of the galaxy with peaceful scientific intent. Now that it had finally left the last of Confederation space, it was truly on its own, eager for the opportunity to boldly go where no one in the Federation had gone before ... just as its captain and most of the crew liked it.

One person who didn't like it, who, in fact, felt downright uncomfortable with it at times, was sitting in the captain's chair, monitoring the beta shift. Kiara Kelly stared glumly at the viewscreen at the front of the spacious bridge, oblivious to the long streaks of stars shooting past, distorted by the ship's warp bubble. For the first five years after graduating the Academy, she had spent her career on Sabre and Norway-class ships, fighting on the Federation's front lines against the Dominion who had plunged the Alpha Quadrant into a war. She had gone on to command the USS Grissom during the past two years of relative peace, patrolling the Breen border. Yet, despite the fact that she and her crewmates on those small vessels occasionally felt hung out to dry ... occasionally felt that Starfleet wasn't going to be there in time, and frequently wasn't ... they were still close to the Federation, still within reach of safe harbor. The rest of Starfleet eventually did show up, to pick up the pieces if nothing else. Out here in the farthest reaches of the Beta Quadrant, that simply wasn't possible. Millennium was far beyond any support, any backup, any sense of being part of the larger, protective entity.

Briefly, Kelly wondered if this was how the crew of Voyager felt all those years in the Delta Quadrant, especially when they didn't have any expectation of returning home until it actually happened. It wasn't something she had ever thought about before a recent run through the holodeck during a security training mission, but now she faced some uncomfortable truths, not only about herself, but about the Intrepid-class starship that had been commanded by Millennium's present captain, Kathryn Janeway. Kelly was feeling as lost and uncertain as those on Voyager must have felt at times.

The first officer shook herself slightly, dragging herself out of her sense of ennui. This wasn't Voyager, it was Millennium, a much larger Frontier-class ship with scientists and civilians and even a large contingent of little kids running about the lower decks. Kelly had been rather horrified upon arriving on the bridge earlier in the afternoon to discover the captain and Counselor Kes, along with Minister Jiidan, giving a tour to individually chosen members of the third grade class from the school on deck thirteen. Apparently, the children's projects had come first in some kind of scientific fair, and a visit to the bridge was part of their reward. Kelly had never seen anything like it and hoped to never encounter it again. It was as far away from what she knew and understood as a Starfleet officer as possible, and not for the first time, she wondered why she had been assigned to Millennium. Had her performance as captain of the Grissom been so bad that she was being punished?

"Commander?"

Kelly started a little and glanced over at tactical, located forward and slightly to her left. The design of the bridge hearkened back to the old style favored by the early explorers of the Federation, where the captain's chair was kept separate and distinct from the other stations. Kelly missed the cozy confines of the command center on her Sabre-class vessel, where everyone was well within arm's reach, and each officer's board was easily visible to whoever was holding the conn. This felt gigantic in comparison, leaving Kelly feeling exposed, with a sense of vulnerability, of being too small to fulfill the role she was expected to carry.

"Yes, Lieutenant?"

A formidable force with bladed weapons of all kinds, M'reek, the assistant security chief, was tall and impossibly slender, with reddish-brown hair and dark eyes. Kelly had witnessed him in action on the ship's holodeck where he had slashed apart his holographic opponents in less time than it took to tell about it. At the moment, he was frowning as he glanced over his shoulder at her.

"I'm detecting an energy signature," he said. "Bearing three-two-five mark four. From the outer region of the nebula."

"Identify." Kelly's hands closed on the arms of her chair, adrenaline suddenly pumping through her system. The purplish cloud spreading across the space in front of them was the ship's intended destination. The scientists on deck eight were literally salivating at the chance to examine the anomaly from inside its gaseous expanse, and even the ship's science officer, Lt. Hansen, a cool blonde with an icy demeanor, displayed more than her share of anticipation for the upcoming mission.

"There's no match in our database," Ensign Okala said from her station at Ops. A Bajoran who had joined Starfleet later in life, she was steady and reliable, if not particularly insightful.

Kelly inhaled slowly, feeling her heart throb almost painfully against her chest. This wasn't the Breen border, she reminded herself. They were on a mission of exploration. This initial contact wasn't necessarily an attack, nor did there appear to be much of a threat. The approaching vessel was much smaller than Millennium, and undoubtedly boasted less technology than the Federation's Fast Explorer.

"Hail them," she ordered.

There was a pause as they waited.

"No response," Okala said finally.

Kelly noticed the helmsman, Tom Paris, cast a glance at her over his shoulder, as if waiting for instructions, either to slow the ship or to begin maneuvers. His expression appeared slightly doubtful to her, as if he was unsure she knew what to do. Anger flared and she firmed her jaw.

"Try again."

"No response."

"Commander," M'Reek said calmly. "They're raising shields."

Kelly, with instincts honed from years of sneak attacks, ambushes and deadly skirmishes with enemy Jem'Hadar, Cardassian and Breen vessels, didn't hesitate. She rose from her chair in a rush, her shoulders squared and her jaw firm. Time seemed to dilate around her, as if it had slowed down to a crawl, granting her all the time and space in the world in which to conduct her decision-making. It was a sensation that was quite familiar to the veteran of the Dominion War. It had come to her on many occasions in the past during battle, allowing her to coolly assess the situation and make the right decision in order to protect her ship and crew, while leaving the enemy in shattered pieces.

"Red alert," she snapped.

The illumination around them suddenly darkened, the splash of crimson washing over the bridge as an alarm began to sound. The computer took note and immediately began to issue instructions in its cool, modulated feminine voice.

"Red alert. All hands to battle stations. Senior officers to the bridge."

Kelly felt that familiar rush of confidence surge through her veins, almost exhilarated as she felt truly in her element on this ship for the first time since coming on board Millennium.

"Raise shields," she snapped. "Load torpedo bays. Ready phaser banks."

"Uh, Commander," Paris muttered at the front of the bridge.

She focused her attention on the helm. "Maintain course, Mr. Paris," she snarled at him.

Honestly, she didn't need any hint of nerves from any of her bridge staff. Didn't these officers know anything? It was especially surprising with Paris. Kelly would have thought that the helm officer, older and more experienced than the rest of the crew around him, would be comfortable in this type of tense situation. On the other hand, as old as he was, he was still a junior lieutenant. That indicated he wasn't exactly the brightest person rising through the ranks of Starfleet. Fortunately, the alpha shift was beginning to arrive, spilling out of the turbolifts bracketing each side of the bridge and heading briskly for their assigned stations.

Ro Laren, the ship's chief of security, was the first to appear in Kelly's line of vision. The Bajoran's deadly grace, as she swept across the bridge toward tactical to relieve M'Reek, reassured Kelly. The first officer instinctively trusted Ro, seeing in her the same strength of will and competent assurance that her previous crew on the USS Grissom had displayed. Warriors, each and every one of them, and Kelly missed them dearly, wishing they were the ones surrounding her now, rather than this eclectic group of alien faces possessing uncertain abilities.

At the helm, Paris glanced up at the alpha shift officer as if uncertain what the Ferengi was doing beside him. There was a slight hesitation, almost a reluctance to give up his post, but Paris finally stood up and made way for Nog. Kelly made a mental note to bring it to the captain's attention when this was all over. A red alert was no time or place to dither over the exchange of duties.

Not that Kelly was any more comfortable with Lt. Nog at the helm. She knew Millennium required an alien pilot to take them through the transition jump, but she wondered why the captain had chosen a Ferengi out of all the available personnel. The big-eared, mercenary species was well-known for its sly, conniving ways, as well as boasting a proud reputation for being the best financial operators in the Alpha Quadrant. Anyone entering into a transaction with a Ferengi would do well to count her remaining credits, as well as her arms and legs afterward to find out what had been missed in the fine print. Kelly had come out on the losing end of more than a few deals with them, and she didn't trust the helmsman any further than she could throw him. She was aware that he presumably knew how to maneuver a ship or he wouldn't be posted to the alpha shift, but the Ferengi were notorious cowards in a fight. She'd have to keep an eye on him to make sure he didn't cut and run when the phaser fire started flying.

At ops, the cool, slender form of the Vulcan, T'Shanik, took over the board from Okala. Kelly didn't know the young lieutenant at all, and had yet to speak with her outside the bridge, but Vulcans were known for their cool, logical assessment of data, even under fire. She doubted she would have any problems from that direction.

She took a breath. The transition of personnel had only taken a moment or two but her distorted time sense made it seem as if it had taken several minutes. The beta shift crew had taken their position in the staff room set off to the left of the bridge, ready to replace any fallen crew as needed, but out of the way for the time being.

A glance at the viewscreen revealed that the alien vessel was still approaching the Federation ship, but wasn't much closer than the last time she looked.

"Any response to our hails?"

"No, Commander."

Ro glanced back. "Our scans reveal that their technology is inferior to ours," the Bajoran noted coolly. "Their weapons are no match for our shields. Our phasers will cut through their hull with no problem."

"Excellent." Kelly's gaze grew steely. "Warn them off. Inform them that if they continue on this intercept course, we'll be forced to respond aggressively."

She was aware of Nog throwing her an astounded look over his shoulder, but she didn't flicker. She knew that these people hadn't spent the last few years as she had, ready to fight and die for Starfleet and the Federation. That was why she was carrying the role of first officer. Until the captain arrived, she was in command, and the protection of her ship and crewmates was her first and only priority.

"Still no response," T'Shanik stated firmly. "They continue to close on an intercept course."

"The alien vessel is powering up its weapons," Ro remarked crisply.

"The vessel remains on a heading directly for us, Commander," Nog said, his high, piping voice sounding thin and alone amid the tense atmosphere of the bridge. "Their propulsion system is limited, capable of warp five or less. We can easily avoid them."

Kelly suppressed a snort of disgust at the fear she thought she detected in his words of caution.

"Target their weapons array," she instructed her tactical officer.

Ro started a little, but she input the necessary commands. "Vessel is within range," she informed the first officer at the same time Kelly heard the subtle hiss of the turbolift behind her, heralding the arrival of the rest of the alpha shift, a full minute behind the first wave. Kelly didn't look back, trusting that the late arrivals would find their places quickly and competently. Her fists clenched at her side as she viewed the oncoming vessel that was not deviating in its course for one second. Neither would Millennium, she determined. The Federation would not be bullied by some alien pirate who thought he had stumbled upon easy prey.

"Fire," she ordered in a cool, clear voice.

The captain reclined comfortably on the pillows stacked against the headboard of her bed, her hands resting lightly on the blonde head nestled between her thighs. Guiding her lover with slight pressure from her fingertips, Janeway watched Seven of Nine through eyes lidded with languid desire. Delicious chills of intense pleasure rippled through her with every touch of the Borg's skilled and gentle tongue and she drew up her knees to offer a more accessible angle to her spouse, shivering from the sheer sensation of the oral caresses, the delight radiating through her lower abdomen with marvelous tension.

Seven granted a few parting strokes of her tongue, kissing the captain's sensitive flesh lovingly before rising gracefully from the auburn nest. The Borg's body uncoiled to reveal full, pink tipped breasts, a sinuous torso with its finely muscled stomach and, incongruously, a rather prominent erection sprouting from the blonde thatch at the apex of her long, golden legs. Janeway's lips drew back over her teeth in a smile that was more feral than pleasant.

"Hurry, darling," she commanded quietly.

Seven reached over to the jar resting on the nightstand, dipping her fingers in to withdraw a generous dollop of lubrication. Janeway didn't think moisture was necessarily a problem at this particular moment, but the Borg was always mindful of making this permeation of their lovemaking as pleasurable as possible. Wrapping her fingers around the artificial accessory decorating her loins, she applied the additional moisture lavishly over the thick shaft, making it gleam in the lowered illumination. Janeway caught her breath, feeling her pelvis contract in delighted anticipation. Seven crouched over her, guiding the fat head of the penile probe to the captain's juncture where she rubbed it slowly up and down the warm wetness. Janeway groaned happily and reached for the small device strapped to her wrist.

The Wonder Wand 9000 was programmed by a remote control that allowed varying parameters to be altered and set for the device that simulated male genitalia. The couple did not use the accessory all the time, but it was a lovely way to accentuate their lovemaking, particularly when Janeway was feeling exceedingly amorous and required more than even Seven's long and dexterous fingers could provide. Initially, the remote had been isolated, small enough to fit neatly into the palm of Janeway's hand, which meant it often became lost amid the tangled bedding as they made love, requiring a great deal of time and effort to find it in the aftermath. Seven had neatly solved the problem by adding a fabric band, allowing Janeway to strap the remote to her arm like an old style wristwatch, and making it readily available when the captain wanted to make certain adjustments on the fly.

She did so now, making the wand slightly larger than the parameters Seven had initially set, as well as significantly increasing the sensitivity. That wrung a heartfelt groan from the Borg as she pressed into the captain, slowly pushing inside the damp heat until she was buried to the hilt. The artificial appendage boasted sensors along its entire length, transmitting sensation to Seven's sensitive nodule. To the young woman, it felt as if her clitoris had been extended several inches, the adjusted sensors enhancing the sense of being inside her beloved partner's most intimate recesses to a level of intense, almost painful, sensitivity. Every millimeter of the silky surroundings provided the most exquisite pleasure for the Borg as she slipped into the captain.

"Oh, Kathryn," she murmured, her breath coming hard and fast.

"Darling," Janeway whispered, sliding her arms around the Borg's neck and pulling her down on top of her, delighting in the feel of Seven's warm, womanly body sliding over her, the generous cushion of her breasts pressing against her own. Though the sensation between her legs was apparently male in intent, Janeway could easily imagine it was Seven who was filling her, her flesh probing deep inside. "Oh, darling ... please ... do it..."

Seven began to move within Janeway slowly, withdrawing slightly, and then pushing back, increasing the length and depth with every stroke. Janeway undulated her hips, rising to meet each vigorous thrust, hearing the Borg grunt softly in her ear at the moist impact that reverberated through both of them. Janeway spread her legs wider, her hands slipping over the Borg's back, urging her on.

"Oh, my love, yes," she chanted as the tempo increased, feeling the sinew and muscle ripple beneath her palms, the skin silky smooth. "Yes, oh yes, oh yes, oh yes..."

Just as she was reaching that pinnacle, just as the age old rhythm generated by the women threatened to overwhelm her in the most wonderful way, a jarring shriek nearly caused her to have a seizure.

"Red Alert. All hands to battle stations. Senior officers to the bridge."

Janeway thought her nervous system would simply shut down as passion and pleasure threw up their figurative hands and fled screaming in all directions, abandoning her like rats deserting a sinking ship. Forcefully, she shoved on Seven's shoulders, twisting away from her spouse even as the Borg did her best to withdraw without unduly hurting the captain.

"Dammit, dammit, dammit," became the chant now as Janeway quickly rolled off the bed and snatched up her uniform, discarded earlier on the bedroom floor. Disregarding the undergarments, she hastily pulled on her trousers and sweater, jamming her bare feet into her boots. She grabbed her tunic and raced for the turbolift in the outer part of the captain's quarters, ignoring Seven when the Borg called plaintively after her.

"Bridge," she snapped, shrugging into the black tunic, fastening it up the front as she settled her shoulders beneath the padded accents of slate-blue. She raked her fingers through her hair in an unconscious attempt to straighten it as the doors opened and she stepped onto the bridge.

Commander Kelly was standing in front of the command chair, hands clenched at her sides, her jaw steady. "Fire," she said in a clear, commanding voice.

Janeway glanced at the screen, evaluating the vessel headed directly for them. It appeared much smaller than the Millennium, though clearly aggressive in its approach. Still, she hadn't felt any jolt in the past few minutes, no impact of energy beams on the shields, no sense that her vessel was being attacked. In the same instant, she noticed Ro glance over her shoulder at the first officer, a brief hesitation as if this was not an action the security chief would necessarily choose, before the Bajoran obediently turned around and moved her hands over the tactical board, targeting the approaching vessel.

"Belay that," she snapped, striding purposely for the command chair and jerking her head slightly to make the commander give way. Kelly did so hastily when she realized the captain was on the bridge. "Report."

"Vessel approaching has weapon banks fully charged," Ro said before Kelly could open her mouth. "They are on a direct collision course with Millennium. However, they're also significantly outgunned."

"They ambushed us from the nebula, Captain, and offered no response to our hails," Kelly said in a somewhat defensive tone, sitting down at her station and not looking back at the captain. "I raised shields and activated the weapons, instituting a red alert. As the hostile closed within range, they powered up their weapons, still refusing to respond to our hails."

Janeway frowned briefly. "Did they fire on us?"

There was a brief hesitation by the first officer. "No, Captain, but they were about to."

Janeway felt a muscle twitch in her jaw. "Full stop," she demanded. "Power down weapons."

Nog and Ro immediately obeyed, though Kelly whirled in her chair, looking at the captain in disbelief. "Captain..." she began.

"As you were, Commander," Janeway said tightly.

She reinforced her grip on the arms of her command chair, waiting as the small vessel barged toward them, coming so close that Janeway was sure she had guessed wrong and it was surely going to ram them. At the last possible second, the alien ship stopped dead only a few hundred meters in front of the Federation vessel. Janeway raised an eyebrow of appreciation at the inertial dampeners the small vessel had to possess. Millennium couldn't match that maneuverability on its best day. Even the fighters the vessel had once carried might not have been able to stop as quickly without plastering its contents against the fore bulkhead.

"We're being hailed, Captain," T'Shanik said calmly.

Janeway slowly let out a breath she didn't even know she was holding. "On screen."

The alien that appeared on the large viewscreen at the front of the bridge looked like a cross between a ferret and a raccoon. It glared at the Federation captain with beady red eyes.

"You presume to enter Raelien space?" The translator rendered the alien's voice as a high pitched squeak, and the captain was suddenly hard-pressed not to smile. It was beginning to look like the Beta Quadrant was populated with talking critters of all sorts.

"I apologize for our intrusion," she said smoothly. "We were unaware this area of space was claimed."

"It is claimed by the Raelien Republic," the creature snapped. "You must respect our authority."

He ... she? ... was considerably agitated, and Janeway wondered if the alien might also be a little bit afraid. Surely, the alien's sensors could determine that Millennium boasted far more powerful shields and weaponry than did the Raelien vessel. If so, her respect for his courage in attempting to protect his space, and presumably, his people, increased accordingly.

Janeway exhaled slowly. "If you would transmit a star chart detailing the extent of your territory, we'll alter course and do our absolute best to remain outside your borders."

The alien blinked, and Janeway thought he looked surprised, though she realized how dangerous it was to apply humanoid standards to unknown species. "You will?"

Janeway lifted a brow. "Of course," she told him. "We're peaceful explorers. We have absolutely no reason to violate the sovereignty of your space."

As hard as she tried not to ascribe Human emotion to the alien, she suspected that what crossed his features next was unadulterated relief. She tilted her head, waiting patiently as he looked down, making a few adjustments to whatever board he was seated behind. "Who are you?" he demanded finally.

"I'm Captain Kathryn Janeway of the starship Millennium," she said. "We're representatives of the United Federation of Planets."

He glanced at her sharply. "The United Federation? Not the Confederation of Species?"

She paused, wondering about that. There was something there, some subtle inflection.

"No," she said quietly, not bothering to explain about the recent negotiations she had undergone with that same civilization, or the representative currently on board. "Our ship is equipped with a propulsion system that allows us to travel vast distances. We're actually from the Alpha Quadrant, hundreds of thousands of light-years from here."

"You came all the way out here to explore?" His tone was disbelieving.

"That is our way," Janeway said.

"Your ship carries considerable armament," he muttered.

She smiled, carefully not showing her teeth. "We're explorers. We're not fools."

He appreciated that, throwing his head back in what must have been the Raelien's version of laughter, a chitter of sound like nails across a blackboard. Janeway managed not to wince, but was glad to know a sense of humor provided some commonality between them.

"I am Major Quwill," he said finally. "Of the Raelien Guard. We will transmit a star chart outlining our boundaries."

"Thank you," Janeway said politely. She glanced over at T'Shanik. The Vulcan ops officer nodded after a few seconds, indicating she had received the transmission. She looked back at the screen. "We have them, Major."

"Safe waters to you, Millennium," he said, obviously a farewell of sorts, and abruptly closed the channel. On the viewscreen, the ship immediately began to move off, at the same hasty velocity with which it had approached.

"Lieutenant, transfer those charts to the helm. Helm, set a course that will keep us well away from Raelien space. Stand down red alert."

"Aye, Captain," the Ferengi at the navigational station responded.

Janeway, still rather agitated from the incident and what it had interrupted, stepped down off the upper command level, moving slightly to the right where the first officer station was located. She bent down, resting her hand on the back of Kelly's chair. "Number One," she said in a low, angry voice that only the exec could hear, "a Starfleet vessel does not fire first, no matter what the provocation. You have to remember where you are and what you represent as a Starfleet officer."

"Yes, Captain," Kelly responded flatly.

Janeway stood up, belatedly noticing that the science station, located on her left side, remained unmanned. She wondered what was keeping Seven. The science officer should have reported directly to the bridge during a red alert, not to her department. Kelly also should have replaced the personnel when Seven failed to show up promptly.

From the corner of Janeway's eye, a glimpse of the dark band on her wrist nudged her memory and she blanched. What would Seven do, knowing she had to report for duty, but unable to remove the accessory as long as the captain possessed the remote control? Would she adapt and assure the bridge that she was on her way?

The captain heard the arrival of the turbolift, and she looked back to her right as the doors opened to reveal the science officer dressed in her uniform, trying somewhat futilely to rearrange the bulge in her pants into looking like something less that what it was. Janeway's eyes widened

"Uh, this seems under control," she said hastily, causing Kelly to look up with an odd expression. "It's late and I need to be up early for the alpha shift. The rest of you can recall your replacements from the beta shift." She knew she was being impossibly short with her staff, but she had to get Seven back to their quarters before anyone noticed the appendage the young woman suddenly sported beneath her uniform trousers.

She doubted that it could be explained away as some kind of Borg implant.

As the door to the turbolift opened. Seven attempted to once again manipulate the prominent erection beneath her pants into some subtle position where it would not be so obvious. Glancing up, she observed Janeway making a gesture with her hand that Seven recognized as one meant to hold her in position. It wasn't unlike the gesture that the couple once used with their Irish Setter, and although Seven obeyed, she wasn't entirely pleased. She waited as Janeway jumped up the step to the command level and began to walk toward Seven, angling her body to shield her from the rest of the bridge.

"Commander, I'll want a full report on my desk by 0800," she threw hastily over her shoulder. "You have the bridge."

"Aye, Captain." Seven noticed that Kelly had stood up and was staring after the captain with apparent puzzlement and no little disgruntlement.

Once the doors slid shut behind the captain, she raised her chin, her features tight. "Deck three, captain's quarters," she barked. "Command direct."

Seven eyed her curiously. A flush was slowly rising in Janeway's cheeks, making them pink. "Oh, God, Seven, I'm so sorry," she said in a low voice, her eyes forward. "I forgot all about the remote."

"It took me some time to dress," Seven explained with a touch of annoyance in her tone. "I was unable to report to duty in a timely manner."

"That's completely my fault," Janeway said sincerely. "I'll make sure it's clear in the ship's log that you were unavoidably detained." She glanced sideways at the bulge in Seven's uniform trousers, and her lips suddenly twitched. Seven knew the captain's initial panic and embarrassment were giving way to amusement now that the crisis was over and they were on their way back to the safe haven of their cabin. "Were you really going to report to the bridge like that?"

Seven lifted a brow as she readjusted herself uncomfortably. "What other choice did I have?"

"You could have stayed in our quarters," Janeway told her, a smile beginning to curve the corners of her mouth, "and waited on my return."

"Is that the proper protocol for this sort of situation?" Seven was honestly curious.

"I don't think there are any protocols for this sort of situation."

Janeway started to laugh, leaning weakly against the turbolift walls as the doors opened to their quarters. Dignity affronted, Seven stepped off the lift, ignoring her spouse who needed a few more seconds before she was able to follow.

"I'm sorry, Annika," Janeway apologized a second time, still chuckling as she trailed the Borg into the bedroom. "Honestly, I am. I promise; from now on, whoever is wearing the wand can hold the remote."

Seven shot her a glare, not believing her for one moment. Janeway's need for control was well established, which was why the couple had adapted the remote for the captain's use in the first place. Shaking her head, Seven began to remove her uniform, easing the waistband of her tight undergarment over the wand that immediately sprang upward in all its seventeen centimeter glory as it was released from confinement. Protruding from her loins like some sort of sensing device, it probed the air before it as though seeking the connection of another body.

"How do males adapt to this?" she demanded, regarding it with no little disgust.

"Who says they do?" Janeway offered with a suspicious gurgle underlying her words. She started to laugh again, falling onto the bed weakly.

Seven shook her head, knowing she would be unable to get anything coherent from the captain for some time. She held out her hand.

"The remote," she demanded flatly.

Janeway, still laughing, fumbled briefly, but removed it from her wrist and handed it to the Borg. Then she covered her face with her hands as another wave of giggles overwhelmed her. Seven exhaled audibly and input the directions that caused the accessory to withdraw the tendrils surrounding her hips and release the suction on the Borg's clitoris. The little organ felt rather sore, having received a great deal of buffeting as Seven attempted to conceal the accessory in her pants. After sterilizing the wand in the unit concealed behind a small mirror in the headboard, she returned it and the jar of lubrication to their proper compartment. She picked up her uniform, ran it through the nearby replicator and put it in the ensuite where she showered quickly and cleaned her teeth before finally returning to the bedroom.

Janeway, no longer laughing, lay on her back, hands linked behind her head as she contemplated the ceiling, though a smile still quirked her lips when she glanced over at the Borg who had paused next to the bed. "Are you all right, darling?"

"It hurts," Seven said, as she reached down and used her fingertips to carefully draw back the puffy lips of her genitalia, revealing a reddened protrusion of flesh that she examined with clinical concern "Apparently, wearing the accessory under clothing is not a recommended procedure."

The captain sat up, leaning over slightly as she peered at the Borg's tender node with intense scrutiny. "Poor little thing." Intrigued, Seven tilted her head as Janeway moved slightly closer, and she could feel the captain's warm breath wash over her. "Does it really hurt, darling?"

Seven eyed her narrowly. "Terribly."

Janeway smiled faintly. "Would a kiss help?"

Seven considered it. "Perhaps," she allowed cautiously. She trembled as the captain bestowed the gentlest of kisses upon her smarting protrusion, along with a delicate dart of tongue over the tip.

"Is that a little better?"

Seven swallowed. "A little."

Janeway kissed it again, a little more lingeringly, and then suddenly seemed to lose interest, rolling across the bed where she stood up. Seven was disappointed, but not necessarily surprised. Janeway's temper was notoriously fickle in the wake of a red alert, her behavior random and occasionally volatile. Being interrupted during a sensitive moment had only exacerbated that moodiness. The Borg sighed and slipped between the sheets, snuggling down into the bed as she listened to the energetic sounds of the captain in the bathroom completing her ablutions. When Janeway finally joined her, she had showered and was wearing a t-shirt that hung about her hips in a most provocative fashion.

Seven wrapped herself around the captain as soon as she was settled, pulling her back against her chest and tucking her knees up under hers as they spooned together.

"Are you all right, Kathryn?" she asked gently as she nuzzled her spouse.

"You know, a red alert is one thing," Janeway said as she huddled in the Borg's embrace. "Interrupting us like that is quite another. I may just have to court martial my first officer."

"I do not believe it was Kelly's intention to interrupt us at such an inopportune moment," Seven told her dryly.

"Hmm, maybe not," the captain allowed. "That still doesn't make it acceptable. I nearly had a heart attack."

Seven smiled faintly and slipped her hand under the thin material of the captain's shirt, placing her palm warmly against Janeway's stomach and spreading her fingers over the slight swell. "Do you need anything now, Kathryn?"

Janeway twitched slightly, but she reached down and covered Seven's hand with her own, holding it in place rather than encouraging further caresses. "I don't think so, darling. I've sort of lost the mood." She paused. "You?"

Seven considered it. Though aroused, she wanted to make love, with all the intimacy that encompassed, rather than merely have her physical needs attended to by the captain. In lieu of that, cuddling was an acceptable substitute.

"No, Kathryn," she said finally. "I am fine."

Janeway exhaled. "Want your back scratched?"

Seven smiled, touched by the offer. "Thank you, Kathryn, but no," she said softly. "I just want to hold you."

Janeway turned her head, and Seven accepted the invitation to lean over and kiss her gently. "I love you, darling."

Seven kissed her again. "My Kathryn," she said, hugging her tight.

Janeway sighed softly and relaxed, closing her eyes. "What am I going to do with Kelly?" Her voice was small in the night.

"Are you asking for my opinion?" Seven responded with some surprise. Janeway had been somewhat reticent to share what was going on with her first officer, though it was all over the ship by now that there was some kind of problem between Kelly and the captain.

"She questions my authority, she's insolent in her dealings with certain of the senior staff, particularly Nog, and she has horrible instincts when it comes to responding to external situations," Janeway muttered fretfully. "I know she's spent her career in the most dire of circumstances and I'm supposed to train her away from it, but I don't even know where to begin."

"You have already begun, Kathryn." Seven nuzzled her comfortingly. "Kelly has been placed in new and radically different surroundings, just as I was when I first came on board Voyager. Her responses are that of a hardened soldier, not a diplomat or a scientist or even necessarily a Starfleet officer."

"But she is a Starfleet officer, Seven," Janeway objected stubbornly. "She has the same education and training as the rest of us. Her marks were very good at the Academy. All her senior officers ... those that survived ... were very complimentary of her abilities."

"I was Human before I was assimilated, Kathryn," Seven pointed out, "but my reactions are still Borg for the most part and will always be. Kelly's experience from the time she graduated the Academy has been to kill or be killed." Seven paused. "The species is exceptionally good with that adaptation. Strip away the veneer of social parameters, and Humans are most formidable beings. Kelly's layer of civilization has become very thin over the past seven years."

Janeway was silent for a time, contemplating the Borg's words. Seven knew that only in these surroundings, only in the warm haven of their bed, could she offer her opinion in this manner. Kathryn was, at this moment, more spouse than captain. Were she upright and wearing her uniform, her instincts would be not to listen to a viewpoint so at odds with what she knew and believed a Starfleet officer to be.

"How could someone taught at the Academy become the opposite of everything Starfleet represents?"

"How could Captain Ransom or the other officers on Equinox?" Seven pulled her closer. "Kathryn, I know that in your heart, you feared that you could become as Ransom was, if the circumstances had been slightly different."

Janeway caught her breath, and Seven knew she had stung her with her words. They had never discussed the captain's fear, though Seven had talked with Kes about the thin line between obsession and determination. Seven knew unquestionably that Janeway's determination to get Voyager home had slid alarmingly close to obsession on more than one occasion.

"Kathryn, I do not say that to hurt you," Seven continued gently when the captain remained silent. "I say it because I believe it is important that you understand the root cause of Kelly's attitude. She is a Starfleet officer who has, in the past, been rewarded for the same type of actions that you are angered with now. It must be very confusing to her." She paused. "She also has yet to learn exactly who and what you are. She perceives only your Starfleet veneer, not who you truly are as a captain or as an individual. She is like a member of the Maquis, without Commander Chakotay to soften the way. She is like B'Elanna without..."

"I get it, Seven," Janeway interrupted her spouse, but her voice was warm as she did so. "You're saying that Kelly and I are making assumptions about each other that aren't necessarily warranted."

"Precisely. Assumptions that color your responses to each other."

Janeway swallowed, the sound of throat muscles moving easily audible to the Borg. For a few moments, Seven listened to her breathe and knew Janeway was thinking about her words very seriously. "How did you reach this conclusion?" the captain asked finally.

Seven smiled faintly. "I am quite familiar with the process, Kathryn. I look back at how we interacted during my first months on Voyager, and realize how much we did not know each other. However, there was always something between us that made us want to understand each other --- something that caused us to make an effort beyond what could normally be expected of us. I do not believe that either you or Kelly necessarily share that desire to understand each other. Furthermore, you are both so strong willed that you are determined the other will come around to your way of thinking if you can only maintain your stance long enough."

"So one of us has to give and you're saying it has to be me," Janeway sighed.

"It is not a question of surrender, Kathryn. It is a question of altering the rules. You must cheat." Seven kissed her. "Something at which you are most skilled."

"Cheat?" Janeway was silent for a long moment. "Hmm, perhaps I've already started."

"Kathryn?"

But Janeway pulled the covers up over her shoulder and sighed quietly, closing her eyes to indicate the conversation was over. Seven hesitated but finally relented, aware that there was a time to push when it came to pillow talk involving ship's business, and a time to pull back. Kissing Janeway's temple gently, Seven pulled the captain close and settled down for the night, knowing that tomorrow was another day, and there would be another opportunity to find out what Janeway had meant by such an unhelpfully cryptic statement.

Ro lingered behind as the rest of the alpha shift gave way to the beta crew, trying not to appear too obtrusive about it. She had volunteered to help the captain figure out what was going on with the first officer, though she suspected that she would have befriended the young woman in any event. There was something about her, something very familiar to the older Bajoran, something that made her heart ache a little whenever she saw the struggles of the first officer.

Kelly had resumed her place in the command chair, a decidedly surly expression on her face as she stared at the viewscreen, though her eyes were unhappy. Ro wanted to say something comforting, knowing that the woman had reacted to the situation just as her conditioning and training during the Dominion War had dictated. The Bajoran was also becoming aware of how Janeway was appearing to the young woman. If a person didn't know the captain, hadn't served with her for very long, then it was easy to misunderstand the captain's actions and motivations. Janeway had essentially surrendered to the tiny vessel bursting from the nebula, had given way to its aggressive charge as if she had held the weaker position, without anything to substantiate such a tactical stance.

It would be exceedingly difficult for Kelly to accept that the captain could absorb the situation in a glance and make what turned out to be the correct decision, especially when the alien vessel hadn't stopped its approach until practically nose-to-nose with the much larger Federation vessel. It would have appeared as a somewhat insane strategy to Kelly, a lucky guess rather than a decision formed from years of experience with First Contact scenarios.

Ro had also heard the sharp little lecture Janeway had offered Kelly in the aftermath, though she suspected she was the only one who had. It wasn't like the captain to rip into someone like that on the bridge, but on the other hand, Kelly could have caused an incident of galactic proportions. They didn't know anything about the Raeliens, or how many other, significantly larger vessels could have been lurking in the nebula, waiting to see what happened in the initial contact with the alien ship invading their territory. However, Ro didn't think she should point that out at the moment. That would be something better left when the first officer wasn't feeling so raw.

"Commander?" Kelly was eyeing her, a defensive expression in her green eyes.

Ro checked what she was about to say, swallowing back the words of encouragement. Given the mood the young woman was in, they might be misconstrued --- sounding like support for a stance that Ro knew had been misguided if not exactly wrong. Instead, she dipped her head.

"We still on for tomorrow afternoon?"

Ro's off duty rotation was the next day, and she and Kelly had scheduled a workout in the ship's gym before the first officer reported for duty on the beta shift. Kelly looked vaguely relieved at the reminder, as if afraid Ro had intended to say something else to her.

"Of course," Kelly said. "I'll see you there, Laren."

Ro left the bridge and stepped into the turbolift, wondering at the glimpse she had of Seven just before the captain dismissed them. From her angle at tactical, she had the perfect line of sight into the turbolift where the Borg had been groping at the front of her pants, discomforted in some way. The captain had clearly indicated with a hand signal that Seven should remain in the turbolift rather than come onto the bridge. The rest of the senior crew hadn't even been aware of the science officer's arrival, only of the captain's hasty and somewhat inelegant departure. Ro could only imagine what the red alert had interrupted, causing Janeway and Seven to act in such an unusual manner, but she had her suspicions. Not that she was about to pass them on to anyone, particularly her spouse, though she knew B'Elanna would find it tremendously amusing.

The chief engineer had already returned to their family quarters on deck four. She was picking up the plates of food that had grown cold in their absence, retrieving the utensils that had been flung aside as Ro scampered for the bridge and B'Elanna dashed for main engineering. The Bajoran offered her a smile as the door hissed shut behind her.

"So much for our romantic dinner," she said ruefully.

"We'll try again tomorrow night," B'Elanna promised.

Ro moved over to help the engineer finish cleaning up. Solid, with long, dark wavy hair that framed features that readily revealed her Klingon/Human heritage, B'Elanna Torres was a beautiful woman. It was still hard for Ro to believe that they had been married for a couple of years. She had been such a loner for so much of her life that finding someone to love, and more impossibly, someone who returned that love, still seemed something of a fantasy.

"What prompted the red alert?" B'Elanna asked curiously as she shoved the dishes in the replicator where they sparkled and disappeared, broken down into their component elements and absorbed back into the ship's systems. Engineering was sometimes the last to know what was happening, a state of affairs that was particularly difficult for B'Elanna who liked to know everything that was going on.

"An alien vessel dashed out of the nebula and took a run at us," Ro said as she shrugged out of her tunic. "Commander Kelly ... well, may have overreacted a bit. The captain definitely thinks she did, anyway."

"So it was a bluff?"

Ro nodded. "The captain read it immediately, of course, and smoothed things over. We've altered course to go around their space."

B'Elanna laughed low in her throat. "Making Kelly look a bit silly in the process?"

Ro sank back onto the sofa, spreading her arms out on either side as she regarded her spouse thoughtfully. "Kelly's reflexes are all wrong for this mission," she said quietly. "I can't imagine why Nechayev appointed her to a science vessel on a deep space voyage."

"So Janeway could shape and mold her into the sort of proud, upstanding Starfleet officer the admiral demands," B'Elanna said in a reasonable tone as she moved over to the sofa and straddled the Bajoran, settling onto her lap as she slipped her arms around her neck. "Or kill her in the process."

Ro smiled. "I suppose you're right, but it's not very easy on the captain. Or on Kelly, either."

B'Elanna tilted her head, looking down at her curiously. "You like her, don't you?"

Ro exhaled, thinking about it. "She reminds me a little of me," she admitted finally. "All sharp corners and edges, so sure that she knows exactly how the universe really is and the rest of us are just poor deluded fools who can't see what's right in front of us. Running on instinct and limited experience, unable to figure out that, just maybe, there's a better way if she'd only slow down and take a look. I don't envy the captain her task."

"But look at what Janeway managed with you," B'Elanna purred, settling closer. "From Maquis outlaw to a dependable security chief, third in command of the most prestigious vessel in the fleet after the flagship, not to mention a respectable married woman."

"I think you're the one who's responsible for the last," Ro corrected with dry humor. She lifted a brow, eyeing her partner narrowly. "Respectable, am I? It makes me sound old. Are the gray hairs starting to show?"

B'Elanna kissed her, capturing Ro's bottom lip and nibbling it gently before releasing it. "I retract the 'respectable'," she said in a low, rumbling voice. She glanced up at Ro's dark hair, straight and shiny, falling in a gentle curve to her collar. "And I certainly don't see any gray."

"If there were, it wouldn't be from age," Ro said ruefully, "but from the situations I keep finding myself in." She slipped her arms around the Klingon's waist, pulling her tight against her body. "I'm counting on you to keep me young at heart."

B'Elanna frowned. "You're talking like you're twice my age, instead of only..." she paused to count. "Let's see, you were born in 2340 and I was born in 2349 which makes you only nine years older than me. I'm 31, and you're 40. That's not even middle-aged for a Bajoran."

Ro laughed. "They're a hard nine years, however."

B'Elanna pressed closer, kissing the security chief's neck. "You're exaggerating," she muttered and started to tug on the Bajoran's sweater, freeing it from where it was tucked into her trousers. "You're young enough to keep up with me, and there aren't a lot of people who can say that."

Ro offered a mock sigh. "You're always so amorous after a red alert."

B'Elanna chuckled. "So are you."

The security chief dipped her head, capturing the Klingon's mouth in a searing kiss. "So am I," she agreed in a husky whisper.

She helped B'Elanna shrug out of her tunic and pulled her sweater over her head, revealing shapely breasts tipped with fat, brown nipples. B'Elanna rarely wore undergarments beneath her uniform, a pleasant little quirk that Ro found completely charming. She reached between their bodies and rolled the little nubs between her fingers, squeezing hard, feeling them stiffen as the Klingon groaned.

"Let's go in the bedroom," B'Elanna demanded, pulling away from Ro and heading briskly for the door leading to the other room, shedding the rest of her uniform as she went. Ro quickly followed suit, completely naked by the time she reached the bed where B'Elanna was waiting for her with some impatience. The Klingon pulled her down on top of her, the women rolling around the large bed as they kissed and stroked each other with fevered interest.

Afterward, they lay in languid satisfaction, a distinct contrast to their heated and physical sharing of pleasure. Ro lay on her back, staring idly into the warm darkness as B'Elanna snuggled close to her side. The more energetic the Klingon was in making love, the more vulnerable she seemed in the aftermath, as if she had given away too much of herself and wasn't quite sure how it would be received. Ro kissed her gently on the prominent cranial ridges decorating B'Elanna's head, and squeezed her lovingly.

"Are you happy, Lanna?" she asked softly.

B'Elanna chuckled. "Funny, I was just thinking about that. I'm as happy as I've ever been, Laren. I have you. I have my work. I have my friends. I don't think it gets better than this."

Ro smiled. "I don't think so, either." She exhaled slowly. "In the old days, I'd worry that if I felt so good, something bad was just around the corner. Now, I just try to cherish these times for as long as I can."

"I'm the same," B'Elanna said, rubbing the Bajoran's muscular stomach lightly in slow, gentle circles. She raised her head so that she could look in Ro's eyes. "Is there anything else you want, Laren? Anything that you think we've yet to achieve?"

Ro shook her head slightly. "No," she said. "I mean, professionally, I'm sure the promotions will come for both of us sooner or later. I even think I'll end up as a first officer somewhere."

"You want it to be here, though, don't you?"

"I'm not sure that's likely to happen so long as Starfleet keeps using Millennium as a proving ground for their command candidates," Ro pointed out practically.

"But Janeway already treats you like her first officer," B'Elanna said soberly. "Maybe not in terms of your duties, but you're the one she's been going to since we left the Alpha Quadrant."

"I've noticed. It's because she's so uncomfortable with Kelly." Ro paused. "I'm not sure how to fix that."

"Is it your job to fix it?"

"Perhaps not my job, but possibly my responsibility." She frowned. "I'll have to think about it."

B'Elanna rubbed her cheek against the smooth skin of the Bajoran's upper chest. "What about personally?"

Ro tightened her embrace. "You make me very happy, Lanna," she told her quietly. "What else is there?"

B'Elanna hesitated. "Kids, maybe?"

Ro was stunned, needing a moment to find her voice. "Do you want children?"

"I don't know," the Klingon said slowly. "I guess it's something that's popped into my mind a lot lately, maybe because we're on a ship with families now. I gave one of the school classes a tour of the engine room this morning, and all I could think about was what it would be like if one or two of the little deck rats were ours."

"Oh." Ro, frankly, was at a loss for words. This topic had never came up for discussion before. B'Elanna seemed to sense the Bajoran's bafflement, and raised her head so that she could smile at the security chief.

"I'm not saying we should run right out and have ourselves one of the little monsters," she reassured her. "It's just something to think about for the future."

"All right," Ro said carefully. "I'll give it some thought. "

B'Elanna studied her partner's face thoughtfully. "What's your first gut reaction, Laren? Repugnance? Revulsion? Antipathy?"

Ro shook her head. "No, nothing like that," she said, searching for the words that would reassure her spouse. "Just ... honest surprise, Lanna. Maybe a little fear at the magnitude of it. A little wonder at the fact I'm finally in the position in my life to seriously consider such a thing. It's not something I ever thought would happen for me."

B'Elanna nodded. "Fair enough," she said lightly. "I did sort of spring this on you out of the blue."

Ro reached up and cupped the Klingon's cheek, her eyes intent. "I love you," she said softly. "You know that."

B'Elanna grinned, revealing sharp edged teeth. "I do."

"I absolutely do."

Janeway straightened in her seat at the head of the table, glancing over at the others who were settling into their chairs now that their guest had been seated. Seven and Ro were seated to the the captain's right, while to her left, the Confederation ambassador, Jiidan, had been provided with an elevated stool, allowing him to be on the same level as the rest of the diners. Lt. Torres was next to him, across from her spouse, and completing the circle of diners at the oval table were Dr. Pulaski, and Commander Kes. The unfamiliar surroundings of the captain's private dining room on deck two lent a more formal air to the evening, though the Starfleet officers remained in regular uniform. The captain hoped that the menu her spouse had so carefully chosen and prepared would prove acceptable to their alien visitor.

Paryk and a few other crewmembers pressed into service as waiters, began to serve the meal from the nearby pantry where it had been placed in stasis a few hours earlier. The captain had lost the habit of being so formal during her years in the Delta Quadrant --- not that she could since her private dining room on Voyager had been taken over by Neelix a few weeks into the journey --- but it was tradition to welcome an alien observer to the ship with an intimate dinner party that included the senior staff. Kelly should have been present as well, Janeway supposed somewhat fretfully, but the first officer was currently supervising the beta shift on the bridge. The young woman had volunteered to work double shifts to make up for her unfortunate lapse during the transition jump that cost the ship her services for four days. Janeway, lacking any idea about what else to do with the woman, had accepted the offer, beginning the rotation as soon as they departed Confederation space. She just hoped there wouldn't be a repeat of aggression from her, should the Millennium encounter another Raelien vessel.

"Excuse me, Captain," Jiidan piped up as the waiters placed the first course in front of the diners. Janeway offered him her full attention. "I was curious about the conflict last evening."

"Conflict?"

"I understand you inadvertently entered Raelien space?"

"Ah," Janeway said, wondering how the Confederation ambassador had learned of the incident so quickly. Of course, Jiidan had been given full access to the ship's logs during his time on Millennium, and the encounter certainly hadn't been classified. "It was a minor misunderstanding."

"I was impressed by how diplomatically you handled it," he told her earnestly. "Your conversation with the major not only afforded him his dignity, but perhaps paved the way for future contact."

"I hope so," Janeway responded, watching surreptitiously as he tried his soup tentatively and then began to scoop it up quickly, as if he had not eaten in weeks. She had to control her urge to laugh. The Soularri were just so damned cute. "The Federation has no intention of violating the sovereignty of other species while in the Beta Quadrant."

"Will you attempt to make allies of them?"

Janeway wondered why he was so interested, but then decided it was his purpose as ambassador to observe as much as he could about the Federation and their methods while exploring the Beta Quadrant. "I doubt we'll make a special effort as we did with the Confederation," she told him readily "However, if the opportunity arises, we'll most certainly take advantage of it. First Contact is one of the primary mission statements of Millennium."

"Captain Janeway has recorded more First Contact encounters than anyone else in Starfleet history," Commander Ro interjected smoothly. She didn't add that the captain hadn't exactly had much choice in the matter. Flung 70,000 light-years away from home years earlier, practically every species they encountered had been a First Contact scenario. "Her reputation is well known in the Alpha Quadrant."

"Most impressive, Captain," Jiidan said. His tone was completely sincere.

"A matter of circumstance," she offered modestly. Kelly really should have been there rather than Ro, the captain decided somewhat shamefully. The Bajoran served almost too well in the young woman's stead, making it easy for Janeway not to miss Kelly's services, or worse, find her severely lacking in comparison. On the other hand, she couldn't deny that it was a lot easier to concentrate on the subtle undercurrents of the Soularri's conversation when she wasn't worrying about what her volatile new exec might do or say next.

"The Raelien distrust for us in the Confederacy is well known," Jiidan went on as the second course was placed before them, replacing the soup, which Janeway was gratified to see, had gone quickly. She knew all the foods chosen were perfectly safe for the Soularri metabolism, but that didn't necessarily mean they would taste good to the alien ambassador.

"I'm curious, Minister Jiidan," Janeway said, choosing her words carefully. "Is there a reason for that distrust?"

Jiidan didn't appear to take offense. "Several, Captain. They are wary of the Elthania in particular."

Janeway eyed him, curiosity strong within her as she noted the term he used for Tazna Jade's people. It was not how the Elthanians referred to themselves. She knew she had to ferret out any information carefully, however. "Indeed," she said. "May I ask why?"

He examined his fork full of pasta narrowly, smelled it, and then tasted it. An expression of gratification crossed his fuzzy face and he dug into his meal with considerable enthusiasm.

"It all happened a long time ago," he explained between bites. "The Elthania were, of course, the first to venture into this area of space since it's so close their own." He frowned, apparently puzzled by the bits of mushroom and onion on his fork. "The Confederation didn't exist at that time, and those early Elthania explorers weren't as ... advanced in their evolution as they are now."

"The Raeliens did seem somewhat xenophobic," Janeway allowed in a commiserating tone.

Jiidan seemed amused. "Oh, I wouldn't say that, exactly," he said, nibbling cautiously at a piece of tomato. "They welcomed the Elthania with open arms ... at first. Now, they refuse to be a part of the Confederation so long as the Elthania are members. We do live in hope that one day in the future, they'll be able to embrace the Elthania as they are rather than continue to resent them for what they were."

Janeway noticed that the rest of her staff were listening avidly, following the conversation with keen interest, particularly Ro and B'Elanna.

"So it was the Elthanians that were xenophobic?" the captain prompted gently, scooping up a bit of fettuccini dripping with Alfredo sauce. Chicken Tetrazzini was one of her favorite dishes, and it was prepared to perfection by her spouse. The wine Seven had selected was a light, golden vintage that complimented the meal on every level. Janeway took a sip, allowing it to linger on her tongue.

Jiidan lifted a brow, smiling faintly in a way that the captain didn't quite understand. "No, Captain, the Elthania didn't fear and dislike aliens." He sipped his wine, mimicking the captain. "In fact, one could say that at that time, they liked alien species far too well."

"In what way?" Janeway took another mouthful of wine.

"Oh, usually in a sauce much like this, with a little rice and vegetables on the side," Jiidan said lightly. "I'm afraid the Raeliens lost approximately forty percent of their population to Elthania hunting parties before we were able to step in."

It took a few seconds for the words to sink in, and when they did, Janeway inadvertently spit her wine across the table. She managed to turn her head to the right, away from the Soularri, but both Seven and Ro were forced to lean away from the spray of droplets spattering their uniforms. The captain was unable to apologize immediately because she was too busy coughing, trying to cover her mouth with her napkin. At the far end of the table, Pulaski looked as if she was doing her best not to laugh, covering her eyes with her hand and keeping her head bowed as she pretended an intense interest in her meal.

"They're cannibals?" Janeway wheezed after a moment.

"Of course not, Captain," Jiidan corrected pleasantly, seeming oblivious to her horror as he continued to enjoy his meal. "They never ate each other, only those of other species. Famine and overpopulation were the main factors that drove them into space in the first place, and as a primarily carnivorous species, they tended to look at anything that didn't have the proper number of limbs or organs in the proper place as ... well, fair game, so to speak."

Janeway stared at the short, furry representative of the Confederation with dawning realization, at the placid, teddy bear-like features and tufted ears, and the chubby little body beneath the silky, golden hair. "Including the Soularri?"

Jiidan lifted a black-tipped claw. "I must admit, that's how they initially viewed us, but we were far more technologically advanced than the Elthania. It not only prevented them from preying upon us, it also came as a great shock to their cultural conditioning. Imagine not only having your food stand up and fight back, but ultimately defeat you time after time because it was more intelligent. They were never the same after encountering us, and were finally able to take the first steps on the road to true civilization. We essentially taught them that intelligence was the measure of sentience, not how ... appetizing ... a species may appear." He paused, gazing at her as if suddenly realizing the extent of her lack of knowledge. "The level of technology in the Confederation was established by us, Captain, not the Elthania. For example, we designed Hearthstone, their main port. They merely carried out the construction."

Janeway dropped her napkin to the side of her plate, no longer having much of an appetite. "Why wasn't this included in the data we were given when first encountering the Confederation?"

"Oh, it's all ancient history, Captain," Jiidan said, waving it away as inconsequential while he went back to his meal. The others also continued to eat, though it was somewhat mechanical as they listened to the conversation. Only the captain seemed truly put off her feed at the moment. "Besides, it's not really the sort of thing one tends to bandy about in casual conversation. I'm quite sure the data we uploaded about the history of the Federation is missing a few ... shall we say, choice bits ... about the development of your civilization."

Janeway, conscious that the data pack offered by Starfleet didn't necessarily volunteer certain details like the Eugenics War or the role played by early starship officers in various First Contact encounters that resulted in the eventual implementation of the Prime Directive, didn't try to deny it. Ro chose that moment to take the initiative, leaning forward to pin the Soularri with a look of keen interest.

"To outsiders, the Elthanians appear to be the dominant species in the Confederation," she said in an even voice. "They handle the bulk of duties in the StarScouts, they're represented in significant numbers on the council, they do most of the day-to-day administrative duties for the government, but ultimately, that's a false impression, isn't it? The Soularri actually determine how everything is run."

Janeway held her breath, wondering if the Bajoran's bluntness would be their undoing, but Jiidan merely smiled, displaying his sharp little teeth. "Very astute, Commander," he said, a touch of approval in his tone. "The Elthania are so wonderfully adept at protecting our space, greeting newcomers and keeping the peace, that we're quite content to let them do it. Plus, they feel a sense of responsibility and duty to the Confederation. They want to make restitution to those they once preyed upon. We merely ... direct them. After all, we each have our little role to play in society."

B'Elanna glanced at her spouse and then at the guide. "But some people still get nervous around them, don't they?" she asked, as if having finally found an answer to something that had been bothering her for quite some time. "There's something there, some awareness of what they really are."

Jiidan looked thoughtful. "Perhaps," he allowed slowly, as if he had never before considered it. "After all, take away the veneer of civilization and the basic instincts remain, Commander Torres, no matter how far any of us evolve technically or socially."

"Elthanians subconsciously evaluate others in terms of prey, even if they don't intend to act on it," Kes offered thoughtfully. "Meanwhile, those being evaluated somehow sense it on a primitive level and react accordingly. They become uncomfortable, even when they're not sure why."

"I did not become uncomfortable in any of my encounters," Seven noted, looking at the others in bemusement.

"That's because Jade didn't want to eat you," B'Elanna told her, and then added in a soft mutter, "At least, not like that."

Janeway shot a look at the engineer, making her subside. "I have to agree with my science officer," she said quickly, hoping to cover over B'Elanna's inappropriate remark though Jiidan did not appear to have noticed it. "I've never felt uneasy around them either." Yet, even as she said it, she remembered that moment at the diplomatic soiree while confronting Tazna Jade, struck by a sense that the Elthanian had been about to pounce on her. It had passed so quickly, she thought she had imagined it.

"Perhaps because you were regarded by those you met as another predator by virtue of your rank and power, Captain," Jiidan noted easily. "Also, you've only dealt with the most sophisticated of our society, the Speakers, the senior StarScout officers, the Council members ... individuals who are exceedingly comfortable interacting with other species."

"While the rest of the crew hung out with the ordinary people while building the array," Ro said thoughtfully. "The ship's crew and station personnel, the civilians populating Hearthstone..."

"Unskilled in diplomacy," Jiidan agreed with the Bajoran. "Evolved but with a less developed sense of how others can perceive them. They were probably unaware that they were subconsciously sizing you up for the grill." He scraped the last of his pasta from his plate and beamed hopefully at the captain.

"Is there any dessert?"

"Cannibals. They're cannibals, for God's sake!"

Seven thought her spouse was somewhat disproportionately disconcerted at the revelations from dinner. She watched curiously as the captain paced about their quarters, agitation radiating from every line of her compact body.

"And I made an alliance with them," Janeway muttered, as if she still couldn't believe it. "As a matter of fact, I made damned sure the array was located in their sector of space."

"Jiidan indicated that their preying on other species was a matter of ancient history," Seven pointed out, leaning back on the sofa as she waited for the captain to settle down. "Certainly, if what a species did hundreds of years earlier is a prerequisite of making alliances, then it is unlikely any would be made, particularly involving Humans." She paused. "Why does this upset you so, Kathryn?"

Janeway stopped, staring at her spouse. "They're cannibals, Seven," she repeated, and as Seven started to respond, she stopped her with a raised finger. "And don't say the term doesn't apply because they preyed on other species. That's splitting hairs. They ate people."

Seven exhaled audibly. "It is all semantics, Kathryn. There are many instances of cannibalism in Human history. Literal cannibalism."

"Not once we achieved space travel!"

Seven lifted a brow. "The UFP Ytrap Rennod lost their warp engines and main power in 2133. By the time they were rescued, only five survived, and it was because they had consumed the remains of their companions. The Famine of Setnus III in 2234, a Human colony forced to..."

"All right," Janeway said, stopping Seven before she could really get started on the litany that included forty-three more incidents involving Humans from various ships and colonies, including a few where survival was not the motivating factor. Beyond that, Seven would have to examine the Federation database to add to the ones she knew off the top of her head. "I get the point."

"I fail to see why the Elthania have suddenly become so repugnant, Kathryn," Seven said. "Is killing for food somehow worse than killing for an esoteric ideal, or covetousness for another's possessions?"

Janeway shot her a look, the same one she used whenever Seven had overwhelmed her arguments with solid facts that she simply couldn't refute. It was a combination of annoyance and childlike resentment, an expression that never failed to amuse the Borg.

"Personally," Seven continued, starting to enjoy herself at this point, "if it were necessary that I die from violent means, I would much prefer my death be an issue of survival for the other person, than a result of merely being in the way of someone's greed or because I happen to be Borg."

Janeway stared at her, hands on her hips, jaw stuck out pugnaciously. "I suppose you think you're being really clever."

Seven, for whom that was evident, didn't respond. She merely smiled faintly in the way she knew infuriated her spouse the most. Janeway held the look for a moment, the muscle in her jaw twitching visibly, and then turned away, a reluctant grin edging the corners of her mouth.

"Fine," she grumbled. "But it's still going to be hard to explain this to Starfleet Command."

"I am surprised you are not more concerned with the Soularri," Seven noted dryly.

Janeway turned her head quickly. "Why?"

"They must be a formidable species if they could not only stop the Elthania, but essentially ... domesticate them." Seven tasted the word carefully, examining why she had settled on that one in particular. Yet, it seemed appropriate. "At the moment, the Elthanians serve them." She paused, a sudden thought striking her of Tazna's Jade's expression during the array negotiations. "Not happily in many cases."

"According to everyone I've talked to, there is an equal representation of many species on the council, Seven. The only reason the negotiating team was made up of Elthanians was because we were in the Elthanian sector."

"Indeed." Seven considered what she had heard at dinner. She did not agree, but she did not care to pursue the argument. "Perhaps you are correct."

Janeway eyed her narrowly for a moment and finally nodded. "I'll keep an eye on our ambassador," she allowed quietly. "Obviously, things aren't necessarily as they appear to be in the Confederation."

"That is frequently the case with alien civilizations, Kathryn." Seven sighed as another thought struck her. "The nebula is well within Raelien space. Apparently, we shall not have the opportunity to study it as I had hoped."

"I'm sorry, darling," Janeway offered, sounding honestly contrite. "They do seem very territorial. I don't think we'll able to pass close enough to take anything but more long-range sensor readings. That's probably why the Confederation doesn't have much information on it."

Seven managed a bit of a philosophical shrug. "There will be other anomalies."

"I really wanted to give you that nebula."

Seven tilted her head. "I know, Kathryn."

A smile softened the captain's classic features as she regarded her spouse. "Dinner was fabulous, darling," she said in a gentler tone. "You simply outdid yourself. I know I probably shouldn't be using you as a caterer..."

"I did not mind, Kathryn," Seven assured her. "It was an intriguing challenge to create a meal for so many who included several alien palates. I am familiar with B'Elanna and Ro, of course, but I was uncertain my selection would appeal equally to Jiidan as it did to Dr. Pulaski and Kes."

"You succeeded admirably, darling," Janeway told her. She drifted over to the sofa, taking a seat next to her spouse as she placed her hand high on Seven's thigh. "I'm very proud of you."

Seven glanced at her. "Thank you." She lifted a brow as the captain's hand moved higher on her leg, creeping inexorably close to the juncture of her uniform trousers. "Kathryn?"

Janeway leaned against her, her gaze altering into something a little more sensual. "I was just thinking of last night and how we were so cruelly interrupted by that red alert."

The fleshy side of the captain's hand suddenly pressed against Seven, the warmth penetrating through the layers of clothing. Without changing expression, Seven parted her legs slightly, affording her spouse easier access, and Janeway did not hesitate in taking advantage of the gesture, rubbing the Borg's inner thigh lightly.

"Are you not afraid we will be interrupted again?" Seven asked quietly, looking into the eyes that were more blue than grey.

"Oh, I don't think Kelly would dare," Janeway told her as she regarded the Borg with a lidded expression. "Not after the blasting I gave her." She turned her hand so that the palm and fingers were cupping Seven intimately. "Let's call it an evening, shall we?"

Seven lifted a brow, ostensibly ignoring the captain's hands that were fondling her provocatively through her uniform trousers. "It is still quite early, Kathryn."

Janeway smiled, recognizing the game immediately. "You're such a tease, darling," she muttered, her voice dropping to a delightfully throaty trill.

Seven swallowed as the cloying chills shot up and down her nerve endings. "I believe you like it when I tease you."

"Oh, I do," Janeway agreed quietly. "But I also like it when you're on the bed, all open and wet and waiting for me."

Seven caught her breath at the image that inspired. "Is that what you want, Kathryn?"

Janeway leaned closer, her breath hot in the Borg's ear. "I want you," she murmured. "I want to lie you down and spread your legs so that I can see every millimeter of what only I'm allowed to touch and taste. I want to bury my face in your heat and feast on you until you can't do anything but scream. And as you do, I want you to put your right hand on the back of my head to hold me in place, while you use your left hand to toss the damn headboard right across the room."

Seven caught her breath, easily imagining such a scenario, except, of course, where the bed's headboard was concerned. The artfully designed piece of furniture, which included a handy gripping bar, a mirror covering the door of a small medical instrument sterilizer, and several compartments to hold various accessories, had been melded into the ship's hull so firmly that it defied even the Borg's significant strength. It had taken several 'christenings' while the ship had still been in dry dock to make sure their bed would be strong enough to withstand whatever use the couple put it through.

Seven wasn't sure which engineering officer had been in charge of that particular design implementation during the ship's construction phase, unless it had been Janeway herself. While commanding the Utopia Planitia shipyards, all the Starfleet personnel there had learned to respect the compact little redhead considerably for her engineering skills. She was never afraid to toss aside her tunic and roll up her sweater sleeves when the job demanded it. It wouldn't have surprised Seven in the slightest to know that Janeway had been the one in that bedroom with a spanner and a laser drill, cursing liberally as she performed the necessary installation all on her own.

Seven slipped her arm around the captain's shoulders and drew her close, bending her head to cover her mouth with her own. The kiss went on for some time, a warm, wonderful kiss that was almost intoxicating in its intensity. The captain's respiration was considerably accelerated by the time they parted.

"Let's go to bed," she requested huskily as she rose from the couch.

Seven accepted the hand her spouse offered, allowing the captain to pull her up, and they strolled into the bedroom, arms around each other, Janeway's head tilted slightly to rest on Seven's shoulder. Her hand slid down and cupped the Borg's buttock, squeezing lightly as they walked.

"You know, I rather miss your biometric outfits," she said with a touch of wistfulness as they paused next to the bed.

Seven looked down into her warm gaze. "Indeed," she said, amused. "Would you like me to replicate one and wear it about our quarters?"

Janeway's eyes brightened. "Would you?"

Seven laughed softly and pulled her partner close. "One day," she promised. "When you least expect it, you shall come home and find me wearing it."

Janeway kissed her. "I look forward to it."

Seven kissed her back, her hands moving over the captain, freeing her from her uniform even as Janeway undressed her. A word to the computer brought down the lights, and as an added treat, the couple had a musical selection activated, romantic songs surrounding them as they sank to the bed in each others arms, bodies pressed together in heated intent. Seven paid particular attention to pleasing the captain this evening, aware of how frustrated she had been the night before. Janeway was equally attentive, her hands and mouth doing the most wonderful things to the Borg who, as it turned out, was unable to cause any damage to the headboard, but not through lack of trying on either woman's part.

Afterward, the music terminated, lying in the warm darkness in sleepy satisfaction, Seven wished she could express how perfect these moments with her beloved spouse truly were to her. Wished she could find the proper phrases to convey how she really felt about the individual lying next to her. Words were so inadequate. Sometimes, even physical gestures were insufficient. All she could do was hold the captain close and blink back the tears that stung her eyes, her body knowing no other way to express the deep emotion filling her.

Janeway lifted her head, looking at her spouse with concern in the dim illumination. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Seven said, closing her eyes. She felt the moisture leak past them, slipping down her cheeks. "I just love you so much at times."

"Oh." Janeway smiled faintly and brushed Seven's cheeks with her lips, kissing the tiny tears away. "I know only too well how that feels. It's too much sometimes, isn't it?"

Seven managed a smile, tremulous though it was. "It is never too much, Kathryn," she corrected softly. "It is always just enough."

Janeway chuckled and kissed her lips, lingering over them. "I love you, too, my darling," she murmured. "Without you, I shudder to think what kind of sad, lonely, pathetic individual I would be."

Seven nuzzled her. "You would never be pathetic, Kathryn," she assured her.

"Don't be so sure," Janeway said and kissed her again.

Desire stirring, they moved together a second time, hands moving over each other in a slow, easy tempo, building each other's desire with delicate familiarity. It appeared to be one of those evenings where sleep was much less important than showing each other how they felt and sharing an intimacy that served to free them, even as it bound them more tightly together.

No, Seven decided happily as she responded to the sensation rippling through her, she could never love Kathryn too much. It was simply impossible.

Kelly looked up from the padd she had been studying and rubbed her eyes, feeling the strain of reading so much in such a short time. There was just so much to cover, and she hadn't done herself any favors with an ill-advised attempt at going through a transition jump unmedicated. That had set her back four days, and now she was scrambling to catch up on the personnel files in hopes that it would give her some sense of what was going on around her.

The basic workings of the ship were actually quite easy. Everything was larger, of course, and the priorities were different, scientific rather than militaristic, but a helm was still a helm, ops was still ops, a weapons array was still a weapons array. She knew her way around the technology. Even the chain of command was the same. It was the individuals within that chain of command who continued to baffle and confuse her, particularly her commanding officer.

She took a break, leaning back in her chair as she glanced around her office. It contained a desk and a few chairs, but nothing of a personal nature. She thought of how the captain's ready room was decorated, subdued yet graceful. Personal images of Janeway with various Starfleet dignitaries, and what must be members of her family, hung on the bulkheads, while various scientific antiquities were scattered about the shelves. Fresh flowers from hydroponics, usually roses, garnished her desk next to the computer console. The colors were a combination of silver and blue, with the occasional splash of red or yellow, restful yet dignified. Stepping into it, one knew immediately that the office was a reflection of a captain who enjoyed elegance and refinement.

Kelly hadn't brought along any personal mementos from her time on Grissom, nor was she the sort to collect them. She and her family didn't stay in touch, not because of any type of estrangement, but rather because of a general lack of interest on both sides. Her office reflected nothing but the basic requirements of the job. Even if she were the sort to want to leave a mark, what would she do for decoration? Her favorite phaser rifle fastened to the wall like a trophy? A picture of all her ex-crewmates, with a little notation next to those faces who were no longer alive?

The chime of her door admittance made her blink, and she straightened abruptly, relieved at the interruption of thoughts that were becoming too dark and dreary for even this Black Irish lass.

"Come."

Ro Laren's slender form appeared in the doorway, and without waiting for an invitation, she slipped into the room and took a seat in the chair opposite the desk. "I'm not interrupting, am I, Commander?"

Kelly spread her hands. "Not at all, Laren. I'm actually glad to see you. I was wondering if we could schedule another workout together. The run through the holodeck has made it clear that I'm woefully out of shape."

"I'm free after my duty shift. 1800?" After Kelly's nod of acceptance, Ro offered a padd. "The security roster for the next rotation. I also have a list of the people I want to cover the first few away missions."

Kelly felt the weight descend on her shoulders again. Away missions? She hadn't even thought of those, but there were sure to be plenty of a primarily scientific bent in the days ahead. She would even probably be expected to lead them. A sick feeling floated in her stomach. Jumping into the unknown was a good way to get killed, and a good soldier knew when to avoid trouble. Of course, Janeway would probably just order her to do it.

She exhaled audibly. "I think I'm going to be relying on you a little longer, Laren," she admitted. "Particularly when it comes to assigning personnel to away missions."

Ro shrugged. "Understandable," she said shortly. Kelly appreciated that the tone was matter-of-fact, that the Bajoran didn't try to make her feel stupid for her lack of knowledge. "I know these people. So do the rest of the department heads. When they recommend personnel, you can be sure they're going with the best people for the job. No one's going to try to screw you up, Kiara."

"Except the captain," Kelly said without thinking. She winced and looked up to meet the dark eyes of the Bajoran. "I shouldn't have said that."

Ro tilted her head slightly, her gaze curious rather than judgmental. "What's your problem with Janeway?" The way she asked, a request for information rather than an accusation, allowed Kelly to loosen the bonds of her tongue.

"She reminds me of my first commanding officer," Kelly admitted. "Captain Felicity Cartwright."

Ro's eyes grew lidded. "Cartwright of the USS Thomas Paine, an New Orleans-class vessel," she identified. "She attended the Academy with Janeway."

Kelly wondered how she knew that. "It wouldn't surprise me," she said with a touch of bitterness. "They're cut from the same cloth. Starfleet brats with admirals for daddies. I remember seeing Cartwright rip into an ensign in the mess hall for not standing when she entered. He didn't even see her. His back was to the door. She loved rules and protocol, and if anyone dared go outside them, even a little, she came down hard."

Ro didn't respond, merely looking politely attentive. Kelly hesitated, wondering if she could share her misgivings with the security chief. It was possible that Ro could offer some insight, some kind of reassurance that she wasn't dealing with the same thing in Janeway.

"Cartwright took the Paine up against a squad of Jem'Hadar fighters near the demilitarized zone," Kelly explained tersely. "I was an ensign, on my first assignment. I wasn't on the bridge, but the logs later revealed that she took the ship in with no sense of tactics or comprehension of what she was facing. She didn't wait for backup, nor did she try to retreat when it was clear she was outgunned. Later, I found that she had been appointed the ship on the basis of her relationship with Admiral Wallace, an old friend of her father's. She shouldn't have been there, and she sure as hell shouldn't have allowed so many of her crew to die because she had some image of being a hero and winning the war all on her own."

Kelly was unaware that her voice had become flat, that her eyes had grown cold and distant, the memories replaying in her mind as clearly as if they had only happened yesterday. She could almost smell the acrid smoke from burning insulation, and the coppery odor of blood as the screams of injured echoed in her ears. She remembered the taste of fear in her mouth, the acid flavor of bile as twisted bodies, burnt and blown apart, floated in her mind's eye.

"The ship's security chief, Lt. Brassure, got a group of us to the bridge during a lull in the battle. The ship was in really bad shape, hull breeches on four of the decks, warp power off line, the engine room venting plasma. Somehow, he found a way to restore main power and managed to hide us in the shadow of the sun's corona until the Jem'Hadar up and left. We nearly roasted, but we made it. Victor Torn, the first officer, survived, but he was in sickbay. He ordered us to go after them and resume the battle. He was as bad as Cartwright, so damned anxious to get us all killed ... or maybe he was just afraid of what would happen when Starfleet found out what had happened with the captain. The doc declared him unfit for command, Brassure defied the orders and somehow managed to get us back to Deep Space Three. The exec was shipped out on a medical disability. Brassure was promoted to first officer, and we went back out with a new captain ... and replacements for sixty-three percent of the crew."

Ro lifted a brow. "That must have been tough introduction to Starfleet."

"It was a hard lesson," Kelly said flatly. "But a good one. Rules and protocols only work for so long, and then you'd better know who to follow if you want to get out alive."

"So I see."

Kelly swallowed. "From what I can tell, Janeway hasn't learned that lesson."

Ro laughed softly, almost mockingly. "Oh, she's learned that lesson, Commander, more times than you can imagine."

As much as she respected the security chief, Kelly didn't think she could agree. "I don't know, Laren. From what I heard, she got Voyager because of her dad's friendship with Admiral Patterson. It was a political appointment all the way. He even gave her a personal tour of the ship when it was time to hand it over."

Ro hesitated. "I'm not in the position to comment on that. I didn't know the captain then."

Kelly shook her head. "The latest rumor is that she only got Millennium because she's one of Nechayev's favorites."

Ro lifted a brow. "Well, she did have an arrangement with Nechayev," she admitted. "But that isn't the whole story." She paused. "Unfortunately, I don't know that I have the authorization to tell you the whole story. That's up to the captain."

Kelly studied her hands lying limply on the desk. "Laren, I've come to respect you a lot in the short time I've known you. I can't believe you would willingly serve a captain who's incompetent."

"I wouldn't." Ro's tone was one of absolute certainty.

Kelly spread her hands. "But what am I supposed to think when people on the lower decks tell me that she let three people die during your last mission because protocol wouldn't allow her to abort it. I can't deny that she's an excellent diplomat after what I saw on Hearthstone, but Cartwright was also a hell of a talker. What happens when there's a fight? Janeway has no history in the Dominion War for me to know what kind of military commander she is, and what I saw on the bridge with the Raeliens frankly scared me. She was lucky they didn't blow us out of the sky."

Ro frowned slightly. "Their technology wasn't at a level to hurt us."

"They might have been disguising it. The Breen are great for masking their warp signature until it's too late. What happens the next time we encounter an aggressive ship?"

"She'll handle it," Ro said. She paused. "Have you gone over Voyager's mission logs?"

Kelly rubbed her eyes wearily. "I've barely had time to go through the personnel files and the logs from Millennium's first year."

"Fair enough." Ro looked thoughtful. "Kiara, I can't tell you what makes Janeway a great captain. That's something you're going to figure out in the process. But she does demand a lot from her crew, and part of that is a strict adherence to protocol."

"Even when the rules are stupid?"

"If Starfleet made those rules, then Janeway expects them to be followed," Ro said with a shrug. "Any exceptions better have a damned good reason behind them."

"That's not my style."

Ro smiled faintly. "I understand that, but what works on the frontier isn't going to fly with Janeway. That's all there is to it. You can piss and moan all you want, but at the end of the day, she's the captain, like it or not."

"I don't like it."

Kelly saw something cross the Bajoran's eyes, something dangerous, and she took a quick breath, realizing she had gone a bit too far. "That doesn't mean I'm going to cause any trouble or stir up a mutiny or anything," she added hastily. "I'm still a Starfleet officer."

Ro didn't change expression. "Good to know," she said mildly.

Kelly leaned back in her chair, attempting to ease the moment. "Starfleet seems to think I can learn a lot from her."

Ro nodded. "I have." She shook her head slightly. "I never thought I'd be wearing this uniform again. She had faith in me when a lot of people didn't."

Kelly suddenly understood the source of the Bajoran's loyalty, realizing that somewhere along the way, Janeway had granted the security officer an opportunity, had reached out a hand when it seemed that everyone else's was turned against her. That was a powerful bond, but it didn't necessarily mean anything other than the fact that Janeway recognized good people when she saw them. Kelly already knew that, simply from the quality of the senior staff. While Starfleet was hurting for personnel, Janeway had somehow lured an admiral out of retirement to serve as her CMO, and convinced a member of Leah Brahm's Theoretical Propulsion Group to act as her science officer.

Yes, Janeway was a hell of a talker. But could she handle herself in a firefight?

Ro seemed to read the thoughts crossing the first officer's mind and offered a dry smile. "Kiara, I've served with Picard on the flagship. He offered me a place on his bridge, but I'd rather be here. That ought to tell you something."

Kelly frowned. "It does, but I'm not sure what."

Ro sighed. "Then give it time," she suggested. "Do your job, stop listening to rumors on the lower decks and learn to know Janeway for who she really is."

Kelly nodded. "I'll try."

Ro stood up and turned to leave. At the door, she paused and looked back at Kelly. "One more thing."

"Yes?"

"You're the first officer. Other than the captain, you rank me and everyone else on this ship. That doesn't mean you can't make friends, but you have a responsibility that is greater than anyone else could understand. You're supposed to be Janeway's right hand, not trying to stick a knife in her back. If push comes to shove, no one's going to be on your side."

"Including you?"

"I'll be the one who'll have to take you down." Ro's voice was flat and unyielding. Her eyes were worse.

Kelly lifted her chin, her jaw firming. "Believe it or not, I understand that, Commander."

Ro nodded briefly. "As long as you do."

The door slid shut behind her, leaving Kelly alone in the office, her thoughts as cold and sharp as the stars outside the viewport lining the hull.

Janeway filled her cup with steaming hot coffee from the silver thermos, and sealed the container to keep the remainder hot. She settled back on the sofa and picked up the mug, sipping it slowly as she regarded the Bajoran sitting across from her.

"Anything to report?"

"Permission to speak freely?"

"Of course."

Ro lifted the corner of her mouth slightly. "Commander Kelly thinks you're one of those officers who gained command through politics rather than merit. There were a few of them floating around prior to the war. Because of your father's ties within Starfleet Command, she believes that your road was smoothed by the direct intervention of his associates."

Janeway spent a few seconds concentrating on her breathing, forcing back the surge of anger that blasted through her. It didn't help that a similar opinion had been held by Nechayev prior to Janeway's return to the Alpha Quadrant. Until her confrontation with the admiral in the conference room at Starfleet Command, Janeway hadn't realized what people had thought of her rise through the ranks, when they thought about it at all. It was only her development during the seven years in the Delta Quadrant that had caused Nechayev to soften her stance and take a chance on the starship captain. Janeway wondered if she was so angry at Kelly's assessment because it wasn't true, or because a tiny part of her feared that it was.

"Does she, now?"

"She also thinks that if you didn't come from a Starfleet family, with an admiral for a daddy, you never would have been awarded Voyager for your first command. Millennium was a gift from Nechayev, pure patronage all the way."

Janeway wondered if rising blood pressure could actually make a head explode. Certainly, it felt as if the blood thundering at her temples just might burst through the thin capillary walls and decorate her ready room with sprays of bright crimson. She eyed the Bajoran, sensing that Ro was just a little too amused in delivering the information regarding Commander Kelly. After all, it wasn't every day that an officer could offer her captain a series of insults in the form of a report.

"She also thinks that when it comes to regulations, you have such a large stick up your..."

"I get the point, Commander," Janeway interrupted. "Kelly doesn't like me."

"Not one little bit." Ro lay the padd on the coffee table and regarded the captain steadily. "Your current reputation in Starfleet is countered, in her eyes, by the fact that you weren't around for the war. She seems to thinks Voyager was out wandering around the Delta Quadrant as an excuse to stay far away from the threat of the Dominion." Ro paused. "To be fair, Captain, a lot of people don't understand what it was like for us out there."

Janeway nodded. "True," she said. "Nonetheless..."

"Nonetheless, Kelly should be dealing with what she sees and hears now, not what she's concluded from speculation and second hand reports," Ro finished for her. The Bajoran tilted her head and offered the next in an extremely careful tone. "It's possible that what she's encountered so far hasn't done much to change her mind."

"Meaning?"

"Well, to be perfectly honest, Captain, you can come across as pretty cold and inflexible at times," Ro said gently. "Particularly when it comes to protocol."

Janeway considered the comment. She was proud of her reputation as a stickler for rules, but aware that it made some people, particularly in the lower ranks, view her as a bit of a hardass. She couldn't explain to everyone that part of the reason she maintained such a firm line with minor protocols was due to the fact that she knew inevitably, she, or someone else, would be forced to violate a large one under unusual circumstances. It had happened time after time on Voyager, and that command behavior had carried over onto Millennium. However, she allowed that it might appear uncompromising to a person unfamiliar with the reasons behind it.

She glanced at Ro, studying the dark eyes. "Is that how you see me?"

Ro was silent for a moment, undoubtedly seeking the right words with which to respond. "When I first came on board Voyager, I was horrified," she said finally, "I saw you as someone who was so rigid that a journey of seventy years back to the Alpha Quadrant was going to be pure hell. It was especially hard on those from the Maquis. I don't think a lot of people on the lower decks understood why our superior officers, acting on your authority, came down so hard on what were relatively minor infractions while we adapted to your style of command."

Janeway inhaled slowly. "And now?"

Ro's expression grew thoughtful. "Now, I understand why you, and captains like Picard, are so intent on the details, on staying so close to the letter of the law. If an officer gains a reputation for violating the rules, for defying superiors and being a rebel, then when it really counts, there's nothing there to trust on either side."

"Exactly." Janeway felt a sense of relief that the Bajoran understood. "There's a time in every officer's life when you'll have to disobey orders, or go against the regulations laid down by Starfleet. When that time comes, the only thing that will save you is the knowledge that in every other area, you went strictly by-the-book."

Ro laughed, a short bark of amusement. "It took me too long to figure that out. I never operated that way." She paused. "That's why I ended up in trouble so many times."

"And Kelly?"

Ro shook her head slightly. "I don't think she respects the book very much, Captain," she explained slowly. "I think she learned it from superior officers, seeing only that the rule was broken, but not necessarily all the reasons why." She shifted in her chair. "Furthermore, I think that during the Dominion War, she had to think outside the box too many times just to stay alive, while those officers around her who didn't know when and how to change the rules, ended up dead. It becomes a very simple lesson in that situation, Captain."

Janeway nodded. "Yes, it does. Follow the rules and die. Do whatever it takes to survive, and you'll end in command. Brutal, efficient, and unfortunately for Kelly, not at all how Starfleet operates while not in the middle of a war." She took another sip of coffee. "Unfortunately, I'm not about to loosen up my standards just to prove something to my first officer."

Ro smiled faintly. "I'm sure if we all just wait a little while, you'll do something reckless and offer her insight into how your mind really works, Captain."

Janeway shot her a sharp look, astonished that the Bajoran had unbent enough to joke with her captain, but somewhat gratified by it as well. Tuvok had teased her about her occasional recklessness as well, and it was apparent that Ro had picked up on it. Come the end of this mission, she vowed silently, she was going to lobby hard to have the Bajoran appointed Millennium's new exec. She was tired of taking on Starfleet's problem children just so Nechayev could position another one of her protegees as a captain somewhere in the fleet.

"Until then, do you have any suggestions on how I need to handle Kelly?"

Ro shrugged lightly. "Maybe you should just give it a little more time, Captain. After all, Kelly still has a lot to learn about being on Millennium, and during the course of that education, she'll probably figure out she was completely wrong about you all on her own."

Janeway considered it. "A more effective lesson than if anyone tries to tell her?"

"Exactly," Ro agreed. "When she finally offers you the respect you deserve, you'll know that it's honest and completely sincere, not simply something dictated by rank."

Janeway eyed her. "Like yours, you mean?"

Ro flushed faintly, but a smile touched her lips. "Something like that," she admitted somewhat shyly.

Janeway was charmed by the expression on the security officer's face, and resisted the urge to chuckle. She enjoyed keeping Ro off balance. She took another sip of coffee. "I understand you took Kelly on a training run in the holodeck." She paused. "Utilizing a Voyager scenario."

Ro looked amused. "It was a revelation for her. Don't get me wrong; the Jem'Hadar, the Breen, and the Cardassians are as dangerous as they come, but they're a very familiar threat to Kelly. She's become almost complacent about them in a way. I just reminded her that it's a really big universe, and threats come in all forms." She quirked a brow. "I haven't even introduced her to the best ones yet. We just played with the macrovirus."

Despite herself, Janeway laughed. She suspected she probably shouldn't be so amused at how Ro was manipulating Kelly, but she was beginning to comprehend what a disadvantage the new officer was working under. That knowledge would help the captain to know when to maintain a hard line with her, as she had since Kelly had reported for duty, and when it was time to lighten up a little. Seven was right. Janeway needed to understand the first officer, not simply demand that she come around to her way of thinking. There would always be time later to crack down on Kelly if Ro's method of education didn't immediately bear fruit.

"Continue your role as her confidante, Laren," she instructed.

"I would in any event," the Bajoran said lightly. "I like her." She paused. "She reminds me a lot of how I used to be, only with the rank to get away with it."

"Ah," Janeway responded, thinking about that. "Then I'm glad I encountered you after some of the rough edges had been smoothed over."

Ro actually chuckled a bit. "So am I."

Janeway thought about how far they had come, how much they had overcome in their relationship, not only as captain and crewmember, but on a personal level, thrown together through the special friendship of their respective spouses. She was particularly glad that, finally, it appeared they had moved past the unfortunate incident involving the Orion Syndicate and Section 31. It was a situation that had tested that developing bond to the breaking point. Ro was still a subordinate, but Janeway had learned to trust her, to accept her counsel as she had Tuvok's and Chakotay's. She didn't have a lot of female friends, for whatever reason, and the Bajoran was proving to be the kind that could counted on to stand by her no matter what.

She was certainly the only one Janeway trusted to watch over Seven when the captain couldn't. "We never did get to go for dinner at Hearthstone," she remarked.

Ro looked rueful. "I know. The negotiations kept us running around a lot." She paused. "What did you think about the insights offered by Jiidan regarding the Confederation and their role in it?"

Janeway lifted her chin, setting her coffee cup down. "They were intriguing," she responded shortly, trying not to think about the tantrum she threw in her quarters after discovering the Elthanians less than appealing history. "It changes my perception somewhat."

"The Soularri are manipulators," Ro offered. "They lurk in the background, pulling the Elthanian strings, but when it's really important, they reveal themselves as the ones in charge."

"It would seem that way," Janeway disagreed. "But actions can sometimes speak louder than words."

Ro looked interested. "The Elthanians I saw appeared to defer to the Soularri."

Janeway nodded. "Maybe," she allowed. "Or maybe it merely looked that way. On another level, they didn't go out of their way to make the Soularri comfortable."

"Perhaps that was at the request of the Soularri, or some kind of cultural custom."

"Perhaps." Janeway thought about it. "Seven is suspicious of the Soularri, beyond her customary Borg wariness."

Ro absorbed that. "Maybe somebody got to her."

Janeway blinked, surprised. "Who?"

"Tazna Jade."

Janeway forced herself not to react to that, maintaining her calm expression. It irked her to know that just hearing the name caused such strong emotion to rise within her. "Why?"

"Humans and Vulcans, Captain."

Janeway blinked. "You've lost me."

"When Humans first ventured out into the Alpha Quadrant, Vulcans held the experience and the technological advantage. From my study of that period of history, it was clear that there was friction on many levels. Humans as a whole didn't necessarily take to that cold logic and structured society. Meanwhile, Vulcans weren't above reminding Humans how their unrestrained emotions had caused so much bloodshed in their past."

Janeway would never have taken Ro as a history buff, particularly of early Federation history, but then, there was a lot about the Bajoran that she didn't know. It made dealing with her a fascinating experience, peeling off a layer unexpectedly to discover several more lay beneath, all as complex as the one that had just been revealed.

"You're saying that while the Elthanians may sincerely regret their past, they might become a little tired of being constantly reminded of it." Janeway pursed her lips. "The current generation may be far enough removed to resent being held responsible for the actions of their ancestors."

Ro quirked a brow. "They might also be getting tired of doing all the work when the Soularri appear to do little, yet still hold all the real authority."

"A political shift could be occurring. The Elthanians may be starting to assert themselves as the premier power in their culture. They're certainly positioned in the best areas of government to make such political changes."

"By the same token, the Soularri might not like being shoved aside," Ro added to the scenario they were building. "Now the Confederation has the beginnings of an alliance with the Federation, a large and complex civilization that may or may not bring a certain influence to bear on one species or the other."

Janeway rubbed her forehead, feeling the slight stirring of a headache coming on. "The Prime Directive prohibits interference."

"Hmm," Ro said, clearly unimpressed. "Just by being allies, certain influences are brought to bear by the Federation. That's just how it works. The Prime Directive has always been a guideline, not a hard and fast rule. That's not even taking into consideration other influences of which we're not always aware." She didn't have to say which influences she was thinking about. Section 31 came immediately to mind for both women as a matter of habit.

The Bajoran paused, her expression very serious. "Jiidan may have come along to do more than merely observe."

Seven glanced up from her meal preparation as the captain entered her quarters. Janeway appeared preoccupied, going into the arboretum without so much as offering a greeting to her spouse, leaving the Borg wondered if the captain had experienced yet another stressful encounter with the ship's first officer. Seven activated her enhanced hearing and detected the unmistakable sounds of the captain undressing, and then water sloshing against the sides of the hot tub beneath the apple trees, followed immediately by a low, heartfelt groan of relief.

Whatever it was, Seven decided grimly, it had caused the captain to require the soothing haven of hot water. She decided to delay dinner. Depending on how long Janeway required to settle her mind, it was possible the Borg might end up eating alone.

After setting aside the sliced vegetables and placing them under a stasis wrap, Seven poured two glasses of red wine and carried them into the arboretum where the air was heavy with the scent of flowers. Janeway's eyes were closed as she reclined against the side of the tub, basking in the bubbling waters. The Borg placed the glasses on a nearby shelf, artfully included in the rock formation, and slipped out of her uniform, leaving it crumpled on the stone bench beside the captain's.

Janeway's eyes flew open as Seven joined her, and she accepted the glass of wine with a small smile. "Thank you, darling." She shifted slightly so that the Borg had more room. The hot tub was much smaller than the one at their previous home in San Francisco, and with two people utilizing it at the same time, it took a certain amount of adjustment to position themselves comfortably.

Seven settled back on the seat, enjoying the relaxing properties of the water. It certainly did wonders for the captain's mood. She smiled as she felt Janeway's big toe stroke the back of her calf gently, a casual caress rather than an invitation.

"Do you wish to discuss it, Kathryn?"

Janeway sipped her wine, peering over the brim of her glass intently. "Discuss what?"

"Whatever has caused you to come here before taking the time to eat dinner ... or greet me properly."

The captain offered an apologetic look. "Sorry, love."

"What is bothering you?" Seven insisted.

Janeway rested her arms along the sides of the tub, the wine glass dangling somewhat precariously from her fingers. A muscle twitched briefly in her jaw. "Did you happen to have a talk with Tazna Jade before we left the Confederation? A conversation that you may have neglected to share with me?"

Seven lifted a brow. "Any such conversation between myself and the Intendant would be personal and none of your concern, Kathryn."

Janeway's eyes flickered briefly, absorbing the comment. "I suppose I deserved that after all that's happened."

Seven inhaled slowly and decided she had defined their respective parameters enough for one day. "What causes you to inquire, Kathryn?"

Janeway shrugged briefly, a motion that sent ripples across the surface of the water, the tiny waves lapping against Seven's chest. "Something Ro and I were discussing this afternoon." She paused. "Do you know something about the relationship between the Elthanians and the Soularri?"

Seven exhaled slowly. "No more than you," she admitted. She paused. "I did speak with Jade during the construction of the array as I gave the Intendant a brief tour of the facilities."

"And?"

Seven shook her head. "There was nothing of substance, Kathryn. We made our peace with each other, and before she left, she offered a ... warning of sorts."

"Warning?"

"Jade instructed me not to trust Minister Jiidan or the Soularri," Seven said. "However, she did not give me any reasoning behind her advice, nor have I been able to determine why she felt I required such instructions."

Janeway thought about it. "Do you remember ever seeing a Soularri prior to our official introduction to them?"

Seven shook her head. "No, but from what I have determined, the Soularri prefer to remain on their home worlds as much as possible. It is the Elthanians who enjoy space travel and encountering new species."

"Undoubtedly to add to their menu," Janeway noted dryly. At the Borg's look, she pursed her lips but didn't look entirely regretful of the statement. "There's clearly a tension between the two species, either newly developed or having existed all along, which wasn't identified when we initially encountered them."

Seven nodded. "That is my conclusion, as well."

"Ro thinks that Jiidan may be here to do more than merely observe. He might have come along as an ambassador in order to subtly influence us, and subsequently, the Federation, in favor of the Soularri should anything come of this 'tension'."

"A logical assessment."

Janeway sat in silence for a moment or two, a contemplative expression on her face. Seven waited patiently, content that the captain would share her thoughts when she was ready. In the meantime, she shifted so that a jet was directly in the center of her lower back, the soothing pulse against her spine doing wonders for her muscles. She definitely had to utilize the hot tub more, she decided.

"Jiidan's adorable," Janeway said finally. "I'm not being facetious, Seven. It's more than just a visual cue. There's a warmth permeating his personality, his body language, the way he responds to those around him. The longer I'm in his company, the fonder of him as a person I become. I don't think I'm the only one."

Seven tilted her head. "In contrast, while the Elthanians are attractive and charming, their history is horrific, and there may well be an instinctual predator/prey type of reaction after being exposed to their presence for extended periods of time."

Janeway leaned her head back, her eyes distant. "Do you think the Elthanians would draw on their history to subvert the Soularri?"

"A type of civil war? Violence remains present in many species, despite evolution." Seven lifted a brow. "However, the Soularri have not remained in power all this time due to their appealing appearance. They undoubtedly maintain some kind of technological advantage that the Elthanians have not been able to circumvent."

"In other words, the Elthanians might not be able to afford a war with the Soularri."

"Or have the inclination," Seven pointed out. "They are a peaceful people, Kathryn."

"Oh, really?" Janeway's expression was sardonic.

"As peaceful as Humans," Seven elaborated dryly.

That struck home, and Janeway winced slightly. "Touche."

"This struggle may be of a purely political nature," Seven said. "The Elthanians may have achieved some kind of advantage by having the ConFed Array located in their space, but that may have been countered by the Soularri negotiating for Jiidan to accompany us."

Janeway pursed her lips. "You could be right. In any event, it could also be out of our hands. The Federation diplomats will continue to negotiate with the Confederation via the array, while the Starfleet team we left behind has a mandate to study the culture closely. They'll be digging out the facts while we're currently operating with nothing but speculation. Let's leave it to them. It's our mission to expand our knowledge in the rest of the Beta Quadrant, not concern ourselves with the political infighting of a society we've left behind."

Janeway seemed satisfied with that decision, and Seven supposed she couldn't blame her for that. Not only was the captain unable to remain completely objective when it came to the Elthanians, thanks to the attraction of Tazna Jade for Seven, Janeway much preferred scientific pursuits to political ones. She would be happy to leave the whole problem behind for the Federation diplomats to handle. Seven just hoped Janeway would be able to remain apart from the situation, considering that Jiidan would be with them for the duration of their mission.

Janeway, who had been quietly observing the Borg, drew her toe along Seven's calf again, and this time, the invitation was explicit in her eyes as she sipped her wine. Seven smiled and leaned forward, pausing mere millimeters away from Janeway's lips. The captain purred and closed the distance between them, kissing the Borg tenderly. The kiss deepened, developing into something quite intriguing before a hail from the bridge interrupted it.

"Damn," Janeway muttered. "This is becoming a habit." She rose from the water and reached over to tap the comm badge on her tunic. "Go ahead."

"Captain, we're detecting a distress signal," Commander Kelly reported. "It appears to be originating from within Raelien space, inside the nebula. There's no response to our hails."

Janeway hesitated only a second. "Set a course to intercept," she instructed. "Have the senior staff report to the bridge. I'm on my way." She grabbed a towel from the ever-present pile on the bench and began to dry off.

Seven lifted a brow as she followed suit. "I thought we agreed to avoid Raelien space."

"A distress call can't be overlooked, Seven," Janeway said shortly as she pulled on her uniform. "It supercedes respecting the sovereignty of someone's territory."

Seven quickly followed her spouse out of the arboretum, unsure she agreed with Janeway's assessment, but aware that the captain did not require such agreement from the Borg or anyone else on the ship, not when it came to command tactics. At least they would have the opportunity to study the nebula at close range for the duration of the rescue if not any longer, Seven decided with a certain amount of cheer.

Ro, Nog and T'Shanik were already on the bridge when Janeway and Seven stepped off the turbolift. Kelly hastily gave way to the captain's arrival, taking her place at the first officer's station. "Report," Janeway demanded as she settled in her chair.

"We're still detecting the signal," Kelly said. "We entered Raelien space twenty seconds ago."

Seven ran the sensor logs through her board. "I am not detecting a vessel, Captain, only the signal that disappears into the nebula."

"What about other vessels?"

"No contact, Captain," Ro said, her narrow features intent on her tactical display. "At this range, the nebula is beginning to disrupt our sensors. The distress call is on a tight beam, scattered somewhat by its passage but maintaining enough integrity to offer a direction. Perhaps the Raeliens have developed technology to counter the nebula's effects."

"Or it could be a trap," Kelly murmured beside Seven.

"Or it could be a trap," Janeway agreed evenly, obviously hearing the words, though whether the first officer had meant the captain to or not wasn't evident to Seven. "Shields up. Yellow alert. Hail them again, T'Shanik."

"Aye, Captain." The Vulcan's tapered hands moved gracefully over her board. "Still no response. Only the signal repeating over and over, requesting assistance."

"Maintain course," Janeway instructed. "There has to be something on the other end of it." As the Millennium entered the nebula, the viewscreen fuzzed momentarily, and then cleared to reveal a backdrop of purplish gas, threaded through with pink and yellowish strands. No stars were visible through the dense particles of dust, and the ship slowed its advance, Nog powering down to impulse without requiring an order.

Janeway remained motionless in her chair. "Steady as she goes," she murmured quietly.

"Captain, the signal has scattered now that we're in the nebula," T'Shanik said. "I've lost it, unable to determine an origin."

"Maintain our initial heading," Janeway ordered. "Hopefully, we'll see them before we run into them."

Seven ran scan after scan utilizing all the sensors and refining the data stream as much as she dared without narrowing the range to the point where it would no longer be useful. Finally, there was blip, a brief fluctuation that another person, someone who wasn't Borg, might have overlooked.

"Captain, divert course three-two-point-seven," she said quietly. For some reason, the entire bridge crew had become silent, the only noise coming from the various consoles, soft beeps and chirps punctuating the ever present hum of the impulse engines.

"Do it," Janeway instructed the helm. The massive ship turned, and finally, there it was, a small cigar-shaped vessel drifting in the haze.

"Lifesigns?" At this distance, the crew of Millennium was able to concentrate all the sensors directly on the ship and get back clear, if somewhat weak, readings.

"Six lifesigns," Seven confirmed. "Erratic. There may be injuries."

"Still no response to our hails," T'Shanik offered.

Janeway firmed her jaw. "Commander, take an away team and get over there," she said. "Find out what's happening."

Before Kelly could respond, Ro lifted her head. "Captain, the nebula is also disrupting the transporters. We'll have to take a shuttle."

Janeway barely paused. "Take Lt. Paris in a delta flyer. You also better take Dr. Lewis along with you to deal with the injured."

Kelly blinked. "Sir? Dr. Lewis? Can he function on an away mission?"

Janeway stared at her blankly. "He has a mobile emitter, Commander, independent of the ship."

Kelly flushed and looked away from the captain. "Lt. Hansen, Commander Ro, you're with me." Seven was impressed that the first officer's tone was so steady, almost casual as she tapped her comm badge. "Dr. Lewis, Lt. Paris, please meet me in the Alpha Hangar for away mission duties."

The Borg rose from her seat and glanced once at the captain. Janeway returned the look, but aside from a slight tightening in her jaw, she didn't react to the first officer commandeering both her chief of security and her science officer. Seven lifted a brow and followed Kelly and Ro into the turbolift, her mind already turning to what mysteries lay on the drifting ship.

Glancing briefly around the shuttle, Kelly wondered at its design. It wasn't like anything else she had encountered in Starfleet, and she wondered how it would handle, marveling at the old fashioned controls. There were buttons rather than touch pads, levers rather than sensor grids, but it was also oomier than the class two shuttles she was used to, and provided individual workstations for the members of the away team. Ro covered tactical while Hansen was at the ops station next to her. In the rear of the cockpit, at the engineering station, Dr. Lewis checked over his medical supplies. The away team had no way of knowing what they would find over there, but they wanted to be ready.

Kelly wished she had time to stop by her quarters and retrieve her rifle, rather than rely on whatever weapons were stowed away on the Delta Wing. She peered over Paris's shoulder from a position directly behind him in the small seat that unfolded from the console. It wasn't the sturdiest of supports, but it allowed Kelly the best line of sight as they approached the stricken vessel.

"Do we know for sure this is Raelien?" she threw over her shoulder.

"The design structure matches that of the first vessel we encountered," Hansen responded promptly. "As do the warp signatures. However, this appears to be less streamlined."

"A passenger ship rather than a fighter," Paris suggested. "Or a freighter."

Kelly tried not to fidget as Paris deftly maneuvered the delta flyer into a docking position with the alien vessel, though she was impressed with his skill at matching the drift of the two ships and bringing their ports deftly together. The alien airlock appeared much smaller than the delta flyer's, and he had to be sure to center it properly so that a tight seal would be provided. Despite having to back the ship up with thrusters, he managed it on the first try. The two ships were now joined, the delta flyer facing out toward the huge bulk of Millennium, which hovered over them like a stern mother with a child. From this vantage point, it was easy to get a sense of just how big the Federation starship really was.

"Good job, Lieutenant," Kelly muttered. "Stay with the ship. Let the captain know we're going in."

"Aye, sir," he said. He paused. "Are you sure you want me to remain behind? I have medical experience from my time in sickbay."

She paused, long enough to shoot him an admonishing look. "The doctor should be able to handle it. In any event, regulations require that someone remain behind to secure the ship and keep Millennium updated on our progress."

"Yes, but..."

"As you were, Lieutenant," she snapped, and he subsided.

Ro was already back in the mission module, accessing a compartment and distributing equipment to the rest of the away team. As Kelly joined them, she wondered why the security chief only handed out hand phasers with the tricorders, but she wasn't about to countermand the Bajoran's instincts. Either she trusted the people at her back, or she should have chosen other officers to accompany her.

She would have felt better with phaser rifle, however, rather than the tiny phaser she attached to her tunic. Taking a breath, she followed as Ro led the way to the rear of the flyer, where the Bajoran keyed in the controls of the airlock. The door slid open and Seven stepped inside, utilizing her tricorder to scan through the heavy door.

"The seal is intact, Commander," she said. "I'm detecting an oxygen/nitrogen atmosphere beyond the airlock, with a high percentage of humidity. There are no indications of viral or harmful elements in the environment."

Ro nodded, and then seemed to remember she wasn't in charge. She glanced at Kelly.

"Proceed, Commander," Kelly instructed. "You take point."

Dr. Lewis glanced at her as if to protest the military term, but he didn't say anything as Ro unsealed the last barrier between the away team and the alien ship. The air that billowed out to greet them was warm and very moist, heavy with unfamiliar scents. Kelly felt sweat start to bead on her forehead, as it did on Ro Laren. Hansen and the doctor appeared not to be affected at all. Kelly knew why the doctor was immune to the abrupt rise in temperature, but she was surprised at the science officer. Did it have something to do with the Borg implants she still maintained? Kelly couldn't decide, but entering an alien, and possibly hostile environment, was probably not the time to try to figure it out.

The interior of the alien ship was small and cramped, clearly designed for the compact little Raeliens rather than beings the size of the Federation officers. Kelly was forced to duck the low ceiling, walking in a hunched over position, while the rest of the away team strung out in a line, moving through the narrow corridors one at a time. The air seemed stale, filled with unusual smells, musky like the glandular scents of mink or otters in a zoo. Ro headed aft, obviously suspecting, as Kelly did, that the bridge would be located there. The team paused to check each compartment along the way.

In one of the larger ones, perhaps a mess hall or crew quarters of some kind, they discovered their first corpses. The Raeliens looked even more like rodents in death than they did in life, stiff and unmoving on their backs and sides, their little paws curled against their chests, their haunches drawn up against their belly in a final, futile gesture of defense. Unfamiliar tools and utensils lay scattered beside them, some broken in the impact with the deck. Wearing some kind of sleeveless tan tunics and short pants, the only color was found on the shoulders, little tabs that perhaps indicated some kind of ranking system. There were slits at the back of the garments to allow for the passage of thick, flat tails. Kelly thought that they might have been a semi-aquatic species, drawing on old Academy classes in recognizing certain identifying features of their physiology. Behind her, Ro covered the door, her phaser lifted in a ready position as she guarded the away team.

"What happened here?" the first officer muttered unhappily, feeling the hair lift on the back of her neck, uncomfortable in this ship of death.

"Unknown," Lewis responded as he knelt over the closest body, scanning it with his tricorder. "There's no indication of blunt trauma or violence. It's as if they simply dropped in their tracks. It could be a biological element of some kind."

"One that wasn't detected by our sensors?" Absurdly, Kelly held her breath, as if that would counteract any viral element that might infect them. When she realized what she was doing, she forced herself to resume regular respiration, feeling somewhat stupid.

"Possibly," Lewis said thoughtfully. "I doubt it, however."

"Doctor," Seven said. "I am detecting lingering traces of magnetascopic radiation."

Ro looked back over her shoulder. "If their ship encountered some kind of energy wave, that would explain the suddenness of their deaths."

Lewis paused and glanced up at Kelly. "I can't do anything more here. We need to track down those lifesigns."

"It also explains the disruption of our sensors, transporters and communications," Ro added in a low voice to the first officer as they went back out into the corridor. "It's not surprising that the Raeliens use this nebula as a hiding place. It would conceal the movements of their ships, and make it easy to disappear, despite the danger the nebula presents."

"It doesn't make sense, though." Kelly frowned thoughtfully, calling on her astrophysics training. "Magnetascopic interference emanates from unstable protostars. They can't exist in nebulas."

"As far as we know," Ro reminded her. "We really can't tell what's in the center of this nebula. It could be a phenomenon never before encountered by Starfleet."

"Maybe," Kelly said, but she wasn't satisfied. Her immediate theory was that someone may have found a way to use magnetascopic radiation as a weapon.

Led by the steady beeping of Seven's tricorder, the away team made their way to the bridge. This area of the ship must have been more heavily shielded than the rest. There were six individuals here, their breathing harsh in the moist atmosphere. They were clearly in pain, curled up as they suffered in silence, unable to protest as the Federation away team moved among them.

"It's all right," the doctor said, his voice soothing as he knelt next to a casualty. "We're here to help." He checked his readings, selected a vial from his bag, inserted it in the hypospray and administered it to the patient. Immediately, the tension in the form relaxed, leaving the creature limp on the deck. It appeared unable to speak, but there was unmistakable gratitude in the large, golden eyes.

For some reason, the lines of this body, more delicate than the others, made Kelly think this was a female the doctor was treating, though she couldn't be sure. For all she knew, it could be the only male among a crew of much larger, more muscular females. The first officer certainly wasn't about to do anything so inappropriate as check between their legs to determine their sex. The doctor moved onto the next patient, while across the room, Seven was doing the same to others. Kelly hadn't known Hansen was so adept with a medical tricorder.

Kelly looked around the room while Ro studied the computers, tentatively poking at the various buttons and switches. It definitely appeared to be a control center of some kind. These individuals were probably the ship's bridge crew, falling at their posts when struck by the wave of radiation. One, located next to a console, had apparently remained mobile long enough to activate the distress beacon. He was slumped next to the oddly shaped stool, looking tiny and helpless in his pain as he curled around himself. It suddenly struck Kelly that these were the people she had been about to blow out of space only a few days earlier, for no other reason than because they had made a show of hostility, like a little yapping dog fiercely protective of its territory. At the time, she hadn't cared what their reasons were for challenging Millennium, only that they had dared to. Now, she felt sick as she realized how much the war had impacted her instincts. Even though she had believed her actions to be absolutely right, to be absolutely correct, she was staring directly at concrete proof as to why her reasoning had been so terribly wrong.

This was part of what she was supposed to learn while on this vessel, Kelly realized. For the first time, she began to have a glimmer of what Nechayev had been telling her, how this was a promotion intended to teach her how to operate as a Starfleet captain, not a punitive measure designed to bring a rebellious officer back into line.

Lewis tapped his comm badge. "Away team to Delta Wing."

"Paris here."

"Lt. Paris, please prepare to take on six casualties. They will need to be placed in a stasis field until we get them back to Millennium."

"Understood."

The doctor glanced over at Kelly. "We need to get them back to the delta flyer."

"At this size, we can put three of them on a stretcher," Kelly decided. "We should be able to do it all in one trip."

"That would be wise," Lt. Hansen noted. "I am detecting a certain instability in their engines. If it persists, it will rupture the containment field and destabilize the warp core."

"We could attempt repairs," Ro suggested.

"It's more important that we get these people back to the Delta Wing," the doctor said tersely, as if afraid half his stretcher-bearers would disappear to attend to the ship.

Kelly considered it a moment. "The doctor's right," she decided. "Once we have the casualties secure, then we'll see if it's feasible to send someone back to make repairs."

Without any further arguments, Ro and Hansen unfurled the collapsible anti-grav stretchers they had brought from the delta flyer and shifted the injured as carefully as they could onto the pads, laying them across the width of the surface rather than lengthwise. The little creatures did not object to sharing the litter. In fact, they seemed almost comforted to have companions with them, reaching out to touch each other in a manner that seemed to reassure those who appeared disoriented.

It was a difficult task to carry them back to the airlock. With Ro and Kelly on one stretcher and the doctor and Hansen on the other, they had to be careful not to jar the aliens unnecessarily as they maneuvered awkwardly though the narrow corridors. Finally, they reached the delta flyer's mission module where Paris had prepared the stasis tubes. The doctor reassured the aliens that they were safe as they were slid into the tubes, his manner so gentle that they did not resist what must have been a very frightening experience.

Ro made a move to return to the ship but Kelly stopped her. "Let's get these people back to Millennium."

"You could leave Seven and me behind," the Bajoran argued mildly.

"Not without transporter support," Kelly tossed over her shoulder as she headed for the cockpit. "There would be no way to get you off in a hurry if you're unable to stabilize the engines. If there's time, I'll request that we make another run over here."

Ro still didn't look as if she agreed, but there was no way Kelly was going to leave the two officers behind while the delta flyer returned to Millennium. For some reason, she believed that Janeway would take another strip out of her if she did.

As Kelly stepped into the cockpit, she noticed that Paris was looking intently out the front viewport. "We've got company," he said grimly.

She peered past him, feeling her heart thump painfully in her chest when she saw that Millennium was surrounded by almost twenty of the tiny Raelien ships.

A muscle jumped in Janeway's jaw as she watched one ship after another appear from the surrounding clouds, surrounding the Millennium before she could even call for a red alert. She immediately ordered T'Shanik to boost the communications transmission, and sent out a general hail, explaining that they were assisting the damaged vessel, and were on a mission of peace. Fortunately, it seemed to be enough to keep the Raelien ships from immediately firing on the Federation vessel for violating their space, though no one responded to the ship's transmission.

Pacing restlessly about the bridge and down the ramps to the lower level containing ops and tactical, Janeway then stepped down into the 'pit' where the helm and other stations were located. She peered briefly over each crewmember's shoulder, assessing the data on their boards before moving on, making a circle around the command center. It occurred to her that she could do it just as easily from the console on her command chair, and probably cause less aggravation to her crew.

"The Delta Wing is hailing, Captain." T'Shanik glanced over at Janeway. "The away team are on their way back to the flyer with the survivors."

Janeway nodded briefly. "Any response from our friends out there?"

"No, ma'am, but I believe they're monitoring our communications." T'Shanik paused, her olive skin darkening slightly. Janeway had enough experience with Vulcans to detect the tiny, tell-tale sign of puzzlement.

"Yes, Lieutenant?"

T'Shanik exhaled slowly. "Captain, is it possible that the Raeliens haven't developed long-range communication ... beyond the transmission of low spectrum signals from distress beacons?"

Janeway lifted a brow. "I'm not sure. Why?"

T'Shanik looked vaguely dissatisfied. "This nebula prohibits long-range communication. If this species spends a great deal of time here, there may be a reason, beyond some kind of natural aggression, why the Raelien ship had to be so close to us before opening up a communications channel."

Intrigued, Janeway eyed her. "You're saying that while they can detect our larger range of communication transmission, they might be unable to respond to it unless they're much closer."

"It's only a theory, Captain."

Janeway nodded. "It's a good one," she said before returning to her command chair.

She watched the viewscreen curiously, contemplating T'Shanik's suggestion, and adding it to what she already knew about these beings. Hunted by the Elthanian hunting parties, preyed upon by a more powerful species, was it possible that a portion of the Raelien population had retreated to this nebula, lurking in its protective, if disruptive, radiation? In doing so, would they have adapted to a way of life where their ships traveled as silently as possible, exchanging information only when they were in close enough proximity to see exactly with whom they were dealing? If T'Shanik was right, then one of those Raelien vessels would have to be a great deal closer to the large Federation ship, well within weapons range, in order to communicate ... so close that one could practically hit them with a rock. That was a lot to ask of both parties, one side looking at a vessel that was a great deal larger and more powerful than anything they possessed, while the other had to allow the small ship to come so close, it made itself very vulnerable to an attack.

"Captain, incoming hail from the Delta Wing. It's Commander Kelly."

"On screen."

The view altered from the nebula to the Millennium's first officer. Kelly appeared calm, but her eyes were narrowed and her body language was tense. Undoubtedly, she had a good look at what was out there and was expecting, and possibly even spoiling for, a fight.

"Captain, we've secured the injured," the exec said. "Awaiting further instructions."

Janeway stifled a sigh. This was going to be a hard one for the young woman to accept.

"Bring them back, Commander," she said. "We'll lower our forward shields so that you can dock."

Kelly blinked, her face becoming an impassive mask. "Sir? We've detected no communications from the alien task force to Millennium, indicating their intentions. Are you sure it's safe to do so?"

Janeway pursed her lips. "You're just going to have to trust me, Commander."

Kelly hesitated. That was obviously the last thing she wanted to do, but after a long moment, she dipped her head marginally. "Understood."

"Oh, and Commander?"

"Yes, sir?"

"On your way back, don't power up the delta flyer's weapons, no matter what happens," Janeway instructed. "Take it nice and slow. Don't react to any provocation. This is a humanitarian mission, and I don't want any indication that it isn't. Actions speak louder than words."

The struggle was evident in the young woman's eyes, but again, she dipped her head. "Aye, sir."

The viewscreen shifted again, back to the view of all those Raelien ships drifting in the nebula, silent and potentially deadly.

Lt. Nog had shifted in his chair, his dark eyes bright. "Captain?"

Janeway looked at him. "Yes?"

He exhaled slowly. "Sometimes, it's not always wise to presume one is dealing from a position of strength."

A small smile curved Janeway's lips. "A Rule of Acquisition I'm unaware of?"

"No, ma'am," he said promptly. "Some advice I once received from a friend of mine named Jake."

"Ah," the captain said. "Did you know I have a dog named Jake back on Earth? Actually, he's with my mother at the moment, but Seven and I raised him from a pup." She paused. "You can't become too complicated with him. It's always best to keep things simple and as straightforward as possible."

Utterly mystified, Nog blinked. "Aye, Captain," he said blankly as he turned back to his board.

Janeway wished Seven or Ro were here on the bridge rather than this group of young people. They would have understood what she was trying to say. Or, at least, pretended that they did.

"Captain, the alien vessels are arming weapons," M'Reek noted flatly. The delta flyer had just detached from the alien vessel and was making its way slowly back to Millennium.

"Steady," Janeway murmured. "When the Delta Wing is in range, lower the forward shields and allow them to come on board."

"That will give the Raeliens a free shot at our hull," M'Reek said. His voice was matter-of-fact, a point of clarification rather than a warning. Janeway was pleased. Ro had good people working under her.

"Only if they take it," Janeway explained. "They know we're trying to aid a ship in distress. There's no reason for us not to lower our shields in order to take the injured on board. If we don't, our actions could be construed as suspicious and possibly hostile." She was basing her actions on nothing more than the fact that when the ships had surrounded Millennium, no shots were fired, believing that if they truly intended to attack, they would have done so by now. Still, there were certain precautions that could be taken. "Divert all personnel away from the section of the ship near the Alpha Hangar."

"Yes, ma'am." T'Shanik set to work. If Janeway had assessed the situation incorrectly, then at least the casualty rate would be limited to those on the flyer. The captain tried very hard not to remember whom that included as the minutes passed with agonizing slowness.

"Delta Wing is within range," M'Reek finally announced. "Lowering forward shields." Immediately, the crew braced for an impact that didn't come. A few more minutes passed, and then M'Reek lifted his head from his board. "The Delta Wing is on board. Raising shields."

The Raeliens had not taken their opportunity to fire on an unshielded vessel. Janeway had been justified in her trust, though if she had tried to explain why she had trusted to begin with, it would have come down to nothing more than instinct based on years of experience in the Delta Quadrant. Unfortunately, that simply couldn't be taught to another. A person had to live it, had to be certain in their perceptions of a situation and in the people around her.

Janeway wondered why her hands were so slippery with sweat.

"Transport the injured directly to sickbay. Dr. Pulaski is waiting for them."

"Aye, Captain." T'Shanik carried out the instructions and then glanced back, lifting a thin eyebrow.

"Hail the Raeliens," Janeway told her. "Tell them that we've taken on six survivors and are treating them now. As soon as they're healed, they'll be released." She paused. "Ask if any of the ships out there are prepared to receive them."

She waited as the message went out, directed into the nebula at random for whoever was daring enough to respond. There was no reaction for a few minutes, and then a couple of ships made an abortive move toward Millennium, stopped, and somehow sorted it out between them without any hint of communication. Finally, one darted at Millennium like a hornet dive-bombing a picnicker. Apparently, the Raeliens only knew one speed; as fast as they could go until they stopped.

The Raelien vessel floated only two hundred meters off their port bow. They were so close, Janeway could see the scoring from old wounds on the hull. From energy weapons, or were they a result of other encounters with magnetascopic waves of interference? The captain wasn't sure, but she knew that dealing with beings that gestured so abruptly could be hard on the nerves. For a human, such quick motion indicated a threat. It was up to Janeway not to allow primitive instinct overcome the awareness that she was dealing with an alien culture.

"They're hailing, Captain," T'Shanik said.

"It appears your theory may be correct, Lieutenant," Janeway said mildly. "On screen."

The Raelien that appeared looked so much like Major Quwill that Janeway wondered if cloning was involved. However, it was probably just her human inability to immediately decipher subtle clues identifying various individuals. Seven was much better at that sort of thing. Janeway was relieved when she saw her spouse, accompanied by Commander Kelly, come onto the bridge and quietly take their posts. Ro, undoubtedly, remained in sickbay, watching over their 'guests'.

"I'm Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation starship, Millennium," she identified herself politely when the creature did not seem inclined to speak. A glance at her console updated her on the casualties in sickbay, and she was grateful that someone down there, possibly one of the nurses, was keeping her constantly informed. "The casualties we retrieved from the damaged vessel are suffering from magnetascopic radiation poisoning. We have drugs and equipment capable of treating this condition. Your people are responding to that treatment and should be on their feet shortly."

The creature on the screen stared at her. "What of the dead?"

Janeway lifted a brow. Careful, she warned herself. There was something there. Had other species been less respectful of such things? Probably, she decided sardonically. Certainly, at one time, Raelien corpses inevitably ended up on Elthanian barbeques.

"We were more concerned with assisting the living," she said gently. "We left the others where they fell. Had no one arrived to claim them, we would have sent over another away team and gathered up the deceased, as well as repaired the damage to the vessel."

"And then?"

"We would have asked the survivors how to proceed. Had there been no survivors, and lacking the knowledge of your traditions, we would have honored the dead as we would our own, either by placing them in stasis tubes and firing them into space, so that their journey might continue, or by returning them to a planet where they could be returned to the earth." Janeway felt incredibly nervous, and gripped the arms of her command chair tightly. Death could be such a tricky subject when dealing with alien cultures. She might have just offended the Raelien beyond all measure.

The creature tilted its head. "We would have preferred the former," he said finally.

"We'll take that under advisement," Janeway said. She paused. "I apologize for violating your territory, but in our culture, a distress call becomes the priority. It would have been wrong for us to ignore it."

"In our culture as well," he said.

He was being very informative. Janeway eyed him closely. This was no military being, she decided, no member of the Raelien Guard. She was talking to someone who lacked experience with alien vessels, and was merely trying to make it up as he went along. She snuck another glance at the schematics crossing her console. The vessels surrounding them were not of the same sleek design they had initially encountered. Freighters, she decided. Merchant ships. Or were they more than that? Like the nomads of the Delta Quadrant, did these beings now live on their ships, driven from their homeworlds by the deprivation caused by the Elthanians all those years ago?

She lifted her head as her comm badge chirped. "Go ahead."

"Our patients are ready to be released," Pulaski reported.

"Have Commander Ro escort them here," Janeway said. She looked back at the alien who was observing closely with bright eyes. "Your friends are on the way to the bridge. We can make arrangements to transport them immediately to your vessel if you prefer."

She turned her head as she heard the turbolift and a group of aliens scattered onto the bridge. Most of them took one look at the viewscreen displaying another of their kind and rushed up to it, chittering so fast and at such a high pitch that the translator could not keep up, becoming a blur of white noise. Ro looked vaguely frazzled as she and some other members of her security team moved after them, trying to keep them to the localized area in front of the helm. Janeway swallowed her smile. Obviously, the Raeliens moved as quickly in person as they did on their ships.

Then ten more ships appeared out of the clouds, and Janeway recognized from their sleek lines that the Raelien Guard had finally made an appearance. Would they prove as understanding as the freighter captains, or would they decide this violation of their territory demanded instant retaliation?

Seven watched as the last of the Raelien ships disappeared into the obscuring clouds of gas and dust surrounding them. Janeway had spoken at length with Major Quwill, clarifying the events of the day and offering further assistance as necessary. Millennium's rescue mission had apparently impressed upon the Raeliens that the Federation was, indeed, a peaceful culture and offered no threat to them. They were willing to talk, and the captain took full advantage of the opportunity, exchanging as much information with them as possible, and refining what was rapidly becoming a successful First Contact.

Best of all, Janeway was able to secure permission to move deeper into the nebula with the intent of studying it further. The captain had glanced briefly at Seven after making that arrangement, as if to remind the Borg that she always delivered on her promises, one way or another. Seven had merely offered a patient look in return, but internally, she was thrilled with her spouse. Something very unusual was going on in the center of the anomaly, and the Borg was anxious to find out exactly what. She especially wanted to determine how magnetascopic radiation was present without the formation of protostars.

Despite granting permission for Millennium to remain in their space, the Raeliens weren't hesitant in sharing the belief that such an expedition was ill advised. They kept to the outer regions for a reason, explaining that conditions grew progressively worse the further into the nebula one traveled. There was a certain point beyond which a ship simply could not expect to return. Janeway assured them that Millennium was equipped for exactly this sort of exploration, and that her crew would be fine. Major Quwill simply stared at the captain a moment, as if realizing she was too insane to be reasoned with, and made his farewells.

Seven trusted that her captain was correct in her assessment of the situation, rather than the alien military commander who patrolled and lived in this area of space.

Dragging after a day that had carried well into the next, Seven realized the real work was just beginning. A part of her wanted desperately to be with her science staff as they went over the new readings taken by the ship's sensors as Millennium moved deeper into the nebula, but she knew she had to get some sleep if she wanted to function at peak efficiency. After stopping by her labs and setting up several projects for her staff, she left Lt. Wildman in charge. Finally, she made her way to her cabin, the illumination in the corridors dimmed for night watch.

Inside the captain's quarters, the weariness of the last two days slammed down on the young woman with the force of a phaser blast. She was barely able to undress before falling into bed next to her slumbering spouse. Janeway was so deeply unconscious, she didn't even stir when the Borg joined her.

Approximately ten hours later, Seven opened her eyes, completely rested and refreshed after her period of uninterrupted slumber. She did not regenerate any longer, but fortunately her nanoprobes were able to recharge completely simply from a natural sleep. Behind the Borg, the captain remained peacefully oblivious, her compact form huddled against Seven's back, her breathing steady and deep. Seven smiled faintly and inched backward so that more of her was touching the captain. She loved the sensation of her partner against her, loved the fact that Janeway instinctively sought her out in the night, cuddling against her no matter which position the young woman happened to be in.

After a half-hour had passed, she carefully rolled over, slipping her left arm beneath the pillow cradling Janeway's head. The captain made a small, sleepy sound and shifted, moving into the embrace of Seven's right arm as the Borg tucked the captain under her chin. Bending her head, Seven rested her cheek against Janeway's hair, inhaling the warm fragrance of her spouse as she basked in her presence.

"Hmm, what time is it?" Janeway's lips barely moved.

Seven, surprised that the captain hadn't gone back to sleep, flicked her eyes upward to the chronometer set in the head of the bed. "1127 hours."

Janeway licked her lips and swallowed, her mouth obviously dry after her long period of unconsciousness. "We overslept."

"Not when you consider how long we were on duty," Seven said softly. "No one can go without sleep forever, Kathryn, not even you and I."

The captain offered a rueful expression. "I still need to be on the bridge."

Seven exhaled. "I need to be in the lab. Our investigation of the nebula should prove to be fascinating."

Yet, neither woman moved, the warmth and comfort of their bed and each other simply too much to resist. As they lay in quiet contemplation, Janeway shifted over so that she was lying on her back. Seven glanced at her, noting that the eyelids were only half closed, the captain staring up at the ceiling with the distant air of someone deep in thought.

"Kathryn?"

"Hmm?"

"What disturbs you?" Seven rested her hand gently on the warm swell of Janeway's belly, rubbing it lightly, comfortingly. "Is it the same thing that disturbed your thoughts yesterday when you returned home?"

The captain exhaled slowly. "Maybe a little," she admitted.

"Tell me."

Janeway pursed her lips, the shade of her eyes a soft grey. "It's just a remark made by Ro yesterday ... about how Commander Kelly perceives me."

"Indeed." Seven lifted a brow. "Did you assign Ro to monitor Commander Kelly?"

"I didn't have to," Janeway explained so evenly that Seven suspected she was hedging somewhat. "Apparently, Ro has a soft spot for our new exec and is being her friend, much as you did in reaching out to Zar when he first came on board. Ro says that Kelly reminds her of how she was so many years ago."

"Before your influence descended upon her with all the subtlety of a warp core breech." Seven's voice was very dry.

Startled at the humor, Janeway laughed softly. "Something like that. In any event, she mentioned that Kelly believes the path my career took came as a direct result of political ties within Starfleet Command, rather than through my own abilities."

Seven absorbed that. "This concerns you?"

The captain frowned, the humor dissipating from her features, leaving them blank. "I worked damned hard for everything I have, Seven. No one can claim otherwise."

"Then why does Ro's comment continue to bother you?" Seven asked rationally.

There was a pause, and Seven waited patiently for her spouse to respond. It was clear to her that Janeway was struggling with something and finding it difficult to sort it out in her own mind. The Borg hoped that simply by talking and listening to the captain, it would help Janeway deal with her internal discord.

"I don't know," the captain said finally. "It's like a nagging wound, Seven. I keep trying to disregard the remark, but I can't seem to get rid of it."

"Are you afraid that there is some merit in the assessment?"

Janeway sighed softly. The pause was even longer this time, and Seven studied her expression closely. "Maybe." The captain's voice was very small. It was obviously something she didn't want to admit.

"How so?"

Janeway hesitated. "I can't deny that my father held a certain amount of influence in Starfleet Command," she admitted finally. "He had a lot of friends, and the Janeway name can still pull a lot of strings, even now. I also can't deny that certain of Daddy's associates, from Owen Paris to David Patterson, seemed to take a personal interest in my career, not only after his death, but before it, as well. I never considered a captaincy of my own when I was at the Academy, Annika, or even when I was assigned to the Al-Batani. I was content to be a science officer. It was Admiral Paris, and then Daddy, who told me I should pursue the command track. At the time, I just accepted it as part of the admiral's acting as my mentor, but now I wonder. Did my superior officers in Starfleet Command smooth the way for me to become a starship captain? Did they make it easier for me to be awarded Voyager? I know Nechayev wasn't too impressed with me back then, because she told me so, in no uncertain terms. It was only after I returned from the Delta Quadrant that she felt I had finally earned my pips. Is it possible that I didn't really deserve to be awarded Voyager when I was?" Her voice lowered, becoming slightly shaky. "Was I unprepared for the responsibility of commanding the type of missions Voyager was designed for? Is that why I lost her in the Delta Quadrant?"

Seven considered the captain's words. "I do not know what to say, Kathryn," she said after a moment. "I did not know you then. I can only offer my assessment of you now, and I believe you to be an outstanding captain. Others, like Dr. Pulaski, Michael Patterson, Captain Picard, and Commander Tuvok, also consider you to be one of Starfleet's elite officers. Surely, their opinion must hold more weight with you than mine regarding professional matters. Certainly, more so than Commander Kelly's."

Janeway put her hand on Seven's, linking their fingers. "Your opinion means a lot to me, Annika," she insisted softly.

Seven did not allow herself to be distracted by irrelevancies. "According to your own words, Admiral Nechayev also believes in you. She trusts in your abilities, and is prepared to stand behind your decisions. Is it so important when you developed into that kind of commanding officer, Kathryn? Is it not enough that you are, at this moment, considered by many individuals to be one of the premier captains in Starfleet?"

"It's not that simple, Annika."

Seven stifled her sigh. It never was with Janeway. Whatever the situation, it had to be complicated or the captain wouldn't consider it a worthy problem in the first place. The Borg tried it from another angle.

"Suppose you had not been lost in the Delta Quadrant," she suggested, disregarding for the moment that such a scenario would mean she and Janeway would never have met, ignoring the twinge in her chest that developed at the thought. "Do you believe that you would have developed into the same kind of commanding officer fighting in the Dominion War, facing the Cardassians and the Jem'Hadar?"

Janeway's eyes were dark. "I don't know."

"I believe you would have," Seven said firmly. "You met and overcame challenges in the Delta Quadrant that were far more formidable than any you might have faced in the Federation. Furthermore, you did it completely on your own, without the protection or assistance of Starfleet. You were the one who kept Voyager together for seven years despite the odds. You were the one who managed to take a diverse crew consisting of Starfleet officers, Maquis rebels, alien civilians and Borg drones, and turned us into a cohesive unit that could not be defeated by Hirogen or Species 8472 or the Collective." She reached up and touched Janeway's chin with her fingertips, urging her head around gently so that she was looking directly into that stormy gaze. "You brought us home, Kathryn. You succeeded when others, like Captain Ransom, failed. You are the one that Starfleet trusts to bring Millennium back from wherever you take it, mission after mission. That is not because they 'like' you, or because of who your father might have been. They assigned you this ship because you are the most qualified individual for the job. Whatever else you might have been all those years ago, however long it took for you to develop into the kind of captain you had the potential to become, you are who you are now, and that is the best of the best."

Janeway held the look for a long time, her eyes searching Seven's face. The Borg maintained her serious expression, knowing how important it was that Janeway understood how much she believed in her. Finally, the captain inhaled deeply, her expression easing, the fine lines around her eyes smoothing out.

"Thank you, darling," she said softly.

Seven shook her head. "I am only speaking the truth," she said. "There is no need to express gratitude for that." She paused. "Indeed, there are times when you do not wish to hear it at all."

A flash of white teeth appeared as Janeway smiled. "Ah, but that's one of the things I love most about you, Annika. I can always count on you to tell me what I need to hear, not necessarily what I want to hear."

Seven pulled her closer. "Can you accept that Kelly's view of you is completely inaccurate?"

"Of course." She shot a sly look at her spouse. "Never doubted it for a minute."

Seven decided this was humor. Perhaps it would be funny if she was a little more Human. She thought about it. No, she decided, it wasn't that funny no matter how Human she might become. Janeway seemed to read her thoughts in her expression and laughed lightly. Slipping her arms around Seven's neck, she hugged her tightly.

"You're my heart, darling," she whispered in her ear. "Sometimes, I'm convinced you're my common sense as well."

"It is merely necessary to remind you occasionally of what you already know," Seven allowed gently. "I also become too close to problems, and require you to point out what is obvious." She kissed Janeway sweetly. "Is that not why you married me?"

"Among many, many other reasons," the captain agreed. She nuzzled the Borg's ear. "I really do need to report to the bridge, my love."

Seven did not let her go. "If you are this late already..." she suggested reasonably.

Janeway inhaled sharply, her body warm against Seven's. "Then why not take a little more time?"

Seven drew back so that she could look into the captain's eyes, seeing the shift into the blue spectrum. "Why not?"

Janeway chuckled, husky and low. "Why not, indeed."

Epilogue

Kelly heard the subtle hiss of the doors behind her and she looked over her shoulder, surprised when Janeway exited her ready room. The first officer hadn't even realized the captain was on deck one, let alone that she had been in her office. She paused to transfer the files she was working on to her station, and then rose to her feet to step down to her post. As Janeway settled into the captain's chair, Kelly tossed a glance over her shoulder, evaluating the woman's expression.

Janeway seemed calm and relaxed, as if her ship was out for a milk run in the Alpha Quadrant between Earth and Vulcan, rather than exploring a spatial anomaly 80,000 light-years from home. Kelly wondered if she'd ever achieve that level of assurance. Of course, it could be sheer ignorance on Janeway's part, the oblivion of a woman who didn't have the sense to know what exactly was going on around her. A week or so ago, that might have been Kelly's assessment of Janeway's manner, but now she knew better ... or at least, she was beginning to.

She turned back to her board, bringing up the files that she had been perusing prior to the captain's arrival. A selection of various logs from Voyager's journey through the Delta Quadrant, they made for some interesting reading.

Just how big were the Hirogen anyway?

The End

•  This is the 14th installment in the Millennium series.

•  Dedicated to Dru and Susan.

•  It was posted to the net on May 28, 2004.

Relative Revelations
G. L. Dartt

The Nexus was bright and cheerful, the morning crowd from the Alpha shift filtering in for breakfast before reporting for duty. Scattered among them were several officers with families, the bright, cheerful piping of children's voices rising over the rest of the chatter. Through the huge viewports that dominated the fore bulkhead, the surrounding purple and yellow gases reflected the ship's running lights back into the interior with an unusual illumination. Millennium had been crawling through the heavy dust of a nebula for the past week, the ship's science departments happily gathering data so fast that the main computer could barely keep up.

Seated in a corner, next to one of the viewports, Commander Kiara Kelly sipped her orange juice and eyed the spatial anomaly, wishing it were the chill darkness of normal space and the sharp points of stars instead. While she had been greatly impressed when she first stepped foot on Millennium at the beginning of this year-long mission exploring the Beta Quadrant, she was beginning to think that once one got past the advanced shields and weaponry, as well as the prototype transition drive that allowed the vessel to 'jump' to areas of space never before explored, this was still basically a science vessel. And that wasn't where she had envisioned herself to be at this stage of her career.

Lifting her glass, she studied the orange depths moodily.

"May I join you?"

Startled, Kelly almost dropped her drink, and she felt the heat rise in her cheeks as she turned to look at the newcomer who was standing next to her table. Lt. M'Reek was whipcord slender, with an explosion of reddish brown hair and dark eyes. He served as assistant security chief to Commander Ro Laren, and while Kelly had interacted with him before, it had never been in such informal surroundings. She hoped her sudden feeling of awkward pleasure wasn't visibly apparent.

"Please," she invited.

His motion was compact yet graceful as he sank into the chair opposite her. She watched him quietly, not daring to speak, suspecting she would sound stupid if she did. She knew she was attracted to him. What she didn't know was what to do about it. Shipboard romances could be such disasters, and that was without even knowing whether M'Reek would be interested or not. Not to mention the fact that they were different species, and heaven only knew what the captain's take on it would be. Janeway would undoubtedly have some objection to her exec being involved in a relationship with a crewmember just because it went against some unspoken protocol.

All this went through her head in the time it took for the security officer to settle himself. Taking a deep breath, she smiled at him. "Just finished the gamma shift?"

He dipped his head. His eyes were dark and solid, black circles against a narrow rim of white. "I think I like this schedule better."

"Frees you up for the day and evening at any rate."

He regarded her evenly. "It's good to have my evenings free."

She felt a certain catch in her breathing, wondering why he was looking at her like that. Did she dare believe it could mean what she thought ... what she hoped ... it could mean?

"Um, listen, if you're free this evening, maybe you and I could..." she began.

"So what will you two have?"

Stopped in mid-query, Kiara blinked and glared at Paryk, the ship's bartender and lounge host, who had suddenly appeared at their table.

A small smile played about M'Reek's sensitive lips, as if he knew the reason for the first officer's glower. "Some r'ne'ck, Paryk."

Kiara had never heard of it. She suspected it was a dish from the security officer's homeworld, wherever that was.

"Something to go with that juice, Commander?" Paryk looked at her expectantly, apparently oblivious to her gaze of death. "Breakfast is the most important meal of the day."

"I'm fine," Kiara said through gritted teeth.

He didn't go away. Instead, he turned his attention back to M'Reek. "I understand Commander Ro has designated you the head of internal security. That's a promotion, isn't it?"

M'Reek inclined his head. "She just gave me the news last night." He paused. "How the hell did you find out so quickly?"

Paryk managed to look smug and modest at the same time, not an easy feat for the blue-skinned, purple-haired alien. "There's very little that I don't know about, my friend. You should know that better than anyone, considering how often you and Commander Ro use me as a source in your investigations."

M'Reek grinned lazily. "So what else is new?"

Paryk apparently took that as an invitation, and to Kiara's great disgust, promptly plopped himself down in the other chair. "Well, not to name names, but a certain beta shift operations officer, who shall remain anonymous, was in here a few nights ago, doing his best to put the moves on a certain chief science officer, who shall also remain nameless."

Kiara rolled her eyes. "There's only one chief science officer, Paryk, and we all know Madison covers beta shift ops."

Paryk shot a glance at her. "I was trying to be discrete."

"If that were the case, you wouldn't have brought it up in the first place," M'Reek pointed out dryly.

Paryk shot him a disdainful look. "Do you want to hear this or not?"

M'Reek held up his hands, not encouraging the bartender precisely, but not objecting either.

Kiara shook her head. She really didn't want to waste time hearing gossip about the ship's officers, particularly Lt. Hansen who, with her devastatingly good looks, probably had the entire male population on Millennium at her beck and call. Still, Kelly couldn't help wondering if the science officer had blown the guy off or posted another notch on her bedpost as some Starfleet officers were apt to do when on long missions. She knew Hansen was Borg, having been assimilated at a young age and joined to the Collective for eighteen years. What she didn't know was how human the young woman had become in her pursuit of sensual delights.

"I thought with the nebula, Hansen's plate would be too full to be dropping by the Nexus."

"Lenara Kahn dragged her in here for dinner," Paryk explained to the security officer. "Everyone's gotta eat sometime. Seven went over to the bar for a refill on her drink and that's when Madison made his play." Paryk laughed. "She dissected him into so many pieces, it's a wonder he didn't leave a blood trail when he slunk out of here."

"He's lucky the captain didn't hear about it." M'Reek's voice was heavy with irony. "He might end up cleaning out plasma relays for the rest of the trip."

Startled, Kiara looked at the security officer across the table. "What business is it of the captain's if someone's interested in Lt. Hansen?" she demanded, somewhat more tartly than she'd initially intended. "She's entitled to a personal life."

The two men stared at her blankly, before Paryk abruptly tilted his head, as if suddenly realizing something. "The captain and Seven are married, Commander."

"Married?" Kiara repeated stupidly. "Janeway and Lt. Hansen? Seven of Nine and the Captain?"

"How could you not know that? Everyone knows that."

M'Reek shot a look at Paryk. "To be fair, not everyone does," he reminded gently. "It's not as if they post it on the ship's memo board or list it in the initial orientation for new officers. They're very professional about the whole thing."

"They go dancing in here all the time," Paryk objected.

"Not so much this year. Of course, we're still early in the mission."

"I can't believe this." Kiara blinked, still rocked. "Though I guess it explains why I'm always running into Hansen on deck three. I thought the captain was conferring with her privately on scientific matters."

Paryk laughed. "I can't believe you didn't know."

Kiara felt defensive. "I'm not in the habit of speculating about people's personal lives."

"Jeez, been on a starship much? Speculating on people's love lives is the number one past-time."

Kiara opened her mouth to respond, hesitated, and then conceded the point. "Fine, but even if that's the case, the captain's personal life is something else."

Paryk let out another hoot of laughter and even M'Reek smiled a bit. "A captain's love life is generally the most interesting thing to talk about!" the bartender exclaimed. "Janeway's being married actually takes most of the fun out of it. There's no guessing about who keeps her in such a good mood."

This is Janeway in a good mood? Kiara was appalled.

M'Reek reached over and poked Paryk in the shoulder with a long finger. "Breakfast?" he prompted.

A flash of what might have been embarrassment crossed the youthful features. "Sorry," the bartender muttered as he rose to his feet. "On my way." He glanced back at Kelly. "Are you sure you don't want anything, Commander?"

Kiara exhaled slowly. "I guess I wouldn't say no to an omelet. Mushroom and cheese."

"Coming right up."

After Paryk disappeared in the direction of the food replicators, Kiara felt M'Reek's eyes slide over her. "What?" She felt foolishly vulnerable to that dark gaze, wondering if he was going to make fun of her ignorance regarding what was apparently common knowledge about the captain and her science officer.

"You were about to say something before Paryk interrupted us," he reminded her gently. "What was it?"

Kiara had to stop and think a moment before she remembered what it was. Heat rose in her cheeks and she cursed her fair skin. She could only imagine how red she looked. "Nothing," she mumbled. The moment had passed and she didn't think she could resurrect it.

M'Reek tilted his head. "Unfortunate," he said quietly. "I thought you were about to invite me out to dinner this evening."

"Oh. That." Kiara dropped her eyes. "Maybe I was."

"Then I accept."

"Uh, good."

Smooth, Kiara, the first officer thought painfully. Fortunately, it didn't seem as if the security officer noticed anything awkward about the moment. Instead, he offered a smile, one that softened his eyes and eased the stark planes of his narrow features. Disconcerted, Kelly groped for her juice and gulped the rest of it down, not even tasting it.

One good thing about Janeway's marital status, she thought with a silent sigh of relief. The captain couldn't exactly object if her first officer wanted to try her luck with the assistant security chief, not if Janeway was married to the chief science officer.

Janeway exited her bedroom and was startled, but not particularly surprised, to discover her spouse of over four years stretched out on the couch, limbs askew as her lanky form sprawled over the cushions. The half-eaten remains of a meal, congealed on a plate, rested on the coffee table, indicating that Seven hadn't even finished dinner before surrendering to sleep. Classic features softening, Janeway quietly cleaned up, and then perched on the side of the sofa, looking down into the face of her beloved Borg. There was a time when the young woman could go for days before feeling tired, but that was before she had lost so many cybernetic implants. Now, drowsiness could catch her off guard as easily as any human, and it obviously had the night before. With Seven coming off a week of double and even triple shifts as her department immersed itself in the wonder and scientific fascination of the nebula, even she couldn't control her fatigue.

Janeway suppressed a smile. Seven would be horrified to discover she had succumbed to such a Human failing.

Stray strands of blond hair escaped the bun the Borg customarily wore, and the captain gently brushed them away from the young woman's face. Seven looked so vulnerable when she slept, so very innocent, and the captain was reminded forcibly of the last time she had opportunity to watch her partner sleep so unguarded. It had been on Earth, during their last month of leave. Seven had prepared a picnic basket of delectable delights one lazy Sunday afternoon, and on a checkered blanket spread in the sunlit meadow by the pond, Janeway had enjoyed both meal and chef with equal and avid appetite.

In the languid afterglow, Seven had dozed off while the captain sat nearby, legs tucked under her, thoroughly enjoying the sight of her beloved Borg wearing nothing but a white western shirt left unbuttoned to reveal the length of warm, sleek torso, the thin triangle at the juncture of her legs pure gold in the afternoon sun. Seven's left hand, encased in silvery mesh, rested casually on her muscled abdomen, while her other arm was flung over her head in total abandon, a half smile curving the full lips on a face that was completely at peace.

Janeway couldn't imagine a more perfect vision of loveliness, nor being able to love anyone more than she did, no matter how hard she tried.

Smiling faintly at the warmth the memory stirred within her, the starship captain carefully leaned down and brushed her lips over each of Seven's eyelids before tenderly covering the generous mouth. The Borg stirred, making a sleepy sound of protest at being disturbed, even as she automatically slipped her arms around Janeway's neck, holding her head to her as she returned the kiss. She blinked drowsily when they finally parted.

"Kathryn?"

"Hmm, good morning, love," Janeway murmured "Couldn't make it to the bedroom?"

Seven opened her eyes wide, the brilliant blue pupils slightly muddled before they abruptly focused on her surroundings. A touch of bemusement colored her gaze. "I fell asleep." The surprise was evident in her tone. "I only wished to rest and recharge my nanoprobes for a moment. I intended to return to the lab."

"You've been working too hard," Janeway said, searching her face. "Darling, the nebula isn't going anywhere, and your staff is perfectly capable of carrying on projects without your personal supervision."

Seven lifted a brow. "Is that why you woke me? To lecture me on overwork?"

Janeway's lips quirked, a grin curling the side of her mouth, her voice suddenly very gentle. "No, my love, I kissed you because you're beautiful. Waking you was merely a beneficial side effect. And I really don't mean to lecture you. I'm just worried about you."

Seven hesitated, and released the captain in order to sit up. Janeway waited until she was settled and then claimed a position on the Borg's lap, straddling her hips as Seven slipped her arms about Janeway's waist.

"Am I neglecting you, Kathryn?" Seven kissed the captain's throat.

"That's not what I'm saying, darling," Janeway told her quietly but firmly, leaning into her warmth. "This has nothing to do with me, and everything to do with how much time and energy you're devoting to duty. I know this is a very exciting time for you and your department. I completely understand why you want to be there for each new scientific find and for every new discovery. It's no less than how I am in similar situations. But I don't want to see you run yourself down by not sleeping and eating properly."

Seven absorbed that. "I am eating properly," she offered finally, a sheepish tone in her voice.

Janeway smiled as she remembered the half finished meal. "Are you? You're obviously not sleeping enough." She lifted her head from where it was resting against Seven's forehead in order to look into the brilliant blue eyes. "I'm not ordering you stop work entirely, Annika. I know how difficult that is. Just slow down a little, and as soon as Millennium clears the nebula, I'll arrange for us to share a few personal days."

"Assuming nothing demands your attention?"

"Assuming that."

"You would allow Commander Kelly command of your ship that long?" Janeway flinched slightly and it was Seven's turn to smile. "Small steps, Kathryn."

"Small indeed." Janeway stroked the Borg's cheek and sighed lightly, wondering why Seven had turned the conversation around so quickly from her to the captain, but willing to go along with it for the time being. "I wish I trusted her more. The whole situation is so awkward and difficult. I'm not sure where to go from here."

It felt so good to be able to confide in Seven this way, and she wondered why it had taken so long before she had allowed it of herself. Perhaps she had been afraid that Seven would disagree with her handling of the first officer, particularly by involving Ro Laren. The Borg knew how to shred Janeway's arguments better than anyone, all the while making the captain feel about two millimeters tall. No one else had that ability, and the longer they were married, the better Seven became. Of course, no one else could restore Janeway's confidence and self assurance with just a word or a look either, so the captain supposed it balanced out perfectly in the long run.

"Is this so different from Chakotay when you first began working together?"

"It is different," Janeway insisted, pausing as she clarified in her mind what she wanted to say. "He was Maquis, and I could accept that until he settled in as my exec. Plus, there was always a part of him that I knew wasn't completely loyal to my ideals, that wasn't totally in line with what I could trust. It bothered me when we clashed on various issues, but it didn't necessarily surprise me when we did, or how he went about it. I don't have that with Kelly. I keep expecting her to act like a Starfleet officer."

"She is acting like a Starfleet officer," Seven pointed out gently. "At least, the Starfleet officers who served extensively in the war."

Janeway exhaled slowly as she absorbed that. "I guess that's the part I'm still having trouble with. I don't know what it was like for her."

Seven nuzzled the hollow of Janeway's neck. "Or for Nog, or the others who served during that time, just as they know nothing of what it was like to be on Voyager, lost and alone in the Delta Quadrant, dealing with Hirogen and Varduuar and the Borg."

Janeway lifted an eyebrow. "Perhaps I should have Ro run another simulation in the holodeck, just so I can try my hand at the Jem'Hadar."

Seven started slightly. "With the safeties on."

"Of course." Janeway smiled and hugged her, before reluctantly pulling away. "Duty calls." Seven made no move to release her, forestalling the captain's motion by tightening her embrace. Startled, Janeway looked down at her. "What is it, darling?"

"Don't go."

The Borg's lips sought out Janeway's, capturing her mouth in a searing kiss that made the captain's toes curl.

"Oh, God, darling," Janeway gasped unconvincingly when the kiss finally ended. "I have a meeting this morning with Kelly."

Seven briefly drew back to look into her face, easily determined that the captain wasn't being entirely sincere in her objection, and drew her down for another kiss. Janeway resisted only a few seconds longer before surrendering to the warmth of her partner's arms. Seven wasn't in the habit of making demands upon her, but when she did, it was the captain's immediate inclination to grant them.

Besides, it wasn't as if it was some kind of onerous task to share pleasure with her beloved spouse. Passion flared quickly as gentle, loving hands slipped beneath her tunic, loosening it and peeling it from her body. Her sweater and undergarments quickly followed, and Seven's mouth was on her breasts in the next second, her skilled tongue and lips doing the most wonderful things to the sensitive flesh. Janeway threw back her head and groaned, wrapping her arms around the Borg's head and holding it tight to her. It felt so good, and she could feel moisture dampen the juncture of her legs, desire sending chills of delight through her.

A chirp from the comm badge made the women pause, and Janeway resisted the urge to curse.

"Bridge to the captain." Commander Kelly's voice sounded vaguely curious.

Taking a deep breath, Janeway reached down to the floor where her tunic had landed.

"Janeway here." She reluctantly shifted away from Seven who was turning her nipples into points of sheer sensation. When the Borg targeted those particular erogenous zones, it was extremely difficult for Janeway to think clearly or particularly want to.

"Captain, were we supposed to meet at 0700 to go over personnel reports?"

Janeway exhaled audibly. Damn.

"Of course, Commander," she said smoothly. "I'm running a little late. I'll be along shortly. Janeway out."

She closed her eyes, exhaled slowly, and then looked down into the face of her beautiful blonde Borg. Resting her hand lightly on Seven's upper chest, she felt the warm throb of the heartbeat within. "You know, I could really learn to dislike her on a purely personal level, not just a professional one."

A quirk of a thin eyebrow and the smallest twitch of Seven's lips forced Janeway to smile.

"I'm sorry, my darling." The captain cupped the Borg's cheek.

Seven exhaled slowly and took the captain's hand in her own, bringing it to her mouth where she kissed the palm. The sensation was electric, shooting up the captain's arm, through her body and settling directly in her groin, causing another rush of moisture.

"God," she muttered, helpless against the feelings her partner was capable of stirring inside her, "if you really want me to stay, say the word. You know I will, in a heartbeat. Personnel reports aren't that important, and I have absolutely no problem telling Kelly that we can do them another time."

Seven hesitated briefly and then smiled, loosening her embrace. "Go," she said quietly. "You must report for duty."

"We'll finish this later, I promise." Janeway kissed her deeply, trying to convey the full scope of her regret.

Seven returned the kiss, but it was tender rather than passionate, and the captain knew the Borg had already let go of her desire.

Janeway sighed again and slipped away, scooping up her discarded clothing and hastily pulling it on. Raking her fingers through her hair to straighten it, she strode briskly to her private turbolift and turned around. As doors hissed shut, she saw that Seven hadn't moved. Instead, the young woman was still on the sofa, regarding her intently. For a moment, Janeway felt disturbed, though she was unsure why, before the turbolift began to move and her mind shifted to command mode, mentally preparing for her day.

Seven didn't immediately move from the sofa once Janeway left. Instead, she remained where she was, staring blankly at the closed doors of the turbolift. She wasn't sure why she felt so unsettled. It wasn't even that she and Janeway had been starting something very pleasant prior to being interrupted. Indeed, she had actually initiated the physical encounter in the hopes it would relax her and take away some of her feelings of discontent.

Eventually, she rose from the couch, glancing back at the indented cushions with concern. She shouldn't have dozed off the night before. It implied something about her continual lack of endurance that concerned her greatly. She would have to schedule a checkup with the Doctor once the ship had cleared the nebula and she once again had time to spare for such things.

Moving into the ensuite, she stripped off her uniform, took a quick sonic shower, and replaced her outfit with fresh garments from the replicator. She picked up a mug of liquid nutritional supplement from the kitchenette and exited her quarters, sipping it as she strode down the corridor leading to the public turbolift. She had leave to use the captain's private transport system, of course, but she tried not to unless it was absolutely necessary. Sometimes, she wasn't sure what dictated the unspoken protocols involving their personal relationship as opposed to their professional one, but it worked, and that was all that mattered.

The turbolift deposited her near her lab, and she nodded briefly at her staff as she headed for her office. It was austere, with little in the way of decoration other than an image of her with Janeway and Jake, and a small statuette deemed too ugly for the captain to have to suffer every day in their quarters. Taking a seat behind the desk, the Borg flipped open her desktop padd and activated her workstation. A list of requests from various departments appeared. Suppressing a sigh, she set to work to clear away the most immediate tasks. After an hour or so, she had finished most of the tedious daily details required to run her science section efficiently.

Irritated with the minutia on which she usually thrived, she rose from her seat and went out into the lab, intending to check on the progress of the nebula study. As she crossed the expansive room toward the astrometrics array, she noted that Lenara Kahn had several of their personnel running deep scans on the center of the nebula. She paused and watched for a moment, taking into account their proficient manner and attention to detail.

Kathryn was right, Seven thought ruefully. Her people were well trained and did not require her personal supervision to do their jobs. There was no need be here at the moment if other things required her attention. Catching Lenara's eye, a slight incline of the Borg's head was all that was required to have the woman leave the station and move over to join her. The merged Trill was dressed in a long white coat over a blue work garment. Her ash blonde hair was bound up in a bun similar to Seven's, framing the elegant features, highlighted by the spots that ran down her temple and neck, disappearing beneath her collar.

"I must take care of something," Seven explained. "Supervise the personnel in my absence."

"Of course." Lenara's hazel eyes studied the Borg curiously. "Seven, is something wrong?"

Seven lifted an eyebrow. "Why would you ask?"

Lenara frowned, lips pursed. "I'm not sure. You seem a little out of sorts today."

Seven considered that. "I am," she admitted after a moment. "I intend to report to sickbay for a scan."

There was true alarm in the Trill's eyes now. "Seven, if there's anything I can do..."

Seven tilted her head. "It is unnecessary to be concerned. It is merely a cautionary visit in order to rule out anything physical causing my sense of unease."

The explanation was insufficient for Lenara, she saw, but she had no more information to offer the Trill. Stymied, the Borg nodded briefly at her assistant and took her leave.

Sickbay was quiet when she entered. Of course, the only time it wasn't quiet was when there was a red alert and people were injured. Then, Seven would see it only if she were similarly wounded and unlikely to notice how busy it was.

Pulaski, Millennium's chief medical officer, spotted her through the transparencies that lined the wall of her office and quickly rose to meet the Borg. A tall woman, she carried herself with grace and dignity, her brilliant eyes sharper than those of officers half her age.

"Seven? Can I help you?"

"Is the Doctor here?"

Pulaski grinned crookedly. "By that, I presume you mean Lewis. He's actually off duty and gone into rest mode. Do you need me to call him?"

Seven hesitated. She did not believe it to be that serious, and undoubtedly, the elderly doctor, with her experience, would be able to assist her without the need to disturb the EMH who normally did her scans.

"I require a physical. Are you capable of diagnosing my unique physiology?"

Pulaski eyed her with sardonic humor. "I think I can manage," she said dryly as she motioned Seven over to the nearest biobed, retrieving a tricorder and a small probe from the tray nearby. "After all, Lieutenant, you're not really that unique. You're still very much Human under all those implants."

Seven frowned, unsure she appreciated the comment. She was even more unsure why she was bothered by it. She stared straight ahead as the doctor examined her, unaware of Pulaski watching the young woman with far more interest than she did the data being recorded on the tricorder.

"So, how are things with you and Kathryn?" she asked suddenly. "Have you had a fight recently?"

Startled, Seven blinked, turning to face the snowy haired woman. "No."

Pulaski's keen blue eyes studied her. "So what's bothering you?"

"If I knew, I would not require a scan."

The doctor's lips quirked, a tiny grin though Seven had not been attempting humor. "Seven, the scans are detecting nothing physically wrong with you, but they're only as good as the data we put into them. Tell me how you're feeling."

Uncertain, Seven sought the words to explain her sense of wrongness. "I returned home during the gamma shift at 0215 hours and paused to ingest nutrition. During this time, I felt fatigue and closed my eyes in order to recharge my nanoprobes. Instead, I fell asleep, and required Kathryn to wake me 3.5 hours later."

"That's a problem?"

Seven stared at her. "I fell asleep without conscious effort. I did not finish my meal. I did not move into the bedroom where I would sleep more comfortably. I have felt unlike myself since it happened, but have been unable to determine why."

"How long were you working?"

Seven hesitated. "I began my duty shift at 0700."

Pulaski snorted. "Well, that's nineteen hours."

"Forty-three hours," Seven corrected. "It was 0700 the previous day."

Pulaski stared at her. "So why are you so damned surprised that you fell asleep?"

"It is not my nature," Seven insisted. "I am Borg."

"You were Borg. Lately, you've been working on becoming human, and you've succeeded." Pulaski put the tricorder down and leaned back against the other biobed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Seven, you can't pull the long hours you once did. Your body won't let you."

"Why not?" The sharp anger in her tone surprised her as much as it did the doctor, and with an effort, she damped down her unruly emotions.

"Because," Pulaski explained in an extremely patient voice after studying the Borg a moment, "your cranial implant has cut back on the number of nanoprobes maintaining your system. Furthermore, they no longer regulate every minute detail of your physiology as they once did."

"They are becoming inoperable?" Seven was truly alarmed, and it must have shown because Pulaski raised a hand to calm her.

"No, they're becoming what your body requires, Seven. You live a human life now. You derive your energy from organic material, you sleep rather than regenerate, you read data from screens rather than tapping directly into databanks, you make decisions based as much on emotion as pure logic and fact. In short, your human systems are becoming dominant over the nanoprobes instead of the other way around, and the cranial implant is letting them. Isn't it what you want?"

"No!"

Pulaski blinked, surprised, and regarded her curiously. Seven bowed her head, feeling uncomfortable under the scrutiny, but not sure why she was reacting this way.

"I will never be fully Human," she managed in a quieter tone. "I can never lose all of my implants. To do so would be to die."

"That's true," Pulaski said gently. "But that doesn't mean those implants can't be programmed to act as human systems as opposed to Borg systems, to be limited in what they control and react to."

"That would be inefficient."

"I can't argue with you. Being Human is a rather flawed existence compared to being a machine." Pulaski paused, a small smile curving her lips. "It's ironic."

"What is?"

"I worked with an android on the Enterprise."

"Commander Data," Seven identified immediately.

Pulaski lifted a brow. "That's the one, though he was only a lieutenant commander then. I believe he caused himself a whole lot of unnecessary aggravation simply because he wanted so badly to be something he wasn't. I tried to advise him to appreciate his true self, to be the best android he could be, rather than a pretend Human. Everyone thought I was being bigoted, that I was trying to deny his sentience, but what I was really trying to do was urge him to be true to himself, to accept his nature and delight in it. Now, years later, I discover I have a Borg who doesn't really want to be Human, even though that's exactly what she can be."

"I want to be Human," Seven objected. "It has been my goal since being severed from the Collective."

"You mean it's been Janeway's goal," Pulaski said sagely. "You just went along with it because you love her."

"That is not true." Seven was becoming angry again. "Kathryn has always encouraged me to be who I am. She has always told me that it is my Borgness that is part of what attracted her to me."

"Ah." Pulaski's eyes grew lidded. "Are you worried that she won't love you because you're becoming more Human than Borg?"

Seven fixed her with a cold stare. "I was unaware you had a psychology degree."

"Several," Pulaski said, unruffled by the Borg's look that was capable of making lesser officers tremble in their boots. "Though I certainly didn't specialize in it, as Kes did, I'm fully aware that physical health is tied directly into mental health. Besides, you don't get to be my age without picking up a thing or two." She fixed Seven with her own patented glare of assessment. "Tell me, Seven, do you really want to be Human, with all our flaws and weaknesses, or do you want to go back to what you were as a Borg?"

"I have no wish to return to what I was in the Collective."

"But you don't want to be as Human as the rest of us, either," the doctor concluded. "It takes away your superiority, the enhanced abilities that make you better than everyone else. Can't say as I blame you. It's no fun losing all your advantages."

Pulaski seemed greatly amused at Seven's dilemma as she spoke in that dry, somewhat condescending tone. The young woman was surprised by the sudden urge to strike the doctor, by a strong desire to remove that smirk from her face and make her take back the comments. She wondered if this was Pulaski's usual manner when dealing with the captain. If so, it was not surprising that Kathryn often came away from meetings with the doctor absolutely seething. Yet, at the same time, Seven knew that Pulaski was one of the very few people on the ship who could tell Janeway what she needed to hear, even she didn't want to hear it and was resisting with all her might to avoid hearing it. Perhaps the same thing was happening with her.

"Is this irreversible?"

"What, becoming Human?"

"Being weak," Seven clarified sharply. "Being unable to perform as I once did."

Pulaski spread her hands in a shrug. "You tell me. The programming of your nanoprobes originates from your cranial implant. So much of it is automatic that you don't really notice what it's doing, anymore than I notice what the individual muscles in my legs do when I walk across the deck. It's regulated by what you consciously demand of it, as well as what you subconsciously demand of it." She smiled at the confused young Borg. "Who do you want to be, Seven?"

Seven shook her head. "I do not understand."

The brilliant blue eyes softened. "I know, and I suspect that's really causing your current sense of discomfort. You find yourself on the crux of a dilemma, Seven. Do you start pulling back from being as Human as you can be, reprogramming those nanoprobes to return all your enhanced abilities and inhuman traits, or do you accept that you're capable of being as completely and totally as human as anyone? The former will set you forever apart from Humanity, make you different, always an outsider to a certain degree, for the rest of your life. The latter will force you to accept all the little annoyances that we all face, such as allergic reactions, and growing toenails and falling fast asleep when you only intended to rest your eyes."

Seven took a breath. "I must ... consider this."

"At least you have the choice, Seven," Pulaski said. "Most of us are stuck with what the Creator gave us."

"There are great ramifications in either choice."

"Just so long as you remember it's entirely your decision, Seven." Pulaski lifted a brow. "I mean, Kathryn will influence you, as do others in your life, but when it's all said and done, you're the one programming who you will become. That's true in most cases, of course, but for you, it's a fundamental decision that must be consciously made."

"Will you become as fully Human as possible? Or will you go back to being Borg?"Kelly glanced over at the captain, trying not to be obvious as she did so. They had been doing personnel files for two hours and absolutely none of her suggestions regarding the crew had been accepted. In some cases, they had been dismissed with a casual disregard, while others had been considered for only the briefest of periods before being refused. At this point, Kelly wanted to throw the damned padds into Janeway's face, walk out and never look back. She might have, if they weren't stuck tens of thousands of light years away from the Federation.

She tried again. "There's an opening in biometrics. I think Ensign Esperanto would be suitable."

Janeway shook her head. "He lacks discipline and long term planning. Samantha doesn't need to be teaching an unqualified officer, along with all the rest she has on her plate at the moment."

Kelly didn't stop to wonder how the hell the captain knew anything about a lowly ensign on deck fifteen. She just exhaled explosively. "With all due respect, Captain, would you like to do these yourself? I don't seem to be contributing much to this task."

Janeway flicked an eyebrow. "You rarely do."

Kelly stood up abruptly, and the captain held up her hand, motioning her back down. "At ease, Commander. The comment was ... inappropriate. I apologize."

Confounded by the apology, one she had never expected to receive, Kelly wavered, and then resumed her seat in the chair, uneasily regarding the captain sitting on the sofa. Janeway carefully put down the padd in her hand and settled back against the cushions, her grey eyes regarding Kelly with calm assessment.

"Do you know why Starfleet sent you here?"

"To punish me," Kelly said bitterly without thinking. Janeway's face tightened and she added hastily, "I think it was to teach me some stuff."

"Like what?"

"Like how to be a better commanding officer." Kelly hesitated. "Permission to speak freely?"

"I was unaware you weren't." Taking a deep breath, the captain leaned back. "Go ahead."

Kelly felt her way carefully around the conversation. "I'm not sure you're the one who can teach me to be a better officer."

Janeway clamped her lips shut, as if she had been about to say something and swallowed it back. When she spoke, her voice was very mild.

"I ... appreciate that you have a certain reservation about me. I'm not sure where it springs from."

Kelly wished she was anywhere but in this ready room. "I .... I have no sense of you as a captain," she tried, struggling for the right words. She had never been particularly adept with language, or with conveying her thoughts adroitly. She was sure this conversation would result in being tossed out of the ready room, and possibly straight into the brig, but she gave it her best shot. "You're so rigid and by the book, that most of the time, I feel like I can't breathe. I can't do anything to please you, and I have no idea if I should want to or not. Most of all, I can't figure out why your crew doesn't feel the exact same way, but I've learnt that they would follow you anywhere, so they must know something I don't. I just can't see what it is."

Janeway pursed her lips. "Fair enough." She regarded her for a long moment. "Did you ever meet Boothby?"

"Who?" Kelly was startled at the apparent change in subject, trying desperately to keep up.

"Boothby. At Starfleet Academy."

Kelly blinked. "The gardener? I talked to him a couple of times. I didn't really know him."

"He's a groundskeeper." Janeway frowned. "And if you refer to him like that, then you're right, you didn't know him at all. I learned more from him than I think I ever learned from my professors. I just didn't know it at the time."

Kelly stared at her, skeptical.

Janeway sighed. "He gave me a very good piece of advice once. He told me to make sure I take damned good care of the details, because once in awhile, I was going to have to have my way with something big, and the only thing that would save me from a court martial was the knowledge that all the small details were done strictly by the book."

Kelly gaped at her. Court martial? She couldn't imagine Janeway doing anything that remotely put her at risk for such a punishment. "Yes, Sir," she said finally, her standard response for something she didn't understand.

Janeway reached out for the china cup sitting on the coffee table and picked it up, sipping the coffee slowly. Kelly had the unmistakable feeling that the captain wasn't thirsty, but rather, was taking a moment to compose herself. She braced herself for the blast to come.

"Kelly, you're simply not qualified to be my first officer."

Janeway held up her hand, undoubtedly seeing the red rise in the commander's face, the spark from the emerald eyes as the young woman struggled not to leap from her chair and storm out. The captain's voice was gentle as she leaned forward, and through her anger, Kelly realized Janeway really wanted her to understand that it wasn't meant as an insult, but the truth as she saw it.

"That isn't your fault. You have no experience with a ship this size. You have no experience with a science vessel. You have no experience dealing with all the administrative duties required in the position. Hell, you have no experience being a first officer at all. You jumped directly from security to command. Nechayev did you absolutely no favors by posting you here. She didn't do me any either, but here we are, and we're stuck with each other. So it's time for me to stop demanding you act like my first officer, and it's time for you to see that you have a long, long way to go."

"Are you relieving me of my post?" Kelly said stiffly, through lips so tight, they were almost blue.

"No, but I've finally realized that I can't make you something you're not. You're not ever going to be a good first officer, but that doesn't mean you can't make a good captain. In some cases, they're not even compatible."

Kelly had to stop and absorb the words, her anger ebbing somewhat as she tried to figure out what the captain meant. "What?"

"Being a good first officer means becoming the right hand of the captain," Janeway said, leaning back now that she was sure Kelly was listening and not just reacting. "Being in charge of the command support system, the consummate professional subordinate. Your predecessor was the perfect exec. He stepped in and took on the position like he was born to it, but he had an advantage you didn't. He'd spent years trying to achieve career advancements that you must have managed in months. He had the time to fully understand his innate skills and advantages, and learned how to compensate for his disadvantages." She shook her head, almost sorrowfully it seemed. "The war has cost you dearly. It demanded that you progress as an officer quicker than you were ready, as it must have for so many others. Now Starfleet is trying to rein you in, bring you back to a more controlled and disciplined evolution."

"Believe it or not, Captain, I understand that." Kelly raked her fingers through her short shock of dark hair, frustrated. "I know the war threw things out of whack when it comes to developing Starfleet officers, including myself, but it's not as if I can go back and change it."

"What is it you want, Kiara?"

Startled, Kelly looked at her. "Sir... I mean, Captain?"

Janeway took another sip of coffee. "What do you want to be? Do you really want to be a starship captain, with all that entails, or have you simply been on this command track through necessity for so long that you don't remember what you intended to be when you started?"

Kelly thought about it, wondering if she dared be that open with Janeway. "I ... when I was at the Academy, I pictured myself in the command chair. I went into security because it best suited my abilities, but I always went after the command track."

The corner of Janeway's lips twitched upward. "Then you're one up on me because I wanted to be a science officer when I started out. I was channeled into command by my superiors because they believed that was where I was best suited." She put down her cup. "They were right, but it took some time before I became the captain I needed to be." Lacing her fingers across her abdomen, she fixed Kelly with an evaluating look. "I don't believe you would have made it this far if something in you wasn't meant for command."

Kelly lifted her chin, surprised. An apology and a compliment all in the same conversation. What the hell was happening?

"Thank you, s... Captain."

Janeway's eyebrow quirked. "It wasn't a compliment, it was merely an observation. Your record shows you have a knack for making the right decision when things are falling apart around you, and any wrong decisions to date haven't held too much in the way of consequences. But you lack a certain awareness that every captain needs, and frankly, I have no idea how to teach it to you."

"Are you saying you have this awareness?" The question could be considered rude, but it was phrased as an honest query, so Kelly got away with it.

Janeway pursed her lips. "I do, but more importantly, my crew believes I do." She paused. "Being a captain means more than just making the decisions. It means taking responsibility for the lives of others. Furthermore, it means accepting the consequences of that responsibility."

"Having the power to choose between what's right and wrong."

"No, often choosing between what's wrong and what's less wrong," Janeway insisted. "You rarely have the luxury of a clearly defined 'right' in any given situation. And sometimes, even when it does seem right, it's not right at all." It was her turn to look a little frustrated, as if she knew what she was saying wasn't enough for Kelly to understand. For the first time, the first officer actually liked her a little, and it made her want to bridge the gap between them.

"Regarding our initial encounter with the Raeliens." Kelly lifted her chin. "How did you know?"

Janeway paused, looked startled for a moment, and considered the question carefully. "I just did," she said finally, and immediately looked apologetic. "I know that doesn't help." She took another moment to think, the muscle in her jaw jumping slightly. "In the Delta Quadrant, there was potential destruction in every encounter. We had no backup, no one to call for help, no one but ourselves to rely upon. That experience has greatly shaped my current approach to handling a First Contact scenario."

Kelly spread her hands, confused. "But then you should have backed me up and fired on them. Taken care of them before they made an attempt on us."

"But they weren't a threat."

"You couldn't know that!"

"I did." Janeway shifted in her chair, barely confined energy. "Kiara, take a step back. You're Raelien. Someone has invaded your space, someone much larger and from all indications, much more powerful. If you're going to throw it all away on an attempt to destroy us, how would you go about it?"

Kelly took a moment, wondering why she hadn't thought about it before. "I'd remain concealed until the last possible moment, and then I'd go after any weak ... or in this case, apparently weaker ... spot."

"And that is?"

Kelly didn't hesitate. She knew this one. "The aft dorsal transwarp pod. The shielding in that area is distorted by the proximity of the coil, which makes it appear defenseless, even though it's more heavily shielded than any of the rest of the ship."

"You certainly wouldn't attempt to ram us."

"No, I'd come in from above and behind, using the nebula for cover as long as I could. That's the only possibility for a weaker vessel."

"And a stronger vessel intent on destroying us wouldn't pass up such an obvious weakness. They might be suspicious of it, but they'd attempt to rule it out completely before they went after anything else. The Raeliens did none of this. They approached openly, and they didn't attempt to fire on us."

Kelly exhaled slowly. "I didn't consider that."

"Yet battle tactics are your strength, Commander. They're what you've relied upon your entire career. That shouldn't change just because you're in a bigger ship." Janeway paused, dipping her head as she pinned her with a look from beneath her lashes. "You're used to being prey, Kiara. Your mistake was in thinking of yourself as a predator because of the size of Millennium. You didn't ignore your instincts entirely; you merely applied them incorrectly."

"So you're telling me that you command Millennium as if you're still commanding an Intrepid-class vessel? A courier ship?"

"Not exactly. What I did is take a split second to put myself on the other ship. It may or may not have a bearing on the next split second when I have to make the decision. Had you done that, you would have known the approach vector was all wrong for a vessel that size to attack us, regardless of whether they returned our hails or not."

"But they could have been attempting a distraction, or been really stupid and suicidal."

"Perhaps, but the bridge crew would have given you information to indicate that. Ro would have let you know if there were other ships in the vicinity. You have to rely on your people. I have the best Starfleet has to offer. I made damned sure of that when I built my crew."

Kelly stared at her bleakly, the words seeping into her consciousness with a power that was undeniable. "I have so much to learn."

Janeway regarded her evenly. "I'll teach you, Number One ... if only you'll let me."

Kiara blinked. There was no sarcasm lacing the appellation.

Finally.

Janeway maintained the calm, pleasant expression on her face until the door had hissed shut behind Kelly. Then she rolled her eyes skyward and let out her breath in a huff. Seven had advised her to reach out, try to see things from Kelly's side, but it was difficult. She simply wasn't used to anyone possessing that number of pips being so uninformed. She was also painfully aware that there were at least ten officers on the ship who were better suited for the position of first officer. Of course, that made Janeway realize how lucky she was to have maintained the crew she had. She kept Ro, she knew, because it was recognized that as long as she was training first officers, she needed a solid third officer. As long as she had Ro, she had B'Elanna, because neither woman was prepared to serve somewhere without the other, and neither was afraid of walking away from the uniform if they weren't accommodated. Seven, of course, was protected because of her marriage to Janeway. Everyone else was up for grabs. Maybe it was a good thing Nechayev kept sending these unproven and untried people to her. It was certainly better than Starfleet taking Janeway's other officers away and assigning them to various parts of Federation.

Thinking of Seven made the captain reflect on the morning. The Borg was definitely off kilter about something, and Janeway realized she should have taken her partner's display of neediness a little more seriously. Feeling a decided sense of regret over not pursuing it, she was about to contact the young woman to find out if she were free for lunch, intending to have a long talk with her, when a hail from the bridge abruptly interrupted.

"Captain, you'd better see this."

Outside the ready room, Ro and Kelly were gathered in the pit, hovering over the science station where Seven of Nine was working. On the fore viewscreen, the constant pink and purple cloud had dissipated somewhat to reveal a black void. In it, a tiny sliver of something hovered tantalizingly in the center of the area that appeared unnaturally clear of dust and gases.

"What is that?" she demanded as she took a seat in her command chair.

"Sensors indicate it is a vessel," Seven said without looking back, as Kelly and Ro made their way to their own stations. "Located in what appears to be a sort of 'clear zone' within the nebula. I do not fully understand these readings. They are unlike any I have ever encountered." Since Seven maintained knowledge from over ten thousand species from her time in the Collective, it was a somewhat disturbing statement.

"Captain, I would recommend we tread carefully," Kelly offered.

Janeway flicked a brief glance in her direction, but nodded in agreement. Kelly had a decided bent for suspecting the worst of a situation, but that wasn't always a bad thing. "Helm, slow to one quarter impulse." The ship, already traversing the nebula at impulse, slowed even more. "In fact, take a course that orbits the outer reaches of this clear zone until we know more about it. Keep us within the boundaries of the dust cloud."

"That will hinder our scan of the vessel, Captain," T'Shanik, the Vulcan operations officer objected logically. "We'll be able to access long range sensor readings only."

"We'll have to live with that," Janeway told her with no uncertainty. "There's no need to take Millennium any closer until we figure out exactly what's going on."

At the helm, Nog quickly made the adjustments to the ship's heading and Millennium began a slow sweep around the empty zone.

"This could be considered the center of the nebula, Captain." Ro's hands moved lightly over her board. "It's also the origin of the magnetascopic radiation we've been tracking since entering the nebula."

"The zone?"

"The vessel."

Intrigued, Janeway stared at the small silver splinter floating in the darkness. "Can you magnify at all?"

"Attempting to, Captain," T'Shanik said coolly. "There is a great deal of interference from the radiation. There are also some inert areas of space within the zone that deflects our sensor readings. It's almost as if they're 'void bubbles' of some kind.."

The viewscreen altered, fuzzing slightly before clearing to reveal a somewhat ungainly vessel, bristling with various protrusions and bulges, vaguely cigar shaped but lacking any kind of sleekness. They couldn't make out a lot of detail, but at least they had a better sense of its shape and size. It wasn't very large by Starfleet standards, but for other space-travelers, such the Raeliens who inhabited this sector and used the nebula extensively as a safe harbor, it dwarfed their tiny ships.

"So the magnetascopic radiation in the nebula has been artificially generated, rather than caused by a collapsed photon star as initially thought." Kelly remarked, looking somewhat satisfied, as if some pet theory of hers had somehow been validated by the information. "Is it a weapon of some kind?"

Seven shook her head. "It appears to be a malfunction in the propulsion system. Some sort of pulse generated by the power source. It builds up until it reaches critical mass, then unleashes in a wave of pure energy. It may have been some kind of failsafe designed to bleed off excess power." She raised her chin. "Highly inefficient."

"So it would seem," Janeway said dryly, thinking of how the random surges of energy exploded through the nebula, lessening in intensity as they traveled through the combination of dust and gas until they dissipated entirely in the outermost reaches of the spatial anomaly. But occasionally, they didn't decrease in strength due to some quirk in the ebb and flow of currents within the nebula, intersecting with unsuspecting ships with devastating results, as demonstrated by a response to a distress call by the crew of Millennium a couple of weeks earlier.

"Captain, the signature of the vessel is Elthanian, but it's been here for some time," T'Shanik offered. "Our readings indicate that it is approximately 389.33 years old."

Janeway's lips twitched. Her notion of approximate differed slightly from the operation officer's. It was enough to know that the ship was almost four hundred years old. She didn't need to know the day and month it had been launched. The Vulcan, of course, would not consider the readings accurate unless she could determine the exact moment it entered this area of space.

"Lifesigns?"

"Unlikely," Ro offered, but she studied her data intently. "No indication of any, Captain, but there does appear to be some kind of storage area maintaining large amounts of organic material. Part of the ship has been exposed to hard vacuum while the rest of the atmosphere is poisoned by burn off. Large concentrations of carbon dioxide and methane."

"Was it a freighter of some kind?"

"Possibly," Seven said coolly.

"Not from the weapons signature," the security officer determined. "They have a lot of armament on board from what I can tell, though it's primitive."

"A raider?" Janeway stared at the screen thoughtfully. "Is there any evidence of damage?"

"There are multiple hull breeches along the port side, battle scarring perhaps."

"A battle it lost." Kelly frowned as she stared at the screen. "Why hasn't it been salvaged, if not by the Elthanian, then by the Raeliens?"

"Maybe they tried and those magnetascopic pulses made it impossible," Janeway pointed out. "Their vessels, even now, can't take too much of it at a greater distance. That many years ago, their technology would have been even more susceptible." She took a breath. "I'm afraid to think about what might be in that cargo hold."

Kelly looked back with a puzzled expression, and the captain realized that the first officer didn't know what she was referring to. An oversight, Janeway thought. She should have filled Kelly in on the revelations provided at the formal dinner the captain had held for Jiidan, the Confederation ambassador, some weeks earlier.

"Captain, if we could send over an away team, we might be able to retrieve whatever is in that cargo bay." Ro glanced over her shoulder expectantly. "It could prove to be beneficial in any future negotiations with the Raeliens."

Janeway thought about it. If what she suspected was true, and they were able to retrieve what were most likely the corpses of Raeliens killed by an Elthanian hunting party, they could return them to the aliens who held great store in the proper disposal of their dead. Better still, she could have Jiidan, in his role as ambassador, return them as a gesture of good will, possibly opening the way for future negotiations between the bitter race of people and the large multi-species alliance that bordered so much of their space. It could grant the Raeliens the opportunity to become part of something bigger than themselves, allowing them to evolve into a true civilization, rather than continuing to scrap by while clinging desperately to their limited territory. They had maintained their independence for a long time, but Janeway knew it was completely due to the benevolence of their neighbors who were currently governed by the policies of the Confederation. She had studied enough history to know that could change any time.

"Transporters are nonfunctional within the nebula," Seven reminded the captain, turning her chair so that she could face Janeway. "A shuttle craft, lacking Millennium's multi-phasic shielding, would be vulnerable to the pulses."

"We could adapt one of the delta flyers," Kelly suggested, also shifting her seat around "Bolster the shielding."

"Captain, those 'bubbles' T'Shanik referred to? They're 'dead zones' of some kind, possibly created by the long term effects of the radiation. If intersected, all power, including shields, propulsion and life support, would be disrupted," Nog offered over his shoulder. "It would be very tricky to navigate safely without running into one."

The young lieutenant was merely offering information the captain required in making her decision, but Janeway saw Kelly shoot the Ferengi a quick glance of contempt, as if the first officer suspected the helmsman of some form of cowardice. The captain blinked, suddenly realizing what the woman's problem was with him. She'd have to do something about it and soon. The Ferengi's reputation for caution and avoidance of physical confrontation was legendary ... they preferred to buy or trick their way out of trouble ... but that hardly told the real story of the young officer who had served in Starfleet during the time of the Dominion War. Besides, Janeway would rather have an officer who thought his way out of trouble than one who tried blindly to fight his way out. It was obviously one more lesson Kelly needed in her ambition to become a good captain.

Janeway stifled a sigh and resolved not to think about it at the moment, because when she did, the looming task of teaching Kelly was so daunting, it made her quake inside. Instead, she focused on the need to send an away team over to the vessel. If it proved too dangerous, she wouldn't bother, but she expected her people to accomplish great things as a matter of course.

"Seven, could a delta flyer be modified to transport a team safely?"

The Borg considered the question for a moment, and Janeway took the time to appreciate the play of light on the narrow features, the way the brilliant blue eyes narrowed in thought, and how the muscles in the long neck shifted as Seven tilted her head slightly. The captain suspected the young woman had no idea how adorable she looked when she was concentrating on a problem. Of course, Janeway would be the first to admit that she was somewhat biased in her opinion.

"I would need to confer with Commander Torres," Seven concluded finally. "It is theoretically possible, but she will know if it can actually be done."

Janeway nodded. "Do it. In the meantime, we'll maintain orbit and gather as much information as we can. Commander Kelly, assuming Seven and B'Elanna are successful, I need you to draw up an away team roster."

She took another look at the vessel, wondering if she dared lead the mission and whether it was worth the argument that was bound to arise when she made her intentions clear.

Seven settled into the seat at the ops station on the Delta Wing. Her head still ached slightly from the pointed and somewhat heated argument she had shared with Janeway regarding a suggestion about the captain leading the away mission. It didn't help that Kelly, Ro and B'Elanna had all agreed that Janeway really needed to remain on Millennium. That only made the captain more stubborn, and when the real discussion regarding the suggestion had taken place in the captain's ready room between the Borg and her spouse, far from the hearing and input of the other officers, the Borg had to use every bit of logic she possessed to convince Janeway she should remain behind. Even then, she wasn't sure she had. Sometimes, Seven didn't know if she won those arguments so much as it was Janeway strategically retreating in order to build up her resources for another, more important argument in the future that the Borg would not be able to win.

She did not underestimate the innate wiliness of her commanding officer, having intimate experience with it on several levels.

At the engineering station, B'Elanna took her place, while at the helm, Tom Paris began the pre-launch sequence. Ro made a final check on the cockpit to make sure things were secure before sitting down on the small seat behind Tom. For a second, it was like old times, with the original Delta Flyer and the crew of Voyager off on another adventure, but a glance at the uniforms, including the one that Seven now wore and hadn't then, dissipated the sensation quickly. The young woman dismissed the feeling and returned to work.

The trip over to the alien vessel was uneventful, though Tom had to navigate carefully to avoid the 'void bubbles' that would cause the engines to shut down and strand them in the clear zone. Not that they would have long to complain about going nowhere, since those same bubbles of nothingness would also remove life support, even within the environmental suits they were planning to wear while on the derelict ship.

"Approaching starboard side of the vessel," Tom announced. "I think I can dock."

"Do it," Ro said, sounding very much like her captain at the moment. She glanced over her shoulder at Seven and B'Elanna. "Go suit up."

Seven nodded and rose from her chair, following B'Elanna into the rear compartment where the suits were located. After pulling on the bulky protective garment and checking over B'Elanna's equipment, as the engineer did for her, they ran another scan with the external sensors on the alien ship, making sure there was nothing corrosive in the remaining atmosphere that would damage the material of their suits. By the time they finished, they had docked and Ro had joined them in the mission module, with Tom close on her heels.

"B'Elanna, I want you and Seven to head for the engine room and see if you can't shut down that pulse," she instructed. "Tom and I will check out the cargo bay."

Behind her, Paris looked surprised. "I get to come? I thought I had to stay with the ship."

Ro frowned, shooting him a look. "Why? Are you afraid someone's going to steal it?"

Tom spread his hands. "It's just that the last few missions, I've been stuck holding the fort."

Ro didn't exactly smile, but the corners of her mouth twitched. "Those team leaders were somewhat more by-the-book than I am." She didn't add that was because the captain trusted Ro to run away missions her way, unlike Kelly who had been leading previous missions. "I have no intention of exploring that cargo bay on my own."

Tom offered a charming smile. "I understand, Commander. It's scary being on a death ship."

Ro looked bored. "Don't make me regret bringing you along, Lieutenant."

The emphasis on Tom's reduced rank made the pilot wince as he headed for the compartment containing the suits. Ro ignored him and tapped on the transparent face shield of B'Elanna's headpiece.

"Be careful in there," she said, her voice suddenly gentle. "Remember, communications are disrupted and we're only going to be able to talk to each other if we're in close proximity. Even bulkheads will interfere with the comm signal."

The engineer, who was also Ro's spouse, grinned, revealing slightly pointed teeth. "I'll remember. You be careful, too. You won't have the Borg backup I do."

She flashed the grin in Seven's direction and made a gesture for her to follow. Seven checked her tricorder a final time and entered the cramped confines of the airlock, listening to the hiss as the air was vented. Her breath from the respirator was loud in her ears as the door slid open, allowing them to move across into the other ship's access port. The outer door of the derelict had functioned properly, but the inner one was obviously damaged. B'Elanna needed a moment before she was able to pry off the panel and cross-link the circuits, providing entrance to the ship.

This portion of the derelict had maintained an atmosphere, though it was murky and thick with dust. The readout on Seven's helmet display indicated that it was non-breathable, filled with toxic gases and lacking any significant quantities of oxygen or nitrogen.

"The artificial gravity has been compromised," the Klingon said, her voice sounding very close and intimate, emanating through the privacy comm located near Seven's right ear. "The power circuits are damaged all up and down the ship."

"Yes, Commander."

Seven had already determined the lack of gravity, feeling the magnetic soles of her boots automatically activate and clamp down on the metal deck. The Starfleet officers stepped carefully through the darkened corridor, their head lamps reflecting eerily in the dim atmosphere. Both women hesitated as something moved from a nearby compartment, both turning clumsily in that direction. Dispassionately, Seven realized it was the desiccated body of a ship's crewmember, disturbed by their passage through the dead air, floating toward them almost as if it intended to greet them.

It had curled up in a ball, knees to chest, arms wrapped around them, as if the individual had returned to the fetal position upon death. It was difficult to tell it had been Elthanian, though long white hair still flowed from the mummified scalp, fanning out as it tumbled gently. Seven frowned as B'Elanna reached out to fend it off, inadvertently breaking off a fragile limb, which spun away in another direction.

"Whoops," the engineer said, somewhat irreverently.

"Commander, it behooves us to be as respectful of all the dead, not merely those who may or may not be discovered in the cargo bay." Seven regarded her disapprovingly and the Klingon sighed.

"You're right, 'Nik, cannibal hunting party or not." B'Elanna removed a small packet from a pocket in her suit, unfurling it to reveal a body bag. They were all carrying a significant supply on their persons, having suspected what they would find here. With difficulty, the engineer managed to snag the body and maneuver it into the pouch as Seven retrieved the errant limb and returned it to the engineer.

B'Elanna sealed the bag and attached it to the bulkhead with a magnetic clasp, holding it in place. "Come on," she ordered. "We'll probably run across more on the way to the engine room."

B'Elanna's words were prophetic as they made their way aft. Seven found the task of bagging the remains unpleasant, but not as much as it would be had they been freshly dead, the various bodily fluids not yet evaporated away in the arid atmosphere.

"This is like old times, Seven."

Seven blinked. "I do not remember having cause to deal with the remains of the dead very often in your company."

"I was referring to us being on an away mission together," B'Elanna corrected. There was a hint of exasperation in her voice, and Seven smiled secretly to herself. "We don't get much of a chance to just 'hang out'."

"We have dinner together approximately every two weeks."

"That's all four of us, the captain and Laren included. I mean just the two of us having time together. We hardly talk like we used to."

Seven pursed her lips. "It is the nature of our current assignment," she agreed, not without her own sense of regret. "We rarely have the opportunity to work in close proximity as we did on Voyager. Our responsibilities are different, and so are our daily routines."

"I miss it."

Seven turned her head to meet the Klingon's eyes. "I miss it, as well," she admitted. "I shall make the effort to spend more time with you in the future."

A grin spread over B'Elanna's face and she nodded before returning to the task of easing the contorted remains of what once must have been an engineering officer into the thin, yet strong interior of the bag. They worked quietly for a few more moments. There had been six bodies trapped in this compartment just outside what the Starfleet officers believed was the engine room. Seven wondered if these individuals had been afraid when they died, or if the end had come so quickly, they didn't have the time to realize what was happening. She discovered she was hoping it was the latter, and wondered at this sentimentality. She really was becoming very human, she thought in disapproval.

"These don't much look like the Elthanians we know and love," B'Elanna remarked, sealing up the bag. She shot a mischievous glance at the Borg through the face shield. "Correction, the Elthanians that know and love you."

Seven sighed. "I do not believe Tazna Jade loved me," she informed the engineer. Perhaps she did not miss this part of their interaction so much, she thought wryly. Seven's love life had always been a topic of great interest to the Klingon. "She was merely attracted to me, finding me something of a challenge."

"Her and the rest of the known universe. I hear you shot down Madison the other night. I can't believe he actually thought he stood a chance with you."

"He did not realize I was married.

"He still wouldn't have stood a chance with you," B'Elanna noted knowingly. "He's a jerk."

Seven considered it. "He was somewhat inept in his approach."

"Good thing Janeway doesn't know. She'd have him scrubbing out plasma relays the rest of the mission. Or have you told her?"

"It was an irrelevant incident." Seven paused, and despite her better instincts, found herself adding, "Do you think I should?" B'Elanna's advice regarding personal matters was rarely useful, but Seven couldn't help falling into old patterns, even as she recognized what she was doing.

"Well, if she hears it from someone else, she could go ballistic. You know how jealous she is."

"For no reason."

B'Elanna laughed. "She thinks she has plenty of reasons. I bet she wouldn't have been as quick to grab you for herself if she'd known how hard it was to keep all the other hopefuls at bay."

"I do not require Kathryn's protection when it comes to these matters." Seven was a bit piqued. "I am quite capable of handling advances from others. Her jealousy can occasionally be flattering, but overall, it is an indication of her need for control. I have to remind her on occasion that I am the one person on the ship over which her control is exceedingly limited, particularly in personal matters."

B'Elanna paused in her motion. "Who are you trying to kid, Seven? We both know that if Janeway asked you to jump off a bridge, you'd do it without complaint."

Seven lifted a brow. "So would you," she pointed out reasonably. "That has nothing to do with her being my spouse, and everything to do with her being the captain we trust with our lives. We know implicitly that she would not ask anything of us that was not absolutely necessary."

The Klingon blinked, becoming more sober and less jocular in her tone as she pursued the conversation. "Fair enough, but isn't that hard? Not only is she your wife, she's your captain."

Seven considered that. "You are assuming that she holds the same dominant position within our personal relationship that she does in our professional life."

"Doesn't she?"

"Only as much as I allow it," Seven said with absolute certainty. "In truth, it is Kathryn who would 'leap from a bridge' if I requested it. My demands are not always as reasonable as hers."

B'Elanna looked at her, obviously surprised by the admission. "No kidding?"

Seven lifted one shoulder briefly in a small shrug. "As an example, Kathryn is not, by nature, domestically disciplined. She enjoys a certain amount of clutter in her existence, particularly when working on personal projects. Yet, with me, she is scrupulously neat, picking up after herself immediately. I demand that of her, demand that she go against her basic nature in order to satisfy my desire for organization and structure. In contrast, I have not adjusted to become untidy for her."

"That's such a small thing," the Klingon scoffed.

"It is indicative of the greater adaptation she has made being married to me," Seven insisted. "Kathryn is fiercely independent, even when she believes she is part of team. In truth, she is only part of the 'team' when she is in command of it. In our marriage, that is not the case. Occasionally, there are disagreements about how we shall adapt, but ultimately, we share equal influence in the relationship. Furthermore, I am aware that Kathryn would do absolutely anything to please me if I were to make it a demand. She would even give up her command. It would not make her happy in the long term, but I absolutely believe she would take that step if I asked it of her. No one else in her life has ever held that power over her."

Her eyes grew distant. "I know that had I decided to remain on Earth in order to be close to my mother, Kathryn would have stayed with me. It would have required her to give up everything, not only her command, but possibly her commission in Starfleet. That is more important to her than I think even she realizes. It is her strongest tie to her father, and the most important touchstone in who she believes herself to be, yet she would walk away from it without hesitation simply to be with me. That knowledge is more powerful than any minor disagreement we may have regarding our respective roles in our relationship."

B'Elanna was staring at her, eyes dark. "That's an impressive thing to be aware of," she said finally, in a quiet voice.

Seven nodded somberly. "I must never take advantage of that part of her."

B'Elanna tilted her head, a sudden awareness dawning in her eyes. "But isn't that what you did earlier today?"

Startled, Seven looked at her. "I do not understand."

"Isn't that why you asked to see Janeway in her ready room after she said she wanted to lead the away mission? It wasn't really to discuss the scientific implications of the derelict, like you pretended; it was really to talk her out of coming along. After you came out, that's when she appointed Laren the leader and announced she and Kelly would remain on the ship. What did you say to her in there?"

Seven handled this one carefully. "The captain did not truly wish to lead the mission. It was merely a passing fancy. Had she truly desired to command the away team, nothing I could say would have made a difference and she would now be here. That is not the sort of decision to which I am referring."

B'Elanna looked askance at her, but didn't say anything further. Seven had the sense that the Klingon didn't quite believe her, but that was irrelevant. Perhaps she could not explain the combination of tolerant acceptance and respectful compromises that comprised her relationship with Janeway, but it wasn't necessary that she do so. It was enough that she was aware of it when she approached the issues that arose between them.

As she followed B'Elanna into the engine room, she wondered how that partnership of give and take would apply when she informed the captain she intended to halt her progression toward Humanity.

"Prophets."

Ro looked around the spacious cargo hold, row after row of Raelien bodies stretching out before her for the entire length of the bay. She had seen some horrific sights during her life, particularly after ten years in a Cardassian internment camp, but never anything like this. Gutted and skinned, without heads or appendages, the corpses hung on hooks throughout the cargo bay, making it look like nothing more than one gigantic meat locker. Of course, considering the point of view they were dealing with, a meat locker was exactly what it was. In Elthanian eyes, these weren't the bodies of the conquered or even the enslaved. These were the carcasses of food animals on their way back to the Elthania of four hundred years ago, intended to feed a starving population.

She wasn't sure why it felt worse to her than what the Cardassians had done to many Bajorans during the Occupation, how they had sometimes displayed tortured and mutilated bodies of prisoners as a warning to the resistance. Dead was dead, and for all she knew, the Elthanians had adapted their hunting technique to cause death to come swiftly and without fuss, for no other reason than to prevent the prey from harming the meat while thrashing around in pain.

Still, she doubted she'd ever be able to speak to another Elthanian without this vision of death popping into her head, whether it was ancient history or not.

"This is going to take some time."

Ro shot a look over at the helmsman. "I guess we'd better get started then." She paused. "Are we going to be able to transport all of these over in the Delta Wing? Not to mention the crew bodies that Lanna and Seven are probably bagging? That's going to take several hours. We'll only be able to move a few of them at a time through the corridors."

Tom looked around with an evaluating eye. "We won't have to put them inside, Commander. We can string all the body bags together and tow them back to Millennium behind the flyer. Better yet, there's a cargo net over there in the corner that looks serviceable. We can toss all the bags in it, open the cargo bay doors, back up the flyer and attach the net at one place. That'll make it easier to unload over in Millennium's hangar, as well."

"Well, that's certainly respectful," Ro noted sardonically.

Tom turned to look at her. It's efficient," he countered soberly. "We don't have to tell the Raeliens the logistical details. The captain can dress it up anyway she wants when she finally hands them over. Besides, judging from the looks of the bodies, they'd better be in sealed caskets when she gives them back no matter how we retrieve them."

Ro thought about it. "I suppose you're right," she said finally, with a sigh. "Let's get this done."

The two officers set to work, spreading the cargo net over the deck as a place to hold the bodies, occasionally making a comment that wasn't as reverent as perhaps the task required. The Bajoran knew it was their way of keeping the horror at bay, at maintaining some kind of even keel in these surroundings. The black humor, the need to put distance between themselves and what they were doing, was ever present.

Tom removed some smaller carcasses from the metal hooks. "Their version of veal, I guess."

"Something like that," Ro returned, though her stomach did a little flip.

Those had been children, the same type that had greeted the rescued Raeliens at the airlock during the rescue mission. Cute as buttons, chattering nonstop as they danced around the large and clumsy aliens escorting the patients back to their people, the Starfleet security squad had found them absolutely adorable, as they tended to do with the young of most alien species. Ro had led the detail, and decided then and there that she'd better stop thinking about it or she'd never be able to finish this unpleasant job without embarrassing herself.

Searching for something ... anything ... to take her mind off it, she glanced at Tom and ventured something that she never would have asked under ordinary circumstances, not only because she didn't give a damn about the man who had once held B'Elanna's heart and bruised it so casually, but because she tried to stay out of any personal details that didn't concern her.

"How are things with you and Kes?"

She had startled him, she saw, but he didn't hesitate in responding. "We're good. We moved in together a month ago."

"So I heard." Gamely, Ro tried to keep the conversation going. "I'm glad things are going well."

"Thank you." Tom looked at her oddly. "Uh, how about you and B'Elanna?" He didn't even stumble over it. Apparently, he really was over the Klingon and had moved on, happy in his new life with the Ocampa psychologist.

"Good. We're talking about having kids." She realized she shouldn't have said that, but her surroundings caused her to take less care with her words than normal.

Tom paused, looking at her for a moment before slowly resuming his task. "Really? Congratulations. I don't think I ever thought of B'Elanna as a mom, but hell, why not. She'll probably be great."

Ro couldn't quite figure out whether to be insulted by the comment, before deciding it wasn't worth it. Tom was Tom, and he wasn't going to change no matter how long she knew him. "What about you and Kes? Talked about it?"

"No, it's too early for that."

Tom grunted as he lifted another bag onto the stack rising in the center of the net. The artificial gravity was in full force here, though off in the various corridors, and unfortunately, the Elthanians tended to like theirs at a half-G heavier than Earth normal. It made the job more difficult than it had to be, particularly in the environmental suits, but Ro didn't know how to fix it, and she didn't want to call B'Elanna or Seven away from their job of shutting down that energy pulse in order to take a look at the emitters.

"Besides, I want to be a little further ahead with my life before I propose."

Ro laid her bag carefully on the pile and turned to look at the helmsman. There had been just the slightest hint of bitterness in the words. "Regrets?"

Tom sighed, the sound loud in the speaker next to her ear. "Not about staying with Kes. Never that, but sometimes it's damned hard to play the role of a junior lieutenant again."

Ro wasn't entirely unsympathetic, but she knew the details and it had been solely Paris's choice. "Part of the job."

"I know, but I'm a damned good officer, Ro. It kills me to give up my station when there's a red alert."

"Nog's chief helmsman and alpha shift officer," Ro reminded. "That's how it works."

"I'm a better pilot than he is."

There was no boasting in Tom's voice. It was a statement of fact, and furthermore, Ro knew it too. Nog wasn't bad, but he didn't have near the experience, the skill or frankly, the innate talent that Tom had. She could see where it would be difficult to hand over the helm of Millennium, particularly when things were going wrong around them. But there was no way that Janeway could promote Tom to Nog's position, not as things stood. That had been Tom's doing. He could have been helming the Enterprise now. Instead, he deliberately took a demotion as punishment for imprudent actions during Millennium's first year, actions that never would have been officially noted were it not for Tom demanding they be added to the captain's log.

"The sacrifices we make for love," she said laconically.

Tom laughed painfully. "You got that right."

Ro shook her head, the motion hidden from her companion in the shadows of her helmet, and reached up for the next corpse, lifting the frozen mass from the hook. Heavier than she expected, she dropped it. It hit the deck with a meaty thud, and she swallowed back the urge to apologize to whoever this had been.

"Where do you suppose the heads and appendages are?"

"I don't know," Ro said quietly.

"Hmm, made into soup, most likely and eaten by the crew, along with the organs."

Ro closed her eyes, holding back the threatened nausea. "Is there a reason you're fascinated by this, Tom?" she demanded irascibly, once she had her gorge under control.

"I'm just making conversation."

"Pick another topic."

There was a brief, offended silence, but just when Ro thought that she would finish the mission out in peace, Tom resumed the conversation.

"So how many kids?"

"What?"

"How many kids are you and B'Elanna planning to have?"

Ro sighed. "I think we're just going to worry about the one for now."

"Boy or girl?"

Ro made a quick count of the remaining corpses and decided it was time to use a little command prerogative. "I don't know, Tom. Whatever." She stepped back from the pitiful pile in the center of the cargo bay. "I'm going to see how B'Elanna and Seven are doing. Finish up here. I'll meet you back at the shuttle."

Tom straightened, staring at her. "By myself?"

Ro lifted her hand in a wave as she headed for the door. "I know it's scary being on a death ship, Lieutenant, but you're the one who wanted to come on the away mission."

She found it easier to breathe once she was out in the corridors, though she continued to encounter body bags lining the bulkhead. Switching off the magnetic soles of her boots, she used the guide rod installed on the ceiling to pull herself along hand over hand, finding it much quicker and a little more entertaining than walking. As she approached the engine room, she keyed her communication system into the privacy circuit the other two were using, in time to hear her partner speaking.

"...bypass the manifold, we should be able to eject the fuel cell and prevent any further buildup."

"Acceptable. By doing so, we can..."

The link faded out briefly as Ro swung down and made contact with the deck, activating her boots. The door was half open, and she had to force it open a little further to make it through without getting caught up by her suit.

B'Elanna and Seven looked back as she entered, their headlamps bouncing jerkily in the murky atmosphere.

"What's our status?"

"Commander Torres has proposed a plan to eject the fuel cells," Seven replied. B'Elanna had returned to work as soon as she identified the newcomer, her breath harsh in Ro's ear as she used a spanner to probe deep inside a panel. "If we calculate the spin and drift pattern of the vessel, we should be able to eject it directly in a void bubble, thus rendering it inert."

"Good idea. How soon before you're finished?"

"I'll need about another hour or so," B'Elanna spoke up. "Where are we on the body retrieval detail?"

"Tom has to finish in the cargo bay, and we also have to gather the Elthanian remains from around the ship. I would like you to remote time the ejection. If the eject cycle doesn't work, or you miss the void bubble, we may have to destroy the fuel cell quickly, and we'll have to do it from the Delta Wing. I want everything secure before that happens."

"I'll set it up that way," B'Elanna agreed.

Ro glanced at the Borg. "Are you needed here, Seven, or can you assist me in gathering up the Elthanians?"

The suited figure dipped her head. "I will assist you, Commander."

"Will you be all right here alone, 'Lanna?"

A soft chuckle sounded in the Bajoran's ear. "I don't think the ship is haunted, Laren, and even if it was, I'm not the sort that's scared of ghosts."

"Fair enough." Ro motioned at Seven and the Borg followed her as she left the engine room.

"We did not check any compartments exposed to hard vacuum," Seven noted as they began the grisly task of picking up the random body bags and dragging them to the cargo bay. It was easy to maneuver them in the corridors without gravity, but when they neared the hold, there was a point where they abruptly dropped to the deck and both women had to be careful that the impact didn't shatter the contents.

"No need," Ro grunted as she wrestled the bag through the cargo bay door. "Bodies exposed to vacuum would have been blasted out into space by the explosive decompression. Those remains are probably floating around the nebula."

Seven paused. "I am aware of the effects of decompression, Commander. I was referring to those bodies that may have been held by restraints, or were caught by some obstruction in their passage to the outside. In any event, it would be prudent to check the bridge to see if any information can be retrieved from the main computer."

"Damn, you would think of that, wouldn't you?" Ro exhaled explosively. "You're right, Seven. If we're doing this job, I guess we have to do it right."

"You and I will just have to take a trip to the bridge."

"May I ask you something, Captain?"

Most of the crew knew that when her partner was on an away mission, it was not the best time to ask idle questions of Janeway. In fact, it wasn't really the time to ask important questions either. Most of them had learned to speak only when spoken to or stayed out of her way altogether. Apparently, this was yet another of the multitude of lessons Kiara Kelly needed to learn if she expected to survive her tour of duty on Millennium.

"Go ahead," the captain said tightly. The first officer was standing next to her chair, speaking in a low voice, and Janeway wondered if she really wanted to hear the question that obviously wasn't for public consumption by the rest of the bridge crew who were smart enough not to even look in the captain's direction.

"I initially assigned M'Reek to the away mission. Why did you override that choice and assign Commander Ro?" Kelly's tone was stiff but respectful. She was obviously trying to understand why Janeway did the things she did rather than become angry at them and file it away as yet another thing to resent.

The captain, on the other hand, decided she preferred it when Kelly was avoiding her, rather than seeking her out for command lessons. She exhaled slowly, keeping her voice calm.

"For future reference, Number One, if the chief science officer is assigned an away mission, then Commander Ro will always accompany her. No lesser security detail is sufficient."

Kelly regarded her for a moment, and Janeway wondered if she was going to question the instruction, perhaps even demand to know why Seven was accorded such special treatment. She might even ask if the Borg was untrustworthy in some manner to require the chief security officer be present on her away missions.

Instead, Kelly appeared to absorb the comment, nodded knowingly, and retreated to her station. Janeway decided that someone must have filled the young woman in regarding the captain and Seven's marital status, which was something of a relief. That or the first officer thought that since this was a science vessel, then the chief science officer was the most valuable member of the crew and needed the best security officer on the ship to protect her.

Looking back at the screen, Janeway wished she had overridden Seven's protest about leading the away mission. Nor did it help her peace of mind that communication was so disrupted in the nebula. They didn't know what was going on over in the derelict beyond what their sensors could detect. Those devices had recorded the delta flyer's careful approach to the ship, noted that the docking had been conducted safely and securely, and that four lifesigns were now moving about on board the vessel. Kelly had glanced back at the captain when the last piece of information had come in, as if wondering why Janeway didn't object to the ignored protocol of always having a presence maintained on the Starfleet shuttle. The captain didn't enlighten her, merely nodded at the report from T'Shanik, and remained seated in her chair, staring intently at the viewscreen as if sheer willpower could somehow enable her to see what was going on inside.

The turbolift door hissed open and Janeway glanced over to see Kes enter the bridge. She wondered what the ship's counselor was doing there, and then realized that she must be concerned about Tom. The captain needed to remember that she wasn't the only loved one that had to remain behind. At least B'Elanna and Ro were together and she didn't have an agitated Klingon on her hands, though B'Elanna had always seemed to be more comfortable with her spouse being away than most. Or perhaps she was just better at hiding it than others.

Kes moved over to the captain's chair, a diminutive woman with shaggy blonde hair and large blue eyes. "What's the status of the away team?" Her voice was musical, gentle, and despite her unease, Janeway was soothed just hearing it.

""We know they're on board the vessel and that they're doing something," the captain informed her." Beyond that, we have no idea. Communication signals can't reach us as long as we remain in the nebula."

"And if we entered the clear zone?"

Janeway lifted her chin. "I can't justify that," she said firmly. "There's too much risk that the ship will be caught in one of those void bubbles. For all we know, that's what damaged the derelict to begin with."

But she knew if there was a distress call, or the slightest hint of trouble, she would order the ship into the clear zone without a second thought.

Suddenly, the confines of the bridge were too much for her and she stood up abruptly. "Commander, you have the bridge. I'll be in my ready room. Let me know instantly if anything changes."

"Aye, Captain," Kelly said, glancing at her once before taking the comm.

Janeway strode briskly into her ready room, feeling a sense of relief as the door hissed shut behind her. Here, she could pace freely, without restraint, giving in to the boiling emotions inside without having to worry about her command persona or how nervous it made her crew to see their captain prowling about like a caged animal. She was on her second circuit of the upper ramp when the door slid open to admit the ship's counselor

Janeway paused by the sofa and looked down at Kes with a foreboding expression.

"I hope you're not here to analyze me."

The Ocampa looked up at her, her head slightly tilted. "I'm your friend, Kathryn. Right now, you look as if you could use one."

Janeway frowned as she considered that, but in the end, she didn't order Kes to leave. Instead, she resumed her pacing as the other woman gracefully moved to the upper level and took a seat in the armchair. The counselor watched patiently as the captain tried to work out her agitation in constant motion, sweeping through the ready room as if she could somehow find the answer she needed if only she traveled far enough.

"Damn it, this should get easier," Janeway finally erupted "Not harder."

Kes tilted her head. "Why? Does Seven become less precious to you over time?"

The captain stopped and looked at the Ocampa. "Of course not."

"Then don't expect it to become easier." Kes smiled faintly. "We've had this conversation before, Kathryn. It doesn't change. I suspect if it ever does, it will be indicative of something being seriously wrong in your relationship with her."

"That's just wonderful," the captain growled as she resumed her pacing. Kes watched her passively, almost as if she found a sort of peace, with Janeway providing the physical outlet for whatever fears and doubts the counselor may have harbored. Eventually, the captain grew tired of the futility of it and took a seat on the sofa, regarding the ship's counselor warily.

"So you don't have any advice for me?"

Kes looked mildly surprised. "Regarding?"

"This situation. My approach to it. How I should be approaching it."

The Ocampa's smile grew. "Are you asking my professional opinion?"

"Yes."

Kes shook her head. "I won't give it. I don't take friends on as patients. It would be unwise, and I've already given you my opinion as a friend. This is just something you'll have to accept as an ongoing aggravation and learn to deal with it. You can't change it."

Janeway stared at her, nonplused. She had finally broken down enough to ask a psychologist for assistance and had been turned down flat. She had no idea what to do next, and it took a while before she could find her voice.

"Are you saying that I have no access to you as a counselor?"

"Of course not. I'm merely saying that you, as an individual, will not become my patient, but I'm more than glad to give my professional opinion regarding anything to do with the ship and its crew. Take Commander Kelly, for example."

"Would you?"

Kes smiled at the wistfulness in the captain's voice. "It's no secret that you two have been having problems. That's not a good thing on a starship, though in this case, it's less of a problem than it would be otherwise."

"Why?" Janeway was keenly interested, and if the conversation momentarily took her mind off her spouse and the potential danger Seven was in, so much the better.

"Because you're so strong as a captain, and the rest of your bridge crew is solid," Kes explained. "The crew has grown to understand that we'll be taking on a new first officer every mission. Because of that, they tend to look to Ro and Seven for secondary leadership, and to the medical sector, including myself, for emotional guidance. They really don't need a first officer."

"I'm not sure that's a good thing," the captain said dryly.

"It is," Kes insisted. "Otherwise, Kelly's difficulty in fitting in would be far more complicated, impacting on the crew far more than it does. I'm sure the same thing will happen next year, should we take on another exec." She lifted a finger for emphasis. "Starfleet can't have it both ways, Captain, and neither can you. If you want the crew to rise above the problems a temporary first officer can bring, then you can't expect them to regard the position the same way they would were an officer assigned to it permanently. They certainly can't offer it the same respect."

"I should have kept Zar," Janeway sighed, "but I couldn't justify holding him back from his first command." She shook her head. "Maybe I can convince Starfleet to assign Ro for the next mission."

Kes lifted a brow. "So you don't believe Kelly will be able to grow into the position?"

Janeway shrugged. "Honestly, I doubt it, but maybe she doesn't have to. Maybe she just needs to learn there's a lot she doesn't know before she moves on to her next assignment."

"What if they assign her to you?" Horrified, Janeway stared at her and Kes started to laugh. "There's no question that she'd learn a lot from you, especially if you can break through that wall she's created."

"It's taken me this long just to have a civil conversation with her." Janeway pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. "Damn it, Kes, aren't you supposed to be making me feel better?"

"Not as your friend, nor even if I were your psychologist, Kathryn," the Ocampa informed her. "The best I can do is offer another angle on things that you already know deep down inside, and frankly, are smart enough to figure out by yourself if you'd only try."

Janeway started to respond to that outrageous statement when there was a hail from the bridge.

"Captain, I think you'd better get out here."

Janeway was halfway to the door before she realized she had even started to move, exploding onto the bridge as if the hounds of hell were snapping at her heels.

"What is it?"

"The Delta Wing has undocked from the ship, but there are only two lifesigns on board."

"What?!?"

Kelly shot her a look as if she hoped Janeway didn't really want her to repeat it, and the captain forced herself to calm down, taking hold of her emotions with a grip of steel. "Where are the other two?"

"Still on board the vessel, near what appears to be the bridge," T'Shanik reported. "There's no atmosphere in that section, and a hull breach has exposed it to hard vacuum."

"Why are they there?"

"Undoubtedly Lt. Hansen or Commander Ro found it worth investigating," Kelly suggested quietly. "Perhaps they're attempting to download the ship's logs."

Janeway considered that as she sat down in her command chair. She was vaguely aware of Kes taking a spot at one of the auxiliary stations as the ship continued to monitor the progress of the away mission.

"What's the Delta Wing doing?"

Nog glanced over his shoulder. "There was a venting of gas twenty minutes before the flyer began to maneuver, Captain. I believe they opened the cargo bay doors to vacuum and are now attempting to enter the hold itself."

"Why?"

"Perhaps to make it easier to transfer whatever was in the cargo bay to the flyer."

Janeway propped her elbow up on the arm of her chair and rested her chin on her knuckles. "Unfortunately, we'll have to wait until they return before we know for sure."

And that was the worst part, the waiting, the never knowing, the standing by helpless to do a damn thing while Seven was gone. Kes was right. It would never change and it would never get better.

All she could hope for was that it would never get worse.

"I wish you hadn't remembered this, Seven," Ro muttered as she tried to scrap something organic off what looked like the helm.

The Starfleet officers hadn't found bodies on the bridge, only pieces of them, none of which larger than a breadbox, though Seven wasn't precisely sure what a breadbox was, only that the Bajoran had indicated these pieces were smaller than it. The Borg did not respond to what was clearly a rhetorical comment and resumed her work at another station, attempting to access the ship's computer. After so many years exposed to vacuum and the hard radiation of space, it was not cooperative, but Seven wasn't about to let an ancient and obsolete device defeat her. She'd assimilate it if she had to.

Ro finished what she was doing and moved over to the Borg, resting her hands on the console across from the young woman. "Any luck?"

"Not as yet," Seven replied absently as she focused on the panel, trying to figure out the best way to work her way into it before attempting another tact. It stubbornly resisted her efforts and in an uncharacteristic burst of anger, she slapped the metallic top, denting it significantly. "This is unacceptable!"

"Prophets."

Ro was staring at her soberly, and Seven exhaled.

"My apologies, Commander."

"No need to apologize, Seven. I've just never seen you give into frustration like that before." The Bajoran paused. "Is there something you want to talk about?"

Uncertainly, the Borg looked at her. Through the face shield, the narrow features were kind, the dark eyes compassionate. Seven did not know Ro Laren as well as she knew others in her life, certainly not as well as she did B'Elanna. There had always been a sort of aloofness to the graceful Bajoran. It wasn't intimidating, exactly, especially since Seven was intimidated by very little, but it was something she was conscious of when speaking with the older woman. It was as if she were continually dealing with a blade, razor sharp and capable of being utilized with delicate precision, yet also capable of slicing her to the bone if she were not correct in her approach.

Yet, she was someone Seven considered a friend, and she knew that Kathryn also relied on the stoic Bajoran.

"I find myself in the position of making a choice," she admitted finally. "It is affecting my emotional stability, perhaps more than I anticipated."

Ro absorbed that. "Are you and Kathryn having problems?"

"No, it is something unrelated to our relationship." She paused as she thought about it. "Though it may come to bear on our future relationship."

"Do you want to tell me what it is?"

Seven inhaled slowly. "I conferred with Dr. Pulaski regarding certain physical weaknesses that I have noticed in recent months."

Concern darkened Ro's eyes. "Are you all right, Seven? B'Elanna's told me that your implants may have long term effects on your health."

Seven resisted the urge to sigh. Everyone was far more anxious with her implants impacting on her than she was. In fact, until they started acting as human systems, she hadn't been concerned with them at all.

"My cortical node has programmed my nanoprobes and the other implants to operate within Human parameters."

Ro blinked. "Meaning?"

"They are becoming as inefficient as normal humanoid physiology."

Ro appeared to absorb that, taking her time before responding. "You don't like that."

"I find it unacceptable. I am capable of functioning at a higher level than this."

Ro nodded slowly. "So you're going to reverse the alterations." She tilted her head, staring at the Borg. "And you don't know if Kathryn's going to like it or not."

That was one thing Seven appreciated in the security officer. She usually did not require extensive explanations in order to grasp the situation.

"It is my concern."

Ro reached out and patted Seven's gloved hand somewhat clumsily, hampered by the bulky suit. The outfits were not conducive to performing delicate tasks or affectionate gestures, but the intent was clear. "Seven, I'm sure the captain will understand why you wish to do it. Being humanoid is fine if you don't have a choice, but I know very few people who would turn down superior abilities, particularly if they had already experienced them and found they were losing them."

Seven thought about it. Was she incorrect about Janeway's possible reaction? Was it possible that Ro, because of her distance from the situation, was better able to predict the captain's view of the situation that the Borg who was, admittedly, a little too close to it?

"Kathryn had nanoprobes and demanded they be removed."

The memory still stung a little, not because Seven felt Kathryn was necessarily wrong in her decision, but that it felt like a tiny rejection of herself at the time. Though she had hated what the nanoprobes had done to her spouse after universal phase shift mutated them, they also protected the captain, particularly in a prison where injuries should have killed her. Seven thought the advantages outweighed the disadvantages, and when Janeway had them cleansed from her system, she had been a little hurt, though she hadn't said anything at the time.

"You're different people, Seven, and just because Janeway wouldn't want them, doesn't mean she underestimates the importance of your being Borg."

Despite herself, Seven felt comforted by the Bajoran's words. "Thank you, Commander."

Seven saw the flash of Ro's teeth in a rare smile. "Anytime, Seven." The security officer tapped on the console, no sound issuing, though Seven could feel the vibration through her glove where it rested on the metal. "Is this really worth pursuing? Tom and B'Elanna have probably secured the bodies for transport back to Millennium. To be honest, Seven, I don't see that four hundred year old Elthanian logs from a raider ship would be particularly valuable."

Seven could not find a compelling argument against that assessment, but it wasn't the Borg's nature to walk away from knowledge of any kind. "May I make one more attempt, Commander? If we can somehow divert more power to the console, I believe I can access some of the data. It may be four hundred years old, but it could provide insight into the Elthanian culture that we were not told by the Confederation."

Ro was silent for a moment, evaluating the risk and reward factors. Perhaps if it had been someone else, she would have dismissed the request, but she knew Seven wasn't in the habit of pursing something that was completely futile.

"All right. Let me check out the gravity emitters. Maybe I can channel their power into the bridge systems."

Though the bridge was exposed to space via a gaping hole on the port side that had left mangled metal and the distant glimpse of the nebula flying lazily by as the ship slowly spun, gravity had been somehow maintained. That was probably the reason the remains were mostly in pieces, violently torn apart by the tug of war between explosive decompression and the gravity that held everything in place. Ro shot a look over her shoulder, though she could only turn her head by turning her shoulders and torso as well.

"We may have to lose gravity."

Seven magnetized her boots. "I am prepared, Commander."

"Let's do it." Using a tricorder to locate the energy circuits, Ro pried open a panel in the wall, exposing several cables and wires. Taking a spanner from her pouch, she utilized it to bypass pathways, channeling it to the console Seven was working on. "Anything?"

"Not yet, Commander. Continue your attempt."

Ro seemed to sigh, but she resumed her probing into the dark cavity. "So, what did you think when B'Elanna told you about us having children?"

Startled, Seven looked away from the console and over at the Bajoran. "Commander?"

Ro stopped and turned. "She didn't tell you?" Her tone was one of astonishment.

"She did not," Seven said positively. She wondered why that was. "When did you decide this?"

"Uh, we're just talking about it at this point." Ro's voice had altered, shading into what Seven identified as embarrassment. "Maybe that's why she didn't bring it up."

Seven considered it. "Perhaps she felt I would not react in a positive manner."

Ro sounded puzzled. "Why."

Seven's analytical brain, powered by an eidetic memory, came up with a reason almost immediately. "When I discovered the Borg had left me with an inability to bear children, I became irrational," Seven recited dispassionately. "I destroyed a large percent of the Borg alcoves on Voyager, and during our attempt to salvage the equipment, B'Elanna and I extensively discussed the various aspects of producing offspring. That discussion contributed to my later decision to delay starting a family with Kathryn. Perhaps B'Elanna feels that I would be unhappy to learn she is choosing to move forward with her family unit while I am choosing another path."

There was a pause as Ro considered that. "Are you?"

Seven lifted a brow. "My reasons for delaying procreation continue to be valid. I am pleased that you and B'Elanna do not have similar reservations and have overcome any obstacles that would delay your marital evolution." Seven smiled faintly. "I look forward to meeting the being that you and she create."

There was an expulsion of breath that came through the comm channel next to the Borg's ear.

"Commander?"

"Sorry, Seven. You just caught me off guard. We would be creating another being, wouldn't we? Talking about it is one thing. You somehow just made it real for me in a way that I haven't felt before this moment." Seven could hear her take another breath, a pause that indicated the Bajoran was gathering her thoughts. When she spoke again, there was a subtle little lilt to her tone that the Borg found intriguing. "A little girl that would be the best of me and B'Elanna. I think I like that."

Seven was about to respond when she felt another vibration through her gloves. She looked down to see lights appearing through the grime smearing the top of the panel, a festoon of activity that indicated the console was coming back online.

"Commander, I believe you have succeeded."

Ro left the panel and drifted back to the Borg, careful only to use enough force in her push to send her in that direction, not attempting to arrive any faster than she needed to. She knew basic physics as well as anyone, and the last thing she wanted was to smash into the console or Seven with too much velocity. Seven noted that it would have been more efficient for the Bajoran to walk over, using her magnetized boots, but the Bajoran apparently preferred to fly whenever she had the opportunity. It was an interesting quirk in the security chief, and one that Seven filed away as an insight into Ro's character. She glanced down at the readings on her tricorder, showing that data was being transferred from the databanks. What the information actually was could be analyzed at leisure, back on Millennium.

A sudden blip in those readings sent a chill of alarm through the Borg. "Commander," she began urgently, "there is a buildup of energy occurring in the power cells, some kind of overload..."

She did not have time to finish the warning when there was a blinding flash of light from the panel behind Ro. The explosion was soundless, and Seven was blinded as her face shield polarized an instant too late. She felt herself thrust backward, impacting on a mangled chair that caught and held her. Dazed, she blinked the spots from her vision as she struggled to free herself from the tangle of metal, careful not to tear her suit. It was difficult to gain leverage without gravity, and Seven was reminded that despite their advanced technology, minor accidents could become disastrous when dealing with the harsh, unforgiving nature of space.

"Commander?" She finished freeing herself and brought her boots down to the deck, clicking into place as she glanced wildly around the bridge. No one was there and from the corner of her eye, she caught a glitter of motion, the scintillation of light on a rapidly diminishing speck against the stars. The Starfleet officer had been blown clear of the ship and was now tumbling helplessly through space.

Seven turned her communication signal up to full, focusing it in the direction of the speck, and was relieved when she heard the feedback of breath rasping in her ear.

"Commander Ro Laren."

Ro could not seem to hear her. It was entirely possible that she had been knocked unconscious by the blast, and to Seven's considerable trepidation, a glance at her tricorder revealed that the Bajoran was drifting directly into a void bubble.

As soon as she entered that bubble, all the power to her environmental suit would be terminated.

"Commander, can you hear me?"

Groggily, Ro opened her eyes, astonished to find Seven's face only inches from hers, separated by the twin sheets of transparent aluminum. "Seven?"

"Are you all right, Commander Ro?"

"What are you doing, Seven?"

"Rescuing you."

Ro looked around, seeing only darkness surrounding them and the glint of a ship that was growing smaller with every passing second. The memory of the explosion rushed in, along with a painful throb at her temple where she must have slammed it against the inside of her helmet. She knew instantly what had happened, the knowledge causing a sick feeling to rise in her stomach.

"Who the hell is going to rescue us?"

Seven didn't respond. Perhaps she didn't have an answer at this point. Ro groaned. Janeway was going to have her hide for this one. It was bad enough that she had been blown out into space, but now Seven was out there with her, and both of them were in deadly trouble.

"Did you contact the Delta Wing?"

"There was no time," Seven told her dispassionately. "You were tumbling directly for the nearest void bubble. It was imperative that I intercept and alter your vector as quickly as possible." She paused. "We are on a heading that will intersect another dead zone, but it is of significant distance that we will have lost life support long before we reach it. Being concerned about it is irrelevant."

Ro swallowed painfully. "I suppose so."

"As for who shall rescue us, I expect the sensors on the Delta Wing will eventually detect our departure from the ship and retrieve us, hopefully before our life support has expired. I have activated our homing beacons."

"You're just a little bundle of cheer, Seven."

Still, Ro felt a little better about things. All things being equal, she was luckier than she deserved. The explosion could have ruptured her suit, and all Seven retrieved would be yet another corpse to add to the pile they had already collected. The Bajoran exhaled slowly, suddenly feeling weak. The discussion she'd had with Seven, and how having a child had abruptly become very real to her, made her realize how much she desperately wanted that future. She simply couldn't afford to die now.

She looked into the brilliant blue eyes so close to hers. "Thanks for coming after me, Annika," she said in a soft voice.

Seven inclined her head slightly. "You are welcome, Laren."

"Is there any way we can head back to the ship?"

The optical implant lifted. "Unlikely. Our suits are equipped with the most basic of positioning thrusters. I depleted my fuel cell in the attempt to intercept you. Yours was exhausted in order to alter our trajectory away from the warp bubble. Unfortunately, neither of us is wearing the thruster units utilized by deep space workers that would enable us to maneuver through space."

"Definitely an oversight on my part. I should have anticipated that this could happen, knowing how much of the ship had been hulled, and made sure we were wearing them."

"Wearing such bulky devices would have made it difficult to work within the confines of the derelict. If anyone is to blame for our current predicament, it is I for insisting we search the hulled areas for remains," Seven reminded her. "And requesting additional power in order to retrieve data that may or may not prove useful, resulting in the explosion."

"I'm in command of the away mission, Seven. It begins and ends with me."

Seven opened her mouth as if to respond, hesitated, and then nodded briefly. If anyone understood the demand of leadership, it was her, an intimate observer of what command required of the people who bore it.

Ro shifted her head to the left, finding her drinking tube and swallowing a cool mouthful of water that did wonders for her parched throat. Their suits, designed for both space and planetary away missions, were fully equipped with enough water and rations for a week. They would run out of breathable atmosphere long before they starved or died of thirst. Another twitch of the Bajoran's chin brought up the readings on the operational systems. According to the holographic display, she still had another full tank of air left, even though she had been working hard in the cargo bay. She suspected Seven had just as much, if not more, since the Borg wasn't in the habit of breathing hard.

Both women should be good for another eight to ten hours, at least. She noted that Seven had clipped them together by the hooks on their belts, meant primarily for attaching safety lines. Another oversight on her part, the Bajoran thought regretfully. It occurred to her that sometimes one became so comfortable working in the confines of a starship, confident in the convenience of the transporter system, it was easy to forget how dangerous it was outside the hull. Space didn't allow for mistakes.

Ro sighed. Either they would be rescued or they would die. It was out of their hands at this point.

She looked back at Seven. The Borg's eyes were distant, as if she were lost in thoughts of deep import, and the Bajoran wondered if she was calculating some impossible equation that would lead to a scientific breakthrough of immense proportions. Or perhaps she was merely contemplating the wonder of the nebula surrounding them. It was hard to tell with the young woman sometimes.

"A penny, Seven."

Those laser eyes immediately focused on Ro, and as always, the Bajoran was impressed by the sheer intensity of that analytical gaze. "Commander?"

"We don't have much else to do out here except talk. I was curious what you were thinking about."

"Many things," Seven admitted. "Primarily Kathryn. Millennium will have detected our situation with the long range sensors by now. The captain will undoubtedly be attempting to implement a course that will allow the ship to enter this area and rescue us."

Ro could see the captain's agitation in her mind's eye, and she was suddenly glad she was stranded in space rather than on Millennium's bridge. "Is that possible?"

"No," Seven said with certainty. "The void bubbles are too densely situated around this area. While the Delta Wing could maneuver through them, Millennium is too large to do so safely." She paused. "She will not risk the ship for the sake of two crewmembers."

"Not even if one of them is you?"

"Not even then." Seven tilted her head. "But it will not be easy for her."

Ro nodded sagely. "I think that's probably an understatement."

The corner of Seven's mouth twitched, a smile edging her full lips. "It will be less easy for the crew. She will be absolutely impossible for the remainder of this away mission."

Despite the situation, Ro smiled. "That's too bad because I had the sense that she and Kelly had finally reached something of an understanding over the personnel files this morning. There's bound to be a personality clash. The captain can become more than a little formidable when things don't go her way, and our first officer has a special knack when it comes to irritating Janeway. I've never seen anyone manage to do it so thoroughly." Ro stopped and inclined her head. "Present company excluded, of course."

Seven looked amused. "Of course."

"I wonder why that is?" Ro mused. "I mean, Kelly has her faults, but overall, she's not that bad an officer. She just needs some proper seasoning."

"She conducts herself with what can only be perceived as arrogance." Seven lifted her chin. "Arrogance incites Kathryn, in a way that other personality traits do not."

"Why?" Ro was fascinated, and it overcame her natural reluctance to pry into things that might not concern her. Seven was the one person on the ship who had a special insight into the captain, and to be allowed a glimpse of it was too intriguing to resist.

Seven looked thoughtful. "Possibly because of her own personality. I am conscious that the traits we find most irritating in other people, are the traits we feel uncomfortable with in ourselves. Kathryn has overstepped the bounds of confidence into arrogance more than once. Need I remind you of Balleyport Station and a certain bar brawl, Laren?"

Ro winced. "Not at all," she said wryly. "That's one memory that will stay with me forever." A sudden image of Janeway being picked up by the scruff of her neck and the seat of her pants, and sent skidding down the length of an alien bar, a wave of assorted liquor in her wake, filled Ro's mind, and she had to stifle the sudden urge to laugh.

Seven's smile was suddenly tinged with a bit of sadness. "I did not fully comprehend her reasoning at the time, but since then, I have come to understand why Kathryn does the things she does. It springs from a deep-seated need to hold on to herself when it feels as if all things around her are changing and forcing her to change with them. It is not unlike how I have been feeling in recent weeks."

Ro felt a pang of sympathy. "It's hard to hold onto yourself at times," she agreed. "Especially when you're not entirely sure what that self is supposed to be."

Seven regarded her curiously. "Is it something you have experienced, Laren?"

"On occasion," the Bajoran admitted. "Maybe more times than I want to admit." She shook her head. "I think that we all go through various stages in our life, Seven. I'm about to begin yet another one by creating a family with B'Elanna. You're becoming more sure about who and what you want to be. In the end, we just have to adapt to such personal evolution the best way we know how and go on from there."

"You are correct, but it is not always easy."

Ro grinned. "I never said it was easy."

There was a pause as they drifted for a few moments, contemplating the nebula. They were still tumbling, but not enough to make the Bajoran ill, just a lazy spin through the darkness. It would almost be pleasant if the circumstances weren't so dire. Ro was becoming a little concerned. She would have thought the Delta Wing would have been on its way to their position by now, but every time the derelict swung into view, there was no indication that the shuttle had left the cargo bay.

"What the hell is taking so long?" she muttered.

"They are undoubtedly securing the cargo net," Seven assured her. "It will not be easy to disembark from the vessel and will take skilled piloting."

"A good thing we have Tom along then."

Quizzically, Seven's eyes met hers. "Do you mean that, Laren? I was under the impression that you did not like Lt. Paris."

"I don't," Ro admitted. "I hate that he hurt B'Elanna so badly, but even if he hadn't, there's just something about him that rubs me the wrong way. We're never going to be friends. Still, he's a good pilot, one of the best, and right now, I'm counting on him to be able to pick us up with as little fuss as possible."

Over Seven's shoulder, she saw a glint of something, rapidly growing larger, and was relieved to know her faith in Paris's piloting abilities weren't unwarranted.

"What did I tell you?"

"So it would seem, Commander." Seven lifted her head, and Ro realized the Borg was watching the approaching shuttle in the reflection of the Bajoran's face shield.

With a minimum of effort that belied the sheer difficulty of the vectors and velocity equations involved, the flyer slowed to position beside the two women, drifting through space at the same rate as the officers. Stretched out behind, the huge net cradled the morbid cargo, and the Bajoran wondered if she and Seven would have to hitch a ride by grabbing onto the fibers. Then she saw the hatch on this side of the flyer slide silently open. A figure gestured within the shadowed airlock, and a silvery line snaked out toward them.

Seven reached out and snagged it, grasping it firmly with her left hand. Ro, knowing the Borg was much better at this sort of thing, remained still and tried not to interfere as they were pulled into the airlock by the other Starfleet officer. It occurred to the Bajoran, after the fact, that Captain Janeway wouldn't be the only one upset at the security chief's sudden departure into deep space.

One look at B'Elanna's face as she entered the airlock made Ro wonder if it wouldn't have been safer to stay outside.

The away team's report of all that had occurred on the Elthanian vessel made Janeway feel as if her head would explode. All Millennium's crew could tell from the long range sensors was that two of the away team had been catapulted into space by some form of onboard explosion. Had the captain known one of them had been Seven, she would have been infinitely more worried. Without knowing it, she had forced Nog and Kelly to plot one course after another into the clear zone, each proving too dangerous for the starship to attempt, which Nog promptly pointed out while Kelly indicated she was more than willing to try. If it hadn't been for Kes deflecting some of the Janeway's aggravation with a calm word, and mediating between Nog and Kelly, the damage done to the bridge crew's morale could have been severe. As it was, there was no question in Janeway's mind that the ship's counselor had prevented all the progress the captain had made with her exec from becoming undone in the uncertain atmosphere of short tempers and conflicted personalities.

When the sensors finally recorded the Delta Wing's rescue of the two officers, the sheer relief left Janeway slumped in her chair on the bridge, hopeful that at least part of her command persona remained intact.

Now there were a hundred or so Raelien corpses in the Beta Hanger Deck being interred into casings as respectfully as possible while Ambassador Jiidan tried to come up with the most advantageous way to return them to their people. The Elthanian remains were also placed in proper receptacles for their return to the Confederacy, though Janeway was feeling much less respectful of them, especially after viewing the visual logs that were taken over on the derelict during the debriefing of the away team

It was late when she and Seven finally returned to their quarters. Janeway was still agitated from her day, her fear for her spouse still strong, and it displayed itself with an ongoing diatribe against the Elthanians that was finally interrupted by an interjection of Seven's devastating logic.

"What were Humans doing four hundred years ago, Kathryn?"

Janeway paused at the kitchenette counter where she was pouring wine into a glass, turning to look at the Borg. "What do you mean?"

Seven was sitting in the armchair, examining the captain with a mild frown. "It was the 20th Century. Shall we make a list, Kathryn? World War I. World War II. The Korean War. The Vietnam War. The Gulf War. Bosnia. Shall we examine the depravation of the Holocaust? Rwanda? Afghanistan? Cambodia? Armenian genocide? Somalia? The Soviet Union under Stalin? And what of the 21st century, only 300 years ago, beginning with the atrocities in Iran? Do you truly believe that Humans are so morally superior to the Elthanians that you have the right to condemn them?"

Her tone was not light, nor was she teasing. She was deadly serious, and the captain took a slow sip of her drink before responding.

"I guess, when you put it that way, I can't."

"Then do stop going on about it, Kathryn. In truth, you persist in this attitude toward the Elthania only because of your personal dislike for Tazna Jade."

Janeway's chin went up, jaw stiffening. "Is that what you think?"

Seven tilted her head. "Is it an inaccurate assessment?"

Janeway hesitated too long before she responded, and then it was too late. Seven cast a penetrating look that cut the captain right to the bone and rose gracefully from her chair, disappearing into the bedroom. It seemed to Janeway that she was losing entirely too many of these little arguments lately. It made her worry that when it came to a big one, she wouldn't have the resources or the skills to hold her ground and win.

Vowing to pick her spots better in the future, she took her time to finish her wine before finally following Seven into the bedroom. The Borg had finished in the ensuite and was now at her side of the bed, dressed in a long, silken crimson robe. The young woman looked at the captain as she hesitated in the entrance.

"Are you coming to bed, Kathryn?"

Janeway leaned against the door frame. "That depends."

"On what?"

"On whether you're still angry with me or not."

The cranial implant lifted. "I am not now, nor was I angry with you, Kathryn." She tilted her head slightly. "Occasionally, your obstinate nature is annoying, but it is completely within your nature. I am quite accustomed to it by now."

"I'm not sure how to respond to that," Janeway said dryly. In truth, she was a little disconcerted. Seven wasn't acting like herself. There was something about her that the captain couldn't quite recognize.

A small twitch curled Seven's generous mouth and she held out her hand. "Come here, Kathryn."

Janeway dipped her head, looking at her from beneath lowered lashes, but moved quickly enough across the room to accept the outstretched hand. Seven drew her into a warm hug, tucking her up under her chin, and the captain exhaled slowly, feeling the tension of the past day drain away as she settled into the embrace. Suddenly, the Elthanians, the nebula, Kiara Kelly, and even the ship, were the last things on her mind.

"I missed you, my darling," she whispered.

"I know," Seven responded quietly. She paused, holding the captain tightly to her. "I need to speak with you, Kathryn."

Janeway closed her eyes as she rested her head on Seven's chest. "I thought you were speaking to me. Or at least, at me."

Seven made a small sound. It might have been amusement, but it might not have been, and Janeway drew back to look up into the narrow features, searching the brilliant eyes that were intently serious. A sudden pang of concern tightened her jaw. "What is it?"

"I need your undivided attention."

"You have it." Janeway remembered how the morning had started, how she had felt the young woman had been not herself, as if something had been bothering her. She hadn't the opportunity to follow up on it, and now she worried that it was too late to change what had already been put into motion. For some reason, she had this odd feeling that Seven was going to tell her something she didn't want to hear.

Seven tilted her head. "Over here." She motioned at the little used sitting area in the bedroom. There was a sort of vulnerability in her face that Janeway couldn't identify. "Please, Kathryn."

"Of course, darling. Whatever you want." Feeling extremely uneasy, the captain took a seat in one of the small chairs and watched the Borg follow suit.

Seven leaned forward in the opposite chair, taking Janeway's hands in her own, her gaze focused completely on the captain. "Earlier today, before our away mission, I conferred with Dr. Pulaski."

A thrill of fear lanced through Janeway, but with an effort, she kept her face expressionless. "And?" She had trouble breathing with the sudden tightness in her chest.

"I was concerned about my recent sleeping patterns and various other symptoms that have disturbed me."

"Why haven't you told me about this before?"

Seven frowned. "You are aware that I can no longer function as I did when I was Borg."

"Yes, but what's wrong with you?" It was hard for the captain to keep an even tone to her voice. She wanted to scream.

"It has been determined that my nanoprobes and implants are being programmed by my cortical nodes to perform as Human systems. I am unable to go without sleep. I experience allergic reactions. I am unable to moderate my bodily functions. In short, I am being modified into a Humanoid, though it is Borg technology rather than human organs that function within me. The process is not yet complete, but the doctor believes that eventually, I will become as human as you are."

Relief flooded the captain, like liquid quicksilver. "My god, Annika, that's wonderful." She was stopped by the expression on the young woman's face. "It's not wonderful?"

Seven's face tightened, as if she were preparing herself for what was to come.

"I do not wish to be Human."

For an instant, Janeway was back in the brig, facing a distraught and angered Borg drone, recently severed from the Collective, terrified of the changes she was facing ... that a Starfleet captain was forcing her to face.

"I think I need a little more, Annika," she said slowly, struggling to understand.

Seven inhaled slowly. "It is exceedingly inefficient, Kathryn. My implants are capable of performing at a much higher level. I possess a superior skeletal and muscular structure, providing great strength and endurance. My sense of hearing and visual acuity can be enhanced exponentially. My nanoprobes allow for excellent healing ability, with a powerful immune system. It is inefficient for me to operate as a mere Human." She caught the captain's gaze, holding it with the intensity of her own. "I have decided to consciously reprogram my cortical node in order to return my systems to their full operational capacity."

Janeway stared at her blankly as she examined what her partner was telling her. "Is that what this is all about, Annika? My God, you damned near scared me to death. I thought you were going to tell me your implants were breaking down."

Bemused, the Borg regarded her. "Kathryn?"

Janeway took a breath, focusing on the issue that was most important to her. "How will this affect your long term health?"

Seven considered it. "I anticipate that it would improve over the long term due to a superior immune system." She paused. "I know this decision must be disappointing to you, but it is my decision, Kathryn. You cannot change my mind."

Surprised, Janeway felt the words finally penetrate her concern. Studying her, she realized the Borg had actually thought she would be opposed to what Seven would choose to do with her own body. Taking another moment to consider it, the captain realized the young woman might have reason to think that way, and abashed, she reached over to rest her hand on Seven's knee.

"Of course, it's your decision. I wouldn't presume to infringe on that."

Seven blinked, uncertain. "I will be a different person than who I was becoming, Kathryn. I will no longer evolve as anticipated."

The captain frowned. "Why would you think that, Seven? What makes us human can't simply be a matter of this organic shell that we wear, or in your case, the organic/mechanical shell. It has to be what's in our hearts and minds and souls. Didn't we learn this when I switched bodies with B'Elanna? It's not the outside that counts. It's the inside."

Seven frowned. "It is not that simple, Kathryn. Our physicality determines what kind of people we are as much as our emotional or intellectual state." She paused. "If you had not been able to switch back with B'Elanna, you would be a different person today. You would evolve not only from your experiences, but how the functionality of your body affected those experiences."

"You don't believe mind over matter?" Janeway regarded her with soft eyes. "You don't think that who I am would have won out over a Klingon physiology?"

Seven searched for the words to explain. "You would still be Kathryn, but you would be a Kathryn who is physically stronger, almost as strong as I am, along with an aggressive nature built into your hormonal system, constantly impacting on your actions. Your choices would be different in specific situations. Do you honestly believe such influences would not affect the person you would become over time?"

Janeway exhaled slowly. "I suppose you're right, but we're not talking about such a radical change here, Seven. We're talking about you going back to what you've already been." She reached up to touch Seven's chin, fingertip on the small dimple there. "From the time I've met you, you've always been this wonderful, fascinating, completely captivating woman, one that I've come to love with all my heart. Whether your body is mostly Borg or completely human, you're still that woman deep inside."

Seven stared at her. "You surprise me," she said finally.

The captain smiled. "Perhaps you don't know me as well as you think you do."

Seven absorbed that, not entirely happy at the thought, but going so far as to entertain it. "Perhaps not." She didn't look as if she believed it, though.

Janeway took Seven's hands. "Darling, no matter what else, I just want you to be happy. You've not been happy lately. I don't think I truly realized it until now, but it's clear that this is a decision you have to make. I'd be a pretty poor spouse if I wasn't prepared to support that completely."

Seven didn't respond immediately, searching Janeway's face as if trying to determine if the captain was truly sincere in her words. Finally, she leaned forward and kissed Janeway tenderly, her mouth lingering on the captain's.

"I love you, Kathryn."

Janeway slipped her hand to the back of Seven's neck, pulling her in for another kiss, trying to communicate all her love and caring through the touch. "I love you, too, Sweetheart, more than you'll ever know."

She kissed her again, and drew back to touch her forehead to the Borg's, leaning against her. She could feel the weariness suddenly emanating from the young woman, as if the events of the long day had finally caught up to her. The captain suspected that Seven had been so keyed up about telling her spouse about her decision, she had nothing left now that the conversation was over. Janeway nuzzled her cheek. "Come to bed, love. You need your sleep."

Seven opened her eyes and smiled. "For now."

Janeway laughed as she stood up, pulling the Borg to her feet "Just because you've decided to rev up your nanoprobes doesn't mean I'm going to let you push beyond the limits of your capabilities. No matter how superior they may make you, there's still a large part of you that's purely organic ... that's purely Human." She took Seven's hand and led her over to the bed.

"That part will always need me looking after it."

Seven of Nine opened her eyes, immediately aware of the warm, compact form curled up next to her, feeling an unmistakable tingle radiate through her body where the soft skin pressed against her own. With a soft sigh, she wrapped herself around Janeway from behind, tucking her knees up under the captain's. Her hands slid up to cup the small breasts, squeezing them as she nuzzled into Janeway's neck, toying with the nipples lightly, rolling them between her fingers.

Janeway made a small sound, half protest, half anticipation as she stirred, abruptly pulled from her slumber. It wasn't quite one of Seven's 'wake-up calls'. She was being too aggressive, less concerned with drawing the captain slowly from sleep into delight, and more intent on sharing pleasure before they had to report for duty. Nor was it particularly romantic, but it was what the Borg needed at the moment, especially since she had been too tired the night before to show her appreciation for a most perfect spouse. Fortunately, Janeway appeared to share the desire rising in her partner and responded immediately, reaching back to stroke Seven's hip in a familiar gesture to indicate she was interested.

"Darling?"

The voice was husky and low, and when Seven urged her over onto her back, she readily cooperated. Leaning down to kiss her passionately, the Borg was pleased when Janeway's arms immediately slipped around her neck, holding her tight as she returned the kiss with every evidence of passion. Seven settled onto the compact body, spreading her legs as the captain pressed her thigh against the Borg's juncture, allowing her to slide along the smooth, soft skin. Enjoying the pleasure that rippled through her, Seven groaned, rubbing against the delicious contact as she felt the nodule swell and become more sensitive. Moisture was generated, making it easier to slide, but decreasing the friction, making it harder to sustain.

"Not enough," she gasped, rocking harder as she pursued the elusive pleasure.

"Easy, love," Janeway soothed, reaching down between them to replace her leg with her fingers, somehow knowing how much her partner needed her at the moment. "Slow down a bit. Let me touch you."

Seven relaxed slightly, easing down onto her right hip so that her weight wasn't on the captain, bending her knee across her partner's pelvis to give Janeway complete access. "Better," she murmured as she felt the gentle fingertips swirl over her throbbing center, sliding easily in the lavish lubrication.

"Yes," Janeway agreed throatily as she studied Seven's face, her eyes lidded. "Much better." Her touch grew firmer. "Does that feel good, love?"

Seven whimpered, dropping her head to the captain's shoulder, trembling as the sensation increased under Janeway's skilled fingers. "It feels wonderful. I want you so much."

"I want you, too, my darling," Janeway told her quietly. "It feels marvelous to touch you like this, to know how aroused you are being with me."

Seven quivered, pressing closer to her partner as Janeway's other arm slipped around her back, pulling her close. Her face was buried in the captain's hair, her lips next to Janeway's ear.

"Kathryn," she breathed. "Oh, Kathryn."

Janeway made a small sound of pure pleasure as she carefully pushed her middle finger into the Borg, penetrating slowly into the moist heat.

"God, it feels so good to be inside you like this. You're so hot ... so wet." Her thumb continued to ply the Borg's ridge, rubbing it briskly back and forth as she flexed within the tightness. Sliding deeper, she was able to brush the tip of her finger over the blockage inside, targeting the internal nerve endings, tickling the spot she knew would bring a satisfactory conclusion to Seven's desire. "Do you feel that, Annika? Do you feel me inside you?"

Seven didn't think that her spouse required a verbal response, or at least, she hoped she didn't. The feelings were too intense, too utterly delightful for her to formulate any kind of coherent reply. She groaned long and loud as she felt the sensation shiver through her, the pleasure rippling in strong waves. Contracting around the long, lovely finger, she could feel the nascence tremors of orgasm ripple through her groin.

"That's it, darling," Janeway whispered hotly. "Let yourself go. Let yourself feel it. I'm here for you." She nipped the Borg's earlobe. "Come for me."

Seven arched against her lover, unable to resist as she lost herself in the pleasure. Janeway continued to whisper endearments, words of love and desire, until finally, slowly, the surge of delight receded. Head resting on the captain's chest, Seven felt Janeway stroke her hair lightly with her left hand, still intimately connected to her with her right.

"Was it good, darling?"

"It was wonderful, Kathryn," Seven murmured, finally finding her voice again. She lifted her head to look at her spouse. "Thank you."

Janeway grinned crookedly. "You're most welcome, my love."

Seven returned her smile, looking into the eyes that were more blue than grey.

"I will never lose this part of my humanity," she promised softly.

"I intend to hold you to that, my sweet."

Janeway kissed her lovingly as she withdrew her hand from between Seven's legs and ran it over her hip to the small of her back, pulling the Borg close to her. Seven immediately moved over onto the captain, supporting herself on her elbows as she slipped her arms beneath Janeway's shoulder blades. With deliberate tenderness, she bent her head to lightly kiss her spouse, then again, a little deeper and with more passion. Janeway made a soft hum of delight in the back of her throat, a sound of need and desire as she returned the kisses, mouth open, eagerly accepting the Borg's touch.

Seven wished they could stay like this forever. But the moments were passing and too soon, the computer would offer its morning announcement, demanding they leave this warm haven and attend to duty. Still, Seven took her time as she traced a delicate trail down the captain's throat, pausing to nuzzle those small, perfect breasts for as long as it took to lift Janeway to a state of complete readiness. When she finally resumed her lazy journey, mouthing over the soft swell of the captain's stomach to that auburn thatch at the juncture of her legs, Janeway was panting audibly, the sound of her breathing interspersed with low cries and moans.

Her flavor was musky, a familiar and delectable taste on the Borg's tongue. Seven's tongue delved deeply into her lover's depths before concentrating her attention on the tiny little ridge that swelled delicately under her touch. Bringing her right hand into play, she slowly pushed two fingers into Janeway, hearing her groan loudly with pleasure at the penetration. Flexing steadily, her lips and tongue never still, she built the captain's desire until Janeway hovered on the brink, steady shudders rippling through her body. With a secret smile, Seven covered the tender flesh, sucking forcefully while at the same time, she pressed her fingertips on that spot inside Janeway. The reaction was immediate; a lurch of hips, a happy cry of delight, and a surge through the compact body that could not be mistaken for anything else.

Seven guided her through it, maintaining her caress until it became too much and Janeway made a soft, inarticulate sound to indicate she was done. Seven moved to withdraw, but was stopped as the captain quickly reached down, holding her in place.

"Stay," she commanded huskily, "just a little longer."

Seven glanced up at the bluish eyes, smiled briefly, and rested her head on the captain's abdomen, the skin soft beneath her cheek. She could feel Janeway contract sweetly around her fingers as they prolonged their connection for a few more precious moments. Given enough time, Seven knew the captain could even reach a climax like this, not requiring the Borg to do anything more than simply be inside her. Beneath her ear, the Borg could detect the soft gurgles and swishes of Janeway's internal organs, the steady throb of blood through her circulatory system.

After a short period of peace, with Janeway gently stroking Seven's cheek as the Borg remained inside her, the computer inevitably announced the time and forced them to disengage. Seven grasped Janeway's ankle as the captain attempted to crawl out of bed, halting her motion. Confused, Janeway looked back over her shoulder at the Borg.

"You are perfection, my Kathryn."

Janeway smiled and reached back, touching Seven's chin.

"So are you, love."

Seven rolled out of bed and pulled on her robe, belting it about her waist as she padded out to the living area. She felt fabulous, energized by the early morning encounter with her beloved spouse. It felt as if a great weight had lifted from her shoulders, and she sang softly under her breath as she prepared a lavish breakfast for the captain. Janeway offered her a warm smile as she exited the bedroom, showered and dressed in her uniform. Her thick auburn hair reached her collar and Seven brushed it aside to draw her fingers lingeringly along the back of the captain's neck as she placed her meal on the table. Janeway gave a pleasant little shiver in her chair. Both caress and response were such a familiar exchange between them, they usually did not require any more recognition, but this morning, Seven followed up the touch by bending down and brushing her lips over the soft skin.

"I do love you, my Kathryn," she whispered softly.

"I know, darling," Janeway said quietly, not turning her head. "Sometimes, that knowledge is the only thing that gets me through."

Seven hugged her briefly, knowing how difficult it was for her spouse when the Borg was on a dangerous away mission, leaving her helpless to do anything about it. Janeway's fear would never change, but then, neither would Seven's conviction that she would come through it intact. She supposed that when the doubts of her own competence arose, when she felt she could no longer be so efficient, that would be the time for her to refuse the mission. She wasn't sure what would happen in that event, and now that she would be regaining her previous enhancements, she doubted it ever would.

She kissed the nap of Janeway's neck once more before leaving to return to the ensuite where she showered quickly and dressed. By the time she returned to the living area, the captain had pushed aside her plate and was sipping coffee as she perused the padd containing the night watch reports.

"I hope you're not planning on reporting for duty," Janeway said absently. "You're accorded two off days after an away mission."

Seven shot her a look as she sat down to her breakfast. "That is not required in this case." When the bluish-grey eyes flew up to meet hers, she smiled briefly. "I would prefer to utilize those two days for us, once we clear the nebula."

The protest on those classic features faded, and a somewhat sheepish smile touched the captain's lips. "Two whole days together, my love. I'll make sure of it."

"You are prepared to allow Commander Kelly to take command for that long?"

The captain flicked an eyebrow. "Of course. She needs to take the conn sometime."

Seven hesitated, staring at her. "Kathryn?"

Janeway blinked, her countenance bland and innocent. "Yes?"

The Borg evaluated the captain's expression. She knew she was being teased, but wasn't quite sure how or what she should do to counter it. "What exactly was in the personnel files you went over with Kelly?"

Janeway laughed. "Let's just say we've come to a little bit of an understanding. Enough for me to see what will happen if I give her a bit more rope."

"Rope?"

"She'll either figure out her parameters ... or she'll hang herself."

Seven made a face. "Charming."

Janeway laughed again and finished her coffee. The morning had apparently energized her as well, because she bounded from her chair and went into the ensuite for the rest of her ablutions. Seven smiled and finished her breakfast, enjoying the subtle texture of multi-grain cereal before clearing away the dishes. She quickly made up the captain's thermos, leaving it on the counter by the turbolift before finished her own preparations for the day.

Janeway was entering the turbolift when the Borg caught up to her, pulling her to her in a powerful embrace.

"Darling?"

Seven looked down at her possessively. "You have always been the Human part of me, Kathryn. That shall never change."

The captain hugged her. "You've been the Human part of me, my love, in more ways than one. I guess that means we'll always need each other."

Seven found that acceptable. Bending her head, she covered the soft lips with her own, extending the kiss until her spouse was breathless and even Seven found it necessary to increase her respiratory intake. They kissed again, then again, before the young woman reluctantly let her go.

"Have a productive day, Kathryn."

"You too, love. Try not to assimilate the crew." The captain shot her an impish look.

"That depends solely upon their continued efficiency," the Borg told her gravely.

The musical laugh lingered in the young woman's enhanced hearing as the turbolift door slid shut. As she left their quarters, intent on the day ahead, Seven of Nine smiled.

** Epilogue **

Kelly felt M'Reek's eyes on her, and she tried not to feel self conscious as she prodded at her meal. Around them, the civilian lounge provided a quieter, more relaxing evening than the Nexus, and the first officer was glad M'Reek had suggested they come here for their dinner, though the sedate surroundings left little distraction but each other. That made her a little nervous.

"Pretty exciting day, yesterday." He offered a smile.

"Aren't they all," she said dryly.

He laughed. "That's Starfleet. Periods of unrelenting tedium broken up by bouts of sheer terror. Didn't they tell you that at the Academy?"

"I think they did," she agreed. She picked up her wine glass. "Here's to some tedium."

She clinked her glass against his and sipped from it, eyeing him surreptitiously over the rim. He really was a most attractive man.

And she thought about all the possibilities that lay ahead.

•  The End

This is the 15th installment in the Millennium series.

•  Dedicated to Dru and Susan.

•  It was posted to the net on July 21, 2004.

Persistent Priorities
G. L. Dartt

She rolled over, stretching out a hand to encounter the still warm area on the mattress next to her. A smile edged her lips, tinged with regret for the lost opportunity for early morning delight, but warm with love and contentment. She listened intently for the moment, trying to detect some noise that indicated her spouse was still home, but finally realized by the lateness of the hour that he was most likely on his way to San Francisco by now.

Inhaling slowly, she stretched luxuriously on the bed before finally rising, moving over to the window where she drew back the curtains. A light mist hung low over the fields, hovering over the still stalks of green and granting an almost mystical air to the Midwestern farmland. From the garden by the house, just below her bedroom window, the scent of blooming roses filled her nostrils.

Gretchen Patterson enjoyed the view for a moment, feeling renewed as always by her close connection to the land, before she moved away from the window and into the bathroom connected to the house's main bedroom. Two fresh towels lay neatly on the toilet tank, thoughtfully put out for her by her husband who had cleaned up after his earlier ablutions. Smiling fondly, she drew back the glass doors leading into the shower and turned on the taps, stepping under the gush of hot water. Twenty minutes later, she was back in the bedroom, pulling on a pair of simple denim trousers and a tan, short-sleeved shirt cut in a western style.

Downstairs, she discovered that Michael had left out the toaster and hadn't put away the bread, but since she intended to use both, she supposed she couldn't fault him for it. It was still an adjustment having someone around after so long without, but she was becoming accustomed to it after almost two years of marriage. She supposed that he was still adjusting as well.

As she retrieved some eggs from the refrigerator, she noticed a lone figure crossing the lawn and took out a few more. Phoebe had developed the habit of having breakfast with her mother ever since her return from Paris a month or so earlier. Gretchen suspected it was part of the young woman's recovery process after her breakup with Pierre that, although mutual, was still a little painful.

Cracking the eggs into a bowl, Gretchen added some strips of ham and peppers. In the frying pan, fresh mushrooms were sauteing in butter, filling the air with their sizzle. The screen door abruptly flipped open behind where she worked at the stove. She threw a smile over her shoulder at her tall, grey-eyed daughter whose dark auburn hair cascaded gloriously down her back. Phoebe had turned out to be the beauty in the family. It, combined with her wild spirit and forthright attitude while growing up, had caused her parents no little concern and just as much delight. That spirit had been somewhat dampened in recent months, but she wasn't the sort to be kept down long. She simply needed to realize that her French lover wasn't the only fish in the sea, and that there were plenty more out there, just waiting to be netted.

"What's on the grill, Mom?"

"A Western omelet." Gretchen gestured at the fridge with the spatula. "Get the juice and make the coffee." A big breakfast was a Janeway family tradition, and this was no different.

As the two women sat down to the repast, Gretchen stole a quick glance at her youngest daughter. There were still a few shadows crossing those level gray eyes, but over all, Phoebe seemed to be more like her old self.

"What have you planned for today?" Very early in Phoebe's artistic career, she had learned not to ask how the painting was going. A period of emotional instability could result in the young artist unable to pick up a brush, or conversely, inspired to create exceptional work that kept her at the canvas around the clock. In either case, Phoebe never wanted to talk about it.

"I think I'll pop over to the market. I need to pick up a few things."

Gretchen eyed her measuringly. "Want some company?" She wasn't sure Phoebe would want her mother tagging along, but she needed some time with her daughter that was purely frivolous. "In fact, why don't we take the hovercraft to Portage Creek and do some real shopping?"

Phoebe blinked, considered it and smiled. "Actually, that sounds like fun." She did not mention that she had just spent a year in Paris where the shopping was exquisite, so Gretchen decided she was being kind. But that was all right as long as it afforded them the opportunity to spend the day together.

"I have to feed the dogs. I'll meet you back here."

Once Phoebe had left for her own house across the way, Gretchen cleaned up the kitchen, before popping upstairs for a navy blazer to go over her shirt. She brushed out her short shock of snowy white hair, and then went outside to the small building where her hovercraft was kept. Her daughter was already there, leaning casually against the corner as she threw a stick to her two Irish Setters, keeping them entertained.

There was a third dog, another reddish-coated animal that strongly resembled the other two, in one way, more than he should. Originally belonging to Gretchen's oldest daughter, Kathryn, and her spouse, Annika, Jake had been left behind when they returned to space with Millennium. Gretchen was becoming a little concerned about him. Since this last visit home, when the couple spent three months leave before heading out once again, the dog had seemed dispirited and listless. Even now, he lay on the grass, watching the other two romp, rather than joining in.

She paused to pat him, leaning down to stroke his head, and he looked up at her, his big brown eyes moist and sad. She offered him a wry smile.

"Sorry, boy. Annika won't be back for another few months."

"You really think he's pining over them?" Phoebe asked curiously.

"The vet says there's nothing physically wrong with him," Gretchen told her as she opened the large doors to the out building, revealing the silvery form of an archaic hovercraft. It was probably her only concession to modernism. That and the security system her husband had installed on the farm that she rarely remembered to activate. "And it's not 'them', it's her, Annika. He never left her side the last time she was home."

Phoebe laughed. "I noticed that. He adores her."

Gretchen smiled and slipped into the driver's seat of the hovercraft before Phoebe could get there. She knew better than to let the young woman take the helm. The younger woman disdained the use of the autopilot, having a decided need for speed, and it actually scared her mother to be the helpless passenger with Phoebe at the controls.

After guiding the craft down the graveled driveway and out onto the grassy field beyond the fence bordering the front yard, Gretchen programmed in the coordinates for Portage Creek. Activating the autopilot, she removed her hands from the controls, leaning back to enjoy the ride. Phoebe shot her a grin, well aware of how little her mother appreciated her piloting skills, and relaxed as well, her hair streaming in the breeze that eased the intensity of the sun's rays. It was going to be a hot, humid day, and Gretchen was looking forward to the stores in town where the internal environmental controls would already be activated.

They left the outer boundaries of the Brown County Agricultural Park, the corn fields giving way to a grassy trail lined with navigational beacons that wound through a 30 kilometer swath of forest bordering the park. This was an area of trees and meadows left as a wildlife preserve, that also served to protect the park's farmlands from the residential communities spreading out from the city of Portage Creek. Shortly after entering the wild area, they encountered some people in a clearing beside the track. Gretchen wasn't sure if the campers were from the park or Portage Creek, but from the tents set up by a nearby stream and the state of the campsite, it looked as if they had been roughing it for a while.

Gretchen lifted a brow. She was a Traditionalist, but some people just took it to extremes. She liked her nice comfortable mattress at night and a roof over her head, not the thin layer of a tent, no matter how advanced such equipment had become over the years.

She reached forward and took the controls when she saw that one of the people was down on the ground, clutching an ankle, with the others grouped loosely around him, as if uncertain what to do. Obviously they were in trouble and her first instinct was to offer help. She was aware that it would be easy enough for them to contact Portage Creek and arrange for a transport if someone was hurt, but she also knew that if the campers were from the park, they might not have communicators. Not the smartest choice of action, but she had heard of less prudent choices in the pursuit of recreation.

"Mom, maybe we shouldn't..." Phoebe began as Gretchen slowed the hovercraft, bringing it to a stop near the clearing.

Startled, Gretchen looked at her. This wasn't an earlier century, when Earth had been in a state of continual threat for the unwary, or even a few years ago during the incursion by the Dominion when martial law had been in place. Crime was nonexistent, and their home planet was a virtual paradise. "Don't be silly, dear. These people might need help."

"Mike didn't implement those security measures at the farm for nothing," Phoebe reminded, but she didn't hesitate in leaving the hovercraft and following Gretchen toward the waiting group who had turned to face the approaching women. "Or arrange to have the park monitored by Starfleet Command. We're not in the park anymore."

"That was for Kathryn and Annika's benefit while they were on leave," Gretchen said in a low voice, irritated that her youngest would be so suspicious. "We're hardly going to run into trouble way out here in the middle of nowhe..." Her voice trailed off as the man on the ground rose to his feet, apparently unharmed, and goggled at the weapons that had suddenly appeared as if by magic, all pointed in her direction.

"Damn," Phoebe muttered as she stopped. "It has to be the Orion Syndicate."

Gretchen was in shock. This was ridiculous. Even if someone wanted to target them, they would hardly be lying in wait outside the park all these months.

Would they?

She raised her hands as the group spread out around them, thinking that these people must be very patient ... or could hold a grudge for a very long time.

"Mrs. Patterson. Miss Janeway." The man who spoke wasn't particularly tall, sparse and balding, and his clothing was just different enough for Gretchen to realize that he was from off world. His words also killed any hope that this was some kind of random aberration and that Gretchen and Phoebe just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. "There's no need for this to become unpleasant."

"It already is," Phoebe muttered, and subsided when another man, one big and bulky, gestured at her with his rifle, indicating she should be quiet. The man talking may have hidden his true nature behind his genial features, but there was no pretense with the larger man. His eyes were dark and flat, looking at the two women without any emotion at all, the dead eyes of a natural born killer.

"Why are you doing this?" Gretchen stared at the apparent leader, feeling fear trickle along her spine with an icy finger.

"It's just business, ma'am." He lifted his hand. "Now, if you would kindly move over to the tents, we'll finish this."

"Are you going to kill us?" Phoebe's tone was defiant, but Gretchen could see the beads of sweat that suddenly appeared at her hairline.

"That would serve no purpose ... at the moment."

The man nodded at the big, burly guard who immediately slung his weapon over his shoulder and headed for the hovercraft. He would probably dispose of it in a way that would make it difficult to trace, Gretchen thought, and then wondered how she was managing to stay on her feet. She felt numb, terrified at what was going to happen, not only to herself and Phoebe, but for her other daughter and Seven, whom this was undoubtedly about.

She looked at the other two members of the ambush party who closed around them, clearly intending to escort them to the tent. One was a young man, with spiky hair and a small port near his ear that indicated he was one of those who directly accessed computer databases with his mind ... a highly illegal and dangerous pastime. The other was the only woman, a dark-skinned individual staring at them with dispassionate intent. To Gretchen's shock, there were pointed ears poking delicately through the short dark hair feathered at the sides of her head. Not that Vulcans didn't have their share of anti-social personalities, the older woman realized, but it seemed a rather illogical path for the woman to be following.

Heart in her throat, Gretchen swallowed hard and meekly followed Phoebe into the indicated tent, wondering if she would ever see the rest of her family again.

She lay in boneless satisfaction, eyes closed, aware of the warmth of her partner stretched the full length of her body. Seven's lips traced a delicate trail up her neck, each kiss a soft benediction of adoration as Janeway uttered a sound of pure bliss.

"Kathryn?"

Seven's whisper was warm in her ear, her touch, tender and loving. Janeway shifted, sliding her right arm around the young woman's back, pulling her to her as the Borg nestled her head on the captain's shoulder.

"The past two days have been wonderful, darling," Janeway murmured. "I'm sorry I waited so long to arrange them." She stroked the long, blonde hair lazily, the soft strands tangling pleasantly about her fingers.

"We have not had the opportunity before now," Seven reminded her, her cheek soft against the captain's chest. "Initially, you were involved with negotiating for and installing the ConFed array. Since entering the nebula, I have been completely monopolized by my scientific duties. Helping Jiidan negotiate with the Raeliens to open up talks with the Confederacy now that they no longer have to worry about the magnetascopic radiation has occupied us both for the past two weeks. Only now do we have the time to be together."

Janeway kissed her forehead. "I know, but I've missed being with you."

Seven smiled slyly. "Even when I defeat you at Velocity?"

Growling, the captain nipped at the Borg's nose. "Must I remind you that I was tired from running around all morning trying to solve the mystery of your holoprogram? You challenged me to a match in the afternoon knowing I wasn't at my best."

"Ah." Seven sounded supremely unconvinced. "Is that why you chose to remain in bed today, without any extraneous activities?"

The captain softened, feeling suddenly vulnerable in a way she didn't quite understand, but accepted as part of the other woman's power over her. "I just love that after almost five years of marriage, we still want to do this sort of thing." Janeway nuzzled her, pulling her closer with her arm. "Mostly I love that renewed Borg endurance of yours."

Seven moved so that she was a little more on top of the captain, seeking out her lips for a kiss that left Janeway breathless. "So you truly do not object to my reprogramming my nanoprobes to return to their former state of efficiency?"

"Not as long as days like today are the result," Janeway muttered, squirming pleasurably as the Borg's long fingered hands began to trace wonderful patterns over her skin yet again.

"I love you, my Kathryn," Seven whispered in the captain's ear, biting the lobe gently. "You are a most perfect spouse."

Janeway laughed huskily. "I do my best." She arched as her spouse found a particularly sensitive spot. "So do you."

"Nothing less," Seven assured her. Her mouth was tender as it traced a lazy path over the slope of the captain's right breast, tongue dancing over the nipple, urging it into a sharp point of sensation.

Janeway's head went back, her lips parting as she inhaled deeply. Seven was such a loving and attentive lover, one who only grew more skilled in pleasing her the longer they were together. She reveled in the sense that the Borg would never grow bored with her, never find being intimate with her something that was commonplace. It granted the captain a security that she had never experienced with others.

"Annika," she breathed.

"Kathryn." Seven rose from her attentions to kiss the captain again, her mouth ardent as it covered Janeway's. Her body was finely muscled, silky smooth and soft, yet so firm and strong at the same time, pressing against Janeway's with a contained mastery that thrilled the captain.

"Seven of Mine," she whispered, delighting in the form that moved over her, covering her with a protective strength. "I love you so much ... I need you so much..."

"You have me, Kathryn," Seven assured her, stroking her with delicate constraint, reaching down to touch her as she shifted her weight onto her left side. "You will always have me."

Janeway moaned as she felt the warm hand cup her mound, fingers stroking through the auburn triangle with easy pressure, urging her legs apart to run gently along the soft skin of her inner thigh. Seven teased her for a moment, slipping over to caress the other leg, skipping over the juncture that suddenly ached for her touch.

"Seven ... please..." Janeway begged shamelessly, spreading her legs wide, offering herself to her spouse freely.

The Borg kissed her again, her lips harder now, demanding, utterly consuming Janeway's senses. The captain whimpered helplessly into Seven's mouth as she finally felt the touch she craved, the firm fingers dipping into her wetness, sliding over her slick ridge, fondling her with knowing proficiency. Then two fingers pushed inside, penetrating deeply in the way Seven knew she liked, as her thumb continued to rub over the center of her desire, combining to steal away the last remaining decorum the captain possessed.

"Oh, god ... yes ... yes..." She clung to the Borg, arms around her shoulders, feeling the muscles flexing as the young woman thrust and probed and utterly possessed her, taking complete control of her body, heart and mind.

Giving herself up to it completely, Janeway allowed the feelings to overwhelm her, letting go until she was nothing more than a quivering mass of sheer joy. Crying out, the sensation swept over her, and she shuddered as the waves of delight went on and on, until she could no longer respond, could no longer react to the hands and mouth that ravished her so completely. Finally, Seven granted mercy on her and released her, rising slightly to look down on her with brilliant blue eyes that held devotion and tenderness and a sort of all consuming love that left the captain weak with the power of it.

"You do that so easily," Janeway murmured, smiling lazily as she looked into that intense gaze.

The metallic implant framing Seven's left eye rose quizzically. "Do what?"

"Make me yours."

Seven smiled faintly. "I thought you were already mine."

The captain laughed. "So I am," she admitted. She tightened her arms about the Borg's neck, pulling her down for another kiss, tasting the young woman's desire. "What would you like, my love?" she whispered as they parted. "What do you want me to do for you?"

Seven kissed her again, an open, melting, needful kiss. "What you do so well," she told her huskily. "Love me."

Janeway let her breath out in a rush, the words thrilling her as always. Seven allowed her to roll them over until the captain was on top, pressing down on the glorious length of her partner with lascivious joy. There was just so much of her that, at times, the captain felt overwhelmed by her need to possess it all. She smiled with supreme joy as she went over that form with meticulous attention, seeking out every sensitive spot, drawing out every iota of pleasure she could from the young woman. Seven squirmed and trembled and arched under the captain's hands and mouth, as helpless as Janeway had been only moments before. Her cries were quieter, her release more contained, but no less deep for it. Indeed, sometimes the captain suspected Seven felt it more profoundly, simply because she was able to focus on a single thing to the exclusion of all others in a way that most beings couldn't.

After it was over, when the final tremors had ceased and Seven lay in complete and utter satisfaction, Janeway pulled up the blankets to cover them, cuddling the Borg close to her with protective tenderness.

"Kathryn?" The voice was soft and lazy, melodic in a way her normal chill tones were not.

"Yes, darling?" Janeway nuzzled her temple, kissing Seven's forehead and eyepiece with equal affection.

"I am so happy."

"I am, too, love," the captain whispered. "It doesn't get any better than this."

"It doesn't?"

"Well, maybe it does, but I'm not sure I could survive it."

Seven made a small sound of amusement, not exactly a chuckle, but rather a tiny hum of agreement. Janeway closed her eyes and settled against the Borg's body, feeling the inevitable drowsiness steal over her.

"Bridge to the captain. Captain Janeway, please respond."

The hail was intrusive and abrupt, jarring Janeway out of this warm, wondrous place of peace.

"I swear I'm going to kill her." The captain leaned over and retrieved her comm badge from the nightstand. "Go ahead, Commander."

Kiara Kelly, the ship's first officer, did not apologize for interrupting the captain's off day. "Captain, we have a message from Starfleet Command being relayed from the ConFed array. Priority one."

Janeway didn't sigh, but she wanted to. "On my way."

"Captain?"

"Yes?"

"The message is for Lt. Hansen as well."

Startled, Janeway glanced down at Seven whose eyes flew open at the unusual statement. Frowning slightly, the captain sat up. "Understood, Number One. We're both on our way. Channel it to my ready room."

The couple dressed quickly in their uniforms, taking the private command turbolift directly to the ready room from their quarters, bypassing the bridge. Inside Janeway's two-tiered office, the captain took a seat at her desk, angling the viewscreen of her workstation so that Seven, seated across from her, could also see it.

Activating the screen, Janeway accessed the channel. There was a delay that could not be helped, even with the help of the communications array that had been constructed in Confederation space. The tens of thousands of lights years were still too much for even the most advanced technology the Federation possessed. Still, it was better than Millennium's first year where contact was limited to a communications probe launched monthly through a transition corridor created by the ship, and infinitely better than Voyager's first five years in the Delta Quadrant, when there had been no contact at all.

The screen, displaying the Federation logo, cleared to reveal Admiral Alynna Nechayev, Janeway's sector commander and immediate superior. Blonde hair streaked with grey was pulled back tightly in a bun, granting her Slavic features even more severity.

"Captain, I'll make this quick."

Janeway lifted a brow. "I'd appreciate that, Admiral."

"Two days ago, your mother and sister were abducted by the Orion Syndicate. I want to assure you that Starfleet is doing everything possible to rectify the situation. "

Janeway gaped at the screen, unable to absorb the words in their entirety. Across the desk, Seven had gone completely pale, her face losing all color.

Nechayev took a breath, her icy blue eyes assessing the officers on her screen. "Normally, I'd wait until this situation is resolved before informing you of it, but I suspect you'd never forgive us for it, particularly if it has an ... unfortunate outcome."

Somehow, Janeway managed to find her voice. "What's being done?"

"We have an elite team of Starfleet operatives addressing the situation. We also have an operative on site in the field so we're very confident that no harm will come to your family." She paused, and for the first time, a flicker of what might be sympathy crossed the admiral's face. "Kathryn, I know this is devastating news, but please understand, we have it under control. In the meantime, your orders stand."

The captain hesitated. "Understood, Admiral."

Nechayev's lips parted as if about to say something more, but she hesitated, and then pressed them together into a thin line. "Carry on."

The screen flickered and returned to the Federation insignia, a silver wreath against a blue background as the captain tried to pull herself together, grasping wildly at the thoughts and emotions that were racing in a thousand different directions. Glancing across the desk, she hoped she would never have to see that expression on her partner's face ever again. The Borg stood up as if she were about to flee, but what Janeway thought was a need for escape, resolved itself into the preparation for action, a look of absolute determination and fury heating those icy blue eyes.

"As soon as we are within transporter range, you must beam me to Starfleet Headquarters in San Francisco. I will be able to determine where the Syndicate has taken them, just as Section 31 was able to. I assimilated much of their technique during my brief time with them." Seven's words were clipped and cold, her tone one of absolute precision.

Janeway felt a tightness in her chest. It made what she had to say next all the more difficult.

"Seven, I can't turn this ship around. We're not returning to the Federation."

"Seven, I can't turn this ship around. We're not returning to the Federation."

Seven stared at the captain, unable to believe what she was hearing. Janeway was expressionless, regarding the Borg with eyes that were suddenly too old.

"Kathryn?"

Janeway dipped her head, her mouth tightening. "It's impossible, Seven. My orders are clear. I have a duty to this ship and to Starfleet. So do you."

Seven actually needed a moment to find the words. It never occurred to her that Janeway wouldn't do all she could to help rescue her mother. It forced the Borg's mind on a path that was so diametrically opposed to what she had had been thinking that the wrench was almost painful.

"Kathryn, this is our family."

Janeway stood up abruptly, her hands on the desktop as she leaned forward. "Don't you think I know that? But we've been over this before, and I can't believe you would assume it would be different for us than for anyone else on the ship. The mission can't be aborted for the sake of a few crewmembers."

"You are not a crewmember. You are the captain."

"All the more reason for me not to violate my oath."

Despite her harsh words, Seven recognized the pain in the blue-grey eyes, understood that this decision was tearing at the captain. But it wasn't enough. Kathryn's mother and sister were the only real family that Seven had known, far more important than the blood relatives that held limited claim on her, including her own mother. She would do anything and everything for Gretchen and Phoebe. To discover Kathryn would not was profoundly and irrevocably disturbing, despite all she thought she knew about her.

"Kathryn, this is Gretchen."

"I know." The words came out as more of a cry of pain than anything, and the captain had to take several breaths to compose herself. "Don't you know this is the hardest thing I ever had to do."

"You have the choice, Kathryn."

Janeway stared at her bleakly. "You told me you understood."

Seven remembered the conversations, not only with her partner, but with others in the crew regarding Janeway's decision not to abort the mission in the Delta Quadrant after sabotage sent plasma spilling through the engine room. She knew how and why the captain had refused to return to the Alpha Quadrant even though there was a slim chance that three of the mortally injured might be saved by advanced techniques in the Federation. It was a decision that had weighed heavily on Janeway, but it was one that she had to make, both for the sake of her duty to Starfleet, and for the sake of protecting the rest of the crew. But there was no logic in this, nor did the young woman want to draw on any at the moment. All she had was her sudden, overpowering emotion, strong and fierce, telling her to return immediately to where her varied skills could be utilized in the recovery of the people she valued above all others.

"I understand that the uniform has become more important that the living beings around you," Seven said coldly. "That duty apparently supersedes those you love. I always knew it was true for myself. It never occured to me that you would be so heartless regarding your mother and sister."

Janeway looked as if she had been struck in the face. "You know that's not true. I have a responsibility..."

"You have a responsibility to them ... to me." Seven lifted her chin. "Kathryn, I am asking this of you. Take me home. Let me help Gretchen."

Janeway's face crumpled. "Darling, even if I could, there's nothing we could do. Starfleet protocol doesn't allow relatives to become involved in any security operation..."

Seven could not remember being so furious. "Take me home, Kathryn."

"I can't."

"You mean you won't." Seven glared at her with all the disdain and fury she possessed, and a bit more. "This is unacceptable."

Without another word, she turned on her heel and left the ready room. She wasn't sure where she was going, only that she needed to be anywhere other than where Janeway was. Flying through the bridge to the nearest turbolift, she was aware of startled looks that shot her way from the crew, including that of Commander Kelly and Ro Laren. She wanted to cry, but at the same time, her fury was such that what she really wanted was to destroy something. A curt order to the computer directed the turbolift to the lowest deck on the ship. Restlessly, she began to stalk through the corridors, her feelings undoubtedly apparent in her face because the crewmembers she met made a point of averting their eyes and scurrying quickly past. Finally, Seven realized she was on the deck containing one of the larger holodecks, and understood that, while there were no Borg alcoves on this ship to smash in an orgy of perfect destruction, this might be the next best thing.

For whatever reason, the holodeck was empty. Grateful for it, because she didn't want to have to displace someone, or become involved in the explanations such an action would require, Seven went inside. The door clunked shut behind her, leaving her alone in a black room filled with a pattern of glowing gridlines. She struggled a moment to compose herself, to organize her thoughts enough to give the computer the necessary instructions to provide a program that would allow her to release the ferocious anger that threatened to consume her.

"Computer, initiate security training program theta five, beta level."

"That program is not available without security clearance. Safety protocols dictate that..."

Seven strode over to the control panel and with ruthless efficiency, used her assimilation tubules to link directly with the holodeck programming, bypassing the protocols put in place to prevent what she was doing. She chose one of Ro Laren's training scenarios, keyed to the Alpha Quadrant with Jem'Hadar as the main antagonists, and activated the program.

Immediately, she was on a starship, or perhaps it was a space station, the corridors filled with smoke, the illumination dim and sporadic, as if the systems had been damaged. A crimson stain washed over her from the red alert lights set high on the wall, indicating that there were invaders, and she turned away from the panel in time to see two Jem'Hadar soldiers racing toward her.

She had never encountered these beings in reality, not as a Starfleet officer nor as a member of the Borg Collective. Reptilian in appearance, with thick, leathery skin and stocky, muscular forms, they were reputed to be formidable warriors, all the more so because they fought for what they considered their gods, the Gamma Quadrant Changelings. Physically superior to most Alpha Quadrant species, relentless in their attack, fanatically disciplined, they were exactly what the Borg needed to challenge her. Baring her teeth in an unconscious snarl, she lunged to meet them, wanting nothing more than to lose herself in utter havoc

The fight was brutal, with nothing held back. An instant's thought altered the implant on her left hand to the serrated edges of a cutting tool that could be used to sever cable and piping ... or slice through flesh and bone as vicious, metal claws. Utilizing every bit of speed she possessed, which was considerable thanks to the recent enhancements of her nanoprobes, she crashed into the Jem'Hadar, striking at them wildly. This conflict reminded her of the Barellan prison where she had rescued Kathryn, when her task had been simple and clear, where her enemies were obvious, and the need for restraint nonexistent.

When the two soldiers hit the metal deck, sliced open with Borg efficiency, she went looking for more, ignoring the trickle of blood streaking her right cheek, and disdaining the sharp sting from a wound that had sliced over her duranium-enforced ribs. She found what she wanted around the next bend, a squadron of five soldiers heading toward her with murderous intent.

She undoubtedly would have failed this training run had it been monitored and graded for performance. It was intended to teach the new security officers prudence and how to think their way out of trouble. Seven was not thinking. She wanted only to destroy, to attack her foe and keep attacking until they lay dead or dying at her feet. But they kept coming, and slowly it began to penetrate her fury and pain that perhaps she had made a serious error in judgment.

Skidding on the various bodily fluids she had spilled in copious amounts, she fell heavily to the deck, the wind momentarily knocked out of her. Dazed, she gazed up at a new Jem'Hadar soldier standing over her, his rifle raised to bludgeon her into a pulp. She braced herself for the impact, not afraid exactly, but rather annoyed that she had allowed her anger to lead her into such a futile and inelegant death. Abruptly the hologram froze in mid-motion, the butt of the rifle stopping only a few inches from her head.

Confused, Seven looked around and spotted Millennium's security chief standing a few feet away. Ro Laren's normally stoic features were a mix of astonishment, anger and dismay.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

The Borg took a breath and rose to her feet. Now that the battle was over, the injuries to her body began to make themselves felt, the various cuts and bruises starting to sting, all the muscles that had been wrenched and twisted during her fight aching sharply. Though her nanoprobes were already healing the damage, they were not adjusted to block the pain, because pain was the most efficient way for her systems to let her know something was wrong.

"How did you know I was here?" she demanded coolly.

"The computer alerted me to an unauthorized access of one of my training programs." Ro stared at her, her dark eyes assessing the Borg as if she had never seen her before. "Prophets, Seven, the safeties aren't even on. What's happening?"

Seven opened her mouth to respond, hesitated, then dipped her head, refusing to speak.

Ro frowned. "Does this have anything to do with the priority message you and the captain received earlier this evening?"

Seven firmed her mouth stubbornly. Apparently the captain had not deigned to share the news of her mother's abduction with any of her staff. Despite her anger, Seven knew she didn't have leave to do so either, or at least, she didn't feel the inclination to do so at the moment. It would require an explanation that she didn't feel up to offering, though Ro was a good friend. Besides, what could the Bajoran do, when none of them could return to the Federation?

"It is ... my business and not yours, Commander."

Ro's head went back, puzzlement and concern apparent in her features, but the Borg did not speak further and finally, Ro shook her head. "Seven if you want to talk..." she began.

"No." The tone was sharp and final. Ro stared at her without comprehension as Seven walked past her. "Computer, door."

Out in the corridor, Seven faltered briefly, unsure what to do next. A glance around revealed that the lights had been lowered, and that they were into the Gamma shift. She had not thought it had been that long, but then her sense of time had been greatly distorted since hearing the horrible news in the ready room.

Taking a breath, she began walking through the ship, not wishing to return to her quarters or see her spouse. Though her body was sore and tired, her emotions were just as confused as they had been hours earlier.

Before she realized where she was, she looked up and found that her feet had brought her to the deck containing crew quarters. For a moment, she debated going to B'Elanna, but she and Ro were as much Kathryn's friends as they were hers. The situation could force them into the awkward position of defending the captain, and possibly even the position Janeway had taken.

Seven wasn't ready to hear anyone defend her partner. She wanted a presence sympathetic to her, someone who would be there without requiring a lot of explanation or discussion. Moving automatically, she passed the engineer's quarters, heading for another corridor in another section of the deck.

She pressed the chime insistently over and over, and finally the door hissed open. Lenara Kahn was disarrayed, dressed in a slate blue robe and what might have been some kind of sheer nightie beneath that. Blinking drowsily, her golden brown hair mussed, she regarded the Borg with astonishment.

"Seven?" Her voice was still muddled from sleep.

"Lenara, may I stay with you tonight?"

The Trill stared at her blankly. "Excuse me?"

"I require a place to stay for the foreseeable future. May I stay with you?"

Lenara shook her head, as if needing to clear it, but she stepped aside and motioned the Borg into her quarters. Staring at Seven quizzically, her face darkened with concern when she saw how the young woman was disheveled from her run through the holodeck, though the extent of Seven's disarray was limited to a few tears in her uniform and escaped strands of blonde hair from the French twist. Her nanoprobes had already finished repairing the cuts, and the room was too dim for Lenara to see the darker stains of her own blood spilt on her black tunic. The Jem'Hadar blood had, of course, disappeared the second she left the holodeck.

"What's this about, Seven?"

"I am quarreling with Kathryn. I need to be apart from her until I can organize my thoughts."

The Trill blinked, then let out her breath. "Was it ... physical?"

Seven lifted a brow. "No. I ... spent some time in the holodeck." She paused. "I was ... 'working out my anger'. It was futile."

"Oh." Lenara shook her head slightly and glanced around, apparently undecided about what to do. "I guess I'll make up the couch."

As the Trill retrieved the linens from a nearby compartment, she snuck a look at the Borg who was still standing by the door. Seven felt uncertain now that she had a space to breathe and think about what had happened. She linked her hands behind her back, not wanting the Trill to see how they were shaking.

"Do you want to tell me about it, Annika?" Lenara's voice was very gentle.

Seven lifted her head. "No." She thought about it, realizing that perhaps her abruptness was insufficient in this instance. "I ... cannot speak of it yet."

Lenara started, and then nodded slowly. "Fair enough. I suppose whatever it is, it must be bad if you're here instead of there. I won't ask until you're ready, Seven. In the meantime, you're more than welcome to stay with me until you figure things out."

"Thank you, Lenara."

The Trill offered a brief smile. "What are friends for?"

Michael Patterson thought he would lose his mind.  Terror for his spouse, fury over the situation, and a sense of overwhelming helplessness combined to leave him almost speechless.  "You can't leave me out of this."

The diminutive form of Admiral Nechayev did not cower from the large, bulky man looming over her. Her ice blue eyes pinned his with an inescapable force. "Commander, don't force me to relieve you of duty."

"This is my wife!"

"And they're the mother and sister of one of our best captains, and the widow and daughter of one of our most revered admirals. Do you really think Starfleet isn't doing everything possible to resolve this?"

"Maybe it's not enough."

Nechayev's narrow features didn't flicker. "Maybe it's not, but it won't be because you could do a better job. I already reminded Kathryn of her orders. Do I need to do the same for you?"

Michael laughed bitterly, straightening from where he had been leaning over the desk, hands braced on the surface. "Do you really think she'll obey those orders?"

Nechayev let out a breath. "It will take a week for her to prepare Millennium for a safe return, even if she immediately makes the decision to defy her orders. This will be resolved by then, one way or the other."

Michael paused, a little taken aback by the admiral's matter-of-fact acknowledgment that the captain would probably sacrifice her career to save her mother, and the slight implication that she might cover it up if Janeway did. It granted him a moment to compose himself. During that time, Nechayev was observing him closely. She gave a little nod, as if satisfied with what she saw.

"Commander Tuvok is in command of the rescue detail. You may assist, but you will not interfere. Is that understood?"

Michael offered a short nod, not trusting his voice to say anything. Nechayev's face hardened. "I mean it, Commander. I'll throw you in the brig if I have to. This is a very delicate operation, and I won't allow you to jeopardize it because of your personal feelings."

"I won't."

"Commander Tuvok can be found on Sub-level twelve. Security clearance is alpha ten, your password is Illinois," she added curtly. "Dismissed." She dropped her eyes to the padd, indicating that he should be already out of her office. At least, Michael took it to mean that. He certainly didn't hesitate in heading for the nearest turbolift.

Starfleet Headquarters had been destroyed in a Breen attack during the Dominion War, and the facility had been completely rebuilt, incorporating many improvements and utilizing a more flowing line of architecture that evoked a sense of it being a grounded starship rather than merely a building. Rumors flew that it actually was a starship, and in the event of another attack, it could launch and defend itself ... though most discounted that as absurd speculation. If the people behind the rumors had been aware of the levels descending deep into the bedrock of San Francisco beneath the facility, they would know just how absurd it was. The entire staff could be evacuated to the lower levels in a matter of minutes, and even if everything above was destroyed, Starfleet Headquarters would carry on, protected deep underground. Twenty-third Century technology in the form of the seismic stabilizers inserted into the California crust, kept any geometric instability well away from populated areas and made the structure possible, where it hadn't been prior to their rebuilding.

Michael thought it was evocative of the current Starfleet Command. So much was going on beneath the surface, not the least of which was Section 31. They were quiescent for the moment, but their influence threaded through Starfleet Command, and had since the beginning of the organization's existence. Fortunately, it was not a rogue element from that group they were dealing with in this instance, but the Orion Syndicate, a criminal organization that had seen its base destroyed and most of its key people arrested and incarcerated a few years earlier.

That made the remaining members still at large more than a little desperate, and desperate people were unpredictable. They had offered a contract for the demise of Captain Janeway and Seven of Nine, the Starfleet officers instrumental in bringing down the organization. One attempt on Millennium had been stymied by Janeway and Seven. Michael had provided the protection for them during their leave on Earth and with them on a year long mission in the Beta Quadrant. With no further attempts on the Millennium officers, perhaps he and Starfleet had relaxed too much. The Syndicate had a history of going after family members, and of holding onto a grudge long after the initial insult.

He should have been more alert, he raged silently. Should have insisted on increasing security, rather than backing off at Gretchen's request. She had no experience with these sort of people, despite being married to an admiral for three decades. Now she was in serious trouble, and he was physically ill from the thoughts of what could happen to her and Phoebe.

He managed to maintain his patience as he was processed through security on sub-level twelve and finally led to a room full of monitoring systems and elite Starfleet security officers, overseen by a slender, dark-skinned man.

Michael had met Commander Tuvok on various occasions. The Vulcan had been Janeway's security chief during the seven years Voyager had been lost in the Delta Quadrant. Upon their return to the Federation, he had initially accepted a teaching position at the Vulcan Science Academy, but that had lasted only a year. Michael wondered if Vulcans became antsy, if they needed as much action and adventure in their life as the occasional Human. For whatever reason, Tuvok had been quick to return to Starfleet Intelligence when the opportunity arose.

He looked up as Michael approached, lifting an eyebrow. "Commander. Admiral Nechayev informed me that you would be joining the operation as an interested observer."

"I won't get in your way," Michael promised.

"No, you will not," Tuvok agreed evenly. "Otherwise, I will be forced to remove you from the operation."

Michael took a breath. He hadn't expected anything else.

"What have we got?" he asked instead.

Tuvok regarded him for a moment, before he appeared to find the commander's demeanor acceptable. He turned and accessed the nearest desktop padd, bringing up a series of files.

"When the Noiro colony was destroyed, most of the syndicate's leaders were captured and arrested. But there was one vessel that escaped, warned off in time by the colony as Starfleet was in the process of evacuating it. We believe these two men were on it." He brought up two pictures, one of a thin, balding man, and the other of a hulking, sullen brute who glowered at the tricorder scanning the image. "The first is named Vicarny. We believe him to be one of the Syndicate's 'trouble shooters'. When there was something that needed to be done, big or small, he was dispatched by the leaders to take care of it. Ricardo is his 'enforcer', and considered extremely dangerous. Captain Janeway identified both of these men as her kidnappers."

"God." Michael felt weak and he did his best not to show it. "If you know who these people are, then why didn't Starfleet Intelligence track them down and arrest them."

Tuvok eyed him. "We believe that the syndicate is attempting to rebuild. Furthermore, we believe they are doing so with outside backing."

Michael stared at him in horror. "You're using Gretchen as bait to find out who and what this outside backing is?"

Tuvok frowned faintly. "Not at all. The Syndicate's abduction of your wife and her daughter was completely unexpected, but it is interesting. It means that either the outside backing has its own plans for the Janeway family, or that the remaining Syndicate members have gone against their backers. In either case, we have the perfect opportunity to follow the trail leading back to whoever is supplying them with the means to rebuild."

Michael glared at him. "What about my wife? What about Phoebe?"

Tuvok looked particularly inscrutable.

"We have an operative in the field looking after them."

"An operative?"

"Someone who has managed to infiltrate the Syndicate to the inner core. It's an operation that has taken a great deal of time to set up, and we are on the verge of discovering all the information we need in order to shut down the organization completely."

Michael flicked an eyebrow. It was true, he thought. Starfleet security really did talk like old-time law enforcement agents, even the Vulcans.

"You trust this operative?"

"I have intimate knowledge of her capabilities and absolute trust in her ability to handle this situation with both professionalism and adeptness."

"Her?"

"Yes." Despite his impassiveness, a slight hint of what might have been pride lightened the otherwise dark eyes of the Vulcan. "She followed in my footsteps into both the Academy and into Starfleet Intelligence." He paused briefly. "It is my daughter, Asil, who has infiltrated the Syndicate. It is she who is in the perfect position to keep your wife and step-daughter safe."

Or be killed with them, Michael thought grimly, but he did not say it out loud. The very thought of it was too much to bear.

Seven was gone.

Janeway still couldn't quite believe how it had gone so bad so quickly. One minute, she had been enjoying a wonderful day off, and then the next, it had all gone to hell in a handbasket. When Seven stormed out of her ready room, the captain knew the Borg was furious, but she really thought she'd return after a few hours to resume the fight, as had happened so many times before. But the hours passed, and Seven did not return that evening, nor even by the next morning. After making it through her duty shift, the captain allowed that Seven must be very angry with her and with the situation, yet she still expected the Borg to be in their quarters when she returned home. That hadn't happened either, and when a sleepless Janeway finally broke down and asked the computer where Seven was at 0300 hours in the morning, it informed her dispassionately that she was in Lenara Kahn's quarters.

Lenara Kahn's quarters!

Janeway was torn between storming down there and being too afraid of what she might find if she did. She knew in her heart of hearts that Seven wouldn't have jumped into the Trill's bed. That just wasn't the Borg. But she also knew that Lenara was bright and beautiful and possibly not above taking advantage of the situation. She was also someone whom Seven admired greatly. Given enough time ... and incentive ... Kahn might just be the sort of person the young Borg would turn to if her feelings for the captain had altered.

And Janeway was desperately worried that they had altered, perhaps irrevocably.

Staring out the viewports of her quarters, arms crossed over her chest, the captain's eyes were blank as she watched the stars flying past. She felt numb, drained, almost distanced from what was going on, as if it was happening to someone else. She supposed she was still in a bit of shock, operating completely on automatic, but not really thinking about what was happening, because if she did, she'd fall apart completely.

Maybe that was why she hadn't seen this coming, though in retrospect, she wondered if she should have. Seven was remarkably supportive when it came to her spouse's role in Starfleet, almost unnaturally so at times, but never when it directly affected her personal Collective. They had clashed at this level before when Janeway had returned the Borg baby to her people, against Seven's wishes, and then again on Earth, when security classification demanded the captain treat her spouse like a junior lieutenant, requiring Seven to obey orders without explanation.

Threats to those Seven loved, whether it involved her relationship with Janeway or her extended family of Gretchen and Phoebe, made the Borg react with pure emotion and little logic. She became irrational, and it was all the more jarring for those around her because, most of the time, she was the most rational person anyone knew. She was even rational about her irrationality ... once it had passed and she had a chance to think about what she had done and what had motivated it.

But she had never left like this before.

Now the captain had to deal with the thought of her mother and sister in peril, while her emotional support system was removed as if it had never been. It wasn't the first time she had to face a crisis on her own, but it had been a long time since she had felt this alone.

She exhaled, making a small sound at the back of her throat, almost a whimper. Was she wrong? Should she immediately initiate the return procedures and head back to the Federation? Maybe she would, had she the slightest idea of what to do when she got there. She knew in her heart of hearts that she would be accomplishing little more than throwing away her career. Janeway was no intelligence officer and not likely to turn into one in the future. The few times she had been required to carry out such a role, she quickly found herself in trouble. Heavens, even the incident with the Omega molecule quickly escalated so that by the time it was over, everyone on the ship knew all about the classified details.

An operation like this required a delicate touch, a careful assessment of risk and reward, and the firm hand of someone who knew exactly when and where to strike. That was the other part of the reason she wasn't about to take Millennium back to the Federation prematurely. Seven, in this state, didn't know the meaning of the word delicate. She would descend upon the situation with all the subtlety of a photon torpedo explosion, and possibly end up doing more harm than good, just as she had with the Noiro colony. If such actions resulted in any harm coming to those she loved, she'd never be able to live with it.

But what if something did happen to Gretchen and Phoebe? What if they didn't make it? Could Seven ever forgive the captain for not doing everything, no matter how slight, to be there for them?

Could Janeway ever forgive herself?

Closing her eyes, she bent her head. Pain had blossomed deep in her chest, and she wondered dully if it was something she should have checked, or if it was just a side effect from all that was happening. She started abruptly as a soft chime at the door cut off that line of thought. For a brief instant, she felt a lift, thinking that Seven had returned, before reality struck and reminded her that the Borg would hardly request admittance to her own quarters.

Downcast, she went over to the door, intending to send away whoever it was. She had no wish to talk to anyone when she was feeling like this, nor want to reveal why she was so depressed.

Ro Laren regarded the captain soberly.

"Kathryn? May I come in?"

The use of her name, utilized only sparingly by the Bajoran, let Janeway know this was personal rather than professional. She wondered if Seven had told their friends what was going on.

"I'm really not free at the moment, Laren," she tried anyway.

Ro dipped her head, her expression grave. "I understand, but I really think we should talk."

Janeway frowned but surrendered to the inevitable, stepping aside to allow passage to the woman who moved with deadly grace into the captain's quarters. If it wasn't Ro, it would eventually be someone else, perhaps someone she didn't trust as much. Leaning against the bulkhead containing the turbolift, she watched the security officer pause by the kitchenette. Ro glanced around, noting the stained coffee cups scattered about the corner and the various pieces of previously worn uniform tunics thrown over the sofa and chairs. Finally, she raised her dark gaze to meet the captain's eyes.

"I know something's happened. I've come to offer whatever assistance I can."

Janeway tried anyway. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Laren."

Ro sighed but continued on, not backing off in the face of the captain's obvious resistance. "I know it has to do with that priority message you received from Starfleet. I saw Seven's face when she came out of the ready room. Later, I found her ripping apart Jem'Hadar soldiers in the holodeck with the safeties off. This afternoon, I ran a location history and discovered that she's stayed in Lenara Kahn's quarters for the past two nights."

Janeway felt her jaw tighten. This was worse than she thought if the Borg was smashing things. She had hoped that her spouse was just angry and busy working out the perfect argument to shred the captain's position and force her to turn the ship around. Now Janeway realized how out of control Seven really was.

She focused a glare at Ro. "Why didn't you tell me this about Seven before now? Running a holoprogram without the safeties is a clear violation of protocol." Perhaps if she dwelled on the inconsequential, then she wouldn't have to think of the big picture ... at least, not for awhile.

Ro raked her fingers through her short, dark hair. "Maybe I should have," she admitted a little sheepishly. "But Seven can handle a training run better than anyone else, and frankly, wrecking havoc in a holodeck is a perfectly acceptable alternative to wrecking havoc in some other part of the ship, as she did when she destroyed the Borg alcoves on Voyager. I honestly thought the exercise took whatever it was out of her system, and didn't realize how serious it was until I watched you on the bridge today."

"I was that obvious?" Janeway was dismayed.

Ro shrugged slightly. "Probably not to everyone, but this is my job. That's when I decided to run the history on Seven's location from the time she left the holodeck."

A muscle jumped in the captain's jaw. Her security chief was quicker than anyone in spotting inconsistencies, but it wouldn't be long before others would as well. Then it would start to affect the morale and efficiency of the ship.

Ro stepped closer, reaching out her hand and putting it on Janeway's left arm, tentatively, as if unsure she could go that far. "Can you tell me what was in that priority message? I'm asking this as your friend, not your security chief."

Janeway exhaled slowly. She had few enough of those, and certainly, she'd been through enough with Ro over the past few years to trust her with certain things she wouldn't trust anyone else with, including the safety of her partner. Despite Ro's marriage with B'Elanna, whatever the captain said to the Bajoran wouldn't go any further.

"My mother and sister ... they've been abducted by the Orion Syndicate."

Ro's head went back a little, but her compassionate expression didn't change. "I'm sorry," she said sincerely.

Once she said it, Janeway found it easier to keep going. "Starfleet assures me everything is being done to retrieve them safely."

Assessing her keenly, Ro lifted a brow. "You don't believe them?"

"I don't have much choice in the situation," Janeway said, somewhat bitterly. "My orders are clear. I am to continue our mission here."

"Ah." That was all Ro said, but it conveyed a wealth of meaning that spoke volumes.

Janeway shrugged off the hand and moved over to the living area, brushing past the security officer. Picking up the various coffee cups scattered about the room, she carried them back to the replicator where she reduced them to their component parts. She retrieved her tunic and shrugged it on, before picking up the rest of the clothing and stacking it in one pile. It wasn't  that she suddenly felt the urge to clean, it was just that she needed something to do, something that felt constructive.

Ro remained still, watching her evenly. "There's no other choice," she said finally. "You'd be sacrificing your career for no other reason than just to change locations from here to there. You wouldn't be allowed to interfere with an Intelligence operation."

"You don't have to tell me what I already know!"

The words were harsh, but Ro didn't flicker.

"And it's entirely possible that any course of action Seven decided upon would be ... excessive."

Janeway felt her anger drain away, her shoulders slumping. With little apparent effort, Ro managed to pinpoint the crux of the matter.

"Maybe I'm underestimating her," she said softly.

Ro looked vaguely skeptical. "I saw the Jem'Hadar remains, Captain. When she's like this, Seven has little sense of perspective or restraint. It's unfortunate but true. I think she's still unfamiliar enough with extreme emotions that she doesn't have complete control over them. In a few days, she'll be better able to come to terms with what's happened and be more disciplined in her actions. By then, this may even be resolved."

Janeway pursed her lips. "I can always unleash her on the Syndicate if..." She couldn't finish the thought.

Ro held her gaze steady. "That won't happen. I have complete confidence in Tuvok."

The captain blinked. "Tuvok?"

"He's in charge of all operations pertaining to the Orion Syndicate. If anyone is able to resolve this quickly, he will."

"I'd forgotten about that." Despite all that was going on, Janeway did feel a little better. Tuvok excelled at this sort of situation, perhaps better than he did in his role as a security chief. His true talents lie in covert operations and rescuing people. Certainly, he'd rescued the captain's behind more than once.

Ro spread out her hands. "You're doing the right thing, Captain. Deep down, I know Seven understands that, as well." It wasn't necessarily her place to say it. Certainly not as her security chief, but perhaps it was what she had to say as Janeway's friend. Hesitantly, the captain nodded.

"Thank you."

"As for now..."

Janeway shook her head. "As for now, Seven is furious at me."

"I suspect she's more furious at the situation."

"Don't kid yourself." Janeway managed a laugh that was more bitter than humorous.

Ro considered it, and apparently realized that she couldn't come up with anything that would refute that. "She'll get over it. She always does."

Janeway felt suddenly lost, but wasn't ready to be any more vulnerable with her security chief than she had already revealed. Nor did she think Ro had any idea how bad this was that Seven would deliberately stay away from the captain for this long. "She probably will," she lied gamely. "It's just a little difficult in the meantime."

Ro opened her mouth as if to say something, paused, apparently thought better of it, and nodded briefly. "If you need anything else, Kathryn..."

Janeway nodded briefly. "I know where you are."

It was clearly a dismissal and Ro accepted it as such. She inclined her head respectfully and moved for the door. Janeway stood for long moments after she was gone, wondering just how much worse this would become.

And whether she'd be able to survive it until it was over.

B'Elanna Torres appeared in Seven's office like a vengeful Valkyrie. Her keen eyes livid, her olive skin dark, she leaned over the desk, placing her hands flat on the smooth surface.

"What the hell's going on, Seven?"

The Borg did not lift her head, finishing up her task before switching her attention to her friend. When she finally met the engineer's eyes, her face was set in her best, impassive expression. Harboring a suspicion why the Klingon was here, she wasn't certain she was ready for it.

"To what do you refer?" Her voice was cool, and uninviting.

"Rumor has it that you've moved out of the captain's quarters and in with Lenara Kahn!"

Startled, Seven evaluated the comment. It wasn't what she had expected B'Elanna to say when she found out that the Borg wanted to return to Earth and rescue her loved ones. "That is inaccurate."

"But you're staying with Kahn."

That was more difficult to answer. "Temporarily. Kathryn and I are ... having difficulties." It occurred to her suddenly that the Klingon did not know all the details, which was surprising when it came to the engineer and her insatiable curiosity.

B'Elanna plopped down in the chair across the desk and pinned the Borg with a dark look, her mouth twisted slightly as if she didn't like how things were tasting. "What kind of difficulties?"

Seven hesitated, but only for a moment. Telling B'Elanna about the priority message seemed to loosen the tight band across her chest ever so slightly. What she wanted to do next, and why she was currently avoiding the captain as much as possible was harder to explain. B'Elanna looked as if she wasn't sure to be more shocked or horrified.

"Damn, I'm sorry to hear about Gretchen and Phoebe, Seven." She paused, searching for words. "But don't you think that now is when you should be with the captain, more than ever? She needs you."

"She will do nothing to resolve the situation. Worse, she refuses to allow me to resolve the situation."

"Maybe she can't. Would it kill you to be a little more understanding?"

Seven glared at the Klingon, irritated by the perceived lack of support. "She refuses to understand my point of view."

"Just because she doesn't agree with it, doesn't mean she doesn't understand it, Seven."

"This is Gretchen and Phoebe." The Borg was dismayed that B'Elanna could not seem to grasp the point.

"I realize that, but Starfleet probably has things under control. The last thing they need is a bunch of outraged family members mucking around." B'Elanna shook her head and leaned forward. "I know you don't want to hear this, Seven, and God knows, I never thought I'd find myself saying it, but they're not completely inept at Starfleet Command." She exhaled audibly. "You and standard procedure aren't exactly on the best of terms, but don't forget that you just finished probation. I don't think you can afford to jump back into a situation that could land you right back on it."

Seven's mouth twitched scornfully. "Do you truly believe I am the least bit concerned about that?"

B'Elanna shrugged. "Not particularly, but the captain might be." She tilted her head, her eyes softening. "There is one thing I don't understand, 'Nik. Why did you go to Lenara Kahn? You know you could have come to me."

She looked vaguely hurt and Seven felt guilty, even as she wondered why the Klingon was concentrating on such irrelevancies.

"You and Laren are also Kathryn's friends," she explained, finding it weak as the words left her mouth. The thought processes at the time made sense, but now, in the light of day, it did not sound as logical as it should have. "I would not put either of you in a position of being between us. It would be unfair."

The Klingon hesitated, thinking about it. "Maybe I can accept that, but Seven, you shouldn't have gone to her. Janeway believes you and Lenara could be more than friends, given half a chance."

"Kathryn is not jealous of Lenara." At least, Seven didn't think she was beyond that minor flare of possessiveness early on in Millennium's first mission.

B'Elanna was clearly skeptical. "Come on, 'Nik, you know better. Even if the captain accepted that you and Lenara are only friends, she can see that there are possibilities there that wouldn't exist with other people.

"Possibilities?"

B'Elanna regarded her, her dark eyes adamant. "Don't tell me you haven't noticed how good looking the Trill is."

Seven felt very uncomfortable. This conversation was not at all what she had expected to deal with in the aftermath of her argument with Kathryn. She had been prepared to defend her position to B'Elanna, even planned on swaying the Klingon over to her side in order to solidify any further appeals to the captain to alter course. Talking about Lenara threw her off stride.

"She is ... aesthetically pleasing," she admitted reluctantly.

"You and she work closely together, you're both at the same level intellectually, you enjoy spending time with each other in the Nexus ... how could Janeway not be jealous?"

"She does not display it."

"Maybe she just didn't have to before now." B'Elanna sighed. "Seven, jealousy, and how much it's indulged, is a matter of weighing the risk factors and calculating the odds of something actually happening. My sessions with Kes taught me that. You and Kathryn are fighting. Lenara can offer a shoulder to cry on, and a hell of a nice body to offer comfort. She's also this brilliant, beautiful scientist that you respect and admire. Come on, Seven, it ups the odds in a way that no reasonable person can overlook. Janeway probably thinks you went to Kahn because you'd rather be with her."

Seven stared at her, feeling a thin sliver of what might have been shame had she examined it closer. "That is not true. I love Kathryn. Even when I am angry with her, I still love her."

B'Elanna let out a sharp bark of laughter, harsh and uncompromising. "I know that, but what makes you think the captain does?"

Prompted to examine the idea, Seven assessed it as dispassionately as she could in her highly emotional state, and reluctantly came to the conclusion that perhaps the Klingon's comment could be valid.

"Lenara would never exploit this situation."

B'Elanna shrugged. "Maybe not, but she's certainly in the perfect position to do so and Janeway knows that. Seven, I know you wanted to hurt the captain by separating yourself from her, but you found a way to torture her, purely as a bonus." She looked vaguely approving, and somewhat dismayed of being so at the same time. "It's practically Klingon."

Stung, Seven forced herself to consider it further, not liking what she discovered. Had she reached out to Lenara because she knew it would hurt Kathryn far more than if she had reached out to any of her other friends? Despite her wish not to interfere with Ro and B'Elanna's relationship, she knew she could have found a safe place to stay with them. For that matter, she could have stayed by herself in one of the empty guest quarters on the ship while she regrouped. Choosing to spend a few nights in Lenara's company, regardless of what did or did not happen, was a clear indication of Seven's anger with Kathryn, perhaps a more deliberate sign than she had consciously realized.

B'Elanna let out her breath in a rush. "Thank Kahless we're not in the Confederation. You probably would have called up Tazna Jade and asked to stay on her ship while you worked things out. That would have poured even more salt into the wound." She dipped her head, catching Seven's gaze. "Are you really that mad at her, 'Nik?"

Seven felt a spasm in her chest. "I have never been more angry with her, or more disappointed."

B'Elanna blinked, absorbing that. "You must be," she said after a moment, "because usually when you're pissed, you just become more Borg and start dispassionately slicing off bits and pieces of whoever's involved, Janeway included. It's only when something directly affects the people you love that you start reacting with more emotion than sense."

Seven took a breath, suddenly made shaky and uncertain by the Klingon's blunt assessment of her actions. "I do not know how to repair this." The admission was difficult, but one she had to acknowledge. "I am ... unsure it can be repaired at this point."

B'Elanna looked alarmed. "Oh, 'Nik, don't say that. There's nothing so bad that it can't be repaired if the alternative is worse. Believe me, I know."

Seven shook her head. "Do you remember how I told you that I could demand things of Kathryn that no one else could, and she would acquiesce?"

"Uh huh."

Seven felt the twist in her stomach as if it had just happened. "I demanded that she return me to the Federation as soon as possible. She refused. Now, every moment that passes is another moment that prevents me from helping the people I love."

B'Elanna blinked. "Oh."

"I thought that she would do anything for me. I was wrong."

B'Elanna was silent a moment as she absorbed that. "So what does that mean?"

"I ... I don't know." Seven looked down at her hands, seeing them tremble, and she quickly put them on her lap, out of sight. Then she thought of her beloved Gretchen and her sister-in-law and felt her resolve harden. "She could be willing to make the sacrifice, rather than dismissing it out of hand."

"I doubt she dismissed it out of hand, Seven." B'Elanna exhaled slowly. "'Nik, you know I love you. We all do. But this is the part of you that we have difficulty with, and it doesn't grow easier with time."

Seven stared at her blankly. "The 'part' of me?"

"The part that gets the bit between your teeth and just keeps going with it. Sometimes I don't know how the captain puts up with it, but she does, better than anyone. Maybe because she's that way herself, a little bit."

Seven shook her head. "It is irrelevant. She has the choice. She refuses to make it."

"You mean, she refuses to make it in your favor," B'Elanna reminded her. "That doesn't make her wrong."

"It doesn't make her right." Seven's voice was raw.

The Klingon looked sad, clearly at a loss for words. For a long moment, both women stared at each.

"At least, move out of Lenara's quarters," B'Elanna said finally, softly. "Don't do something that you'll never recover from. Don't do anything that the captain will never recover from."

Seven found it difficult to think. She did not understand why the engineer insisted on harping on a topic that had nothing to do with the problem at hand.

"Lenara Kahn is my friend," she said tartly. "She will not harm me, or take advantage of this situation. I resent your implication."

B'Elanna's mouth firmed. She could be as stubborn as the Borg when she put her mind to it. More stubborn if Seven were to be completely accurate, and she knew her words had piqued the Klingon in a way to cause that obstinacy to rise to the surface.

"Seven, you're playing with fire, and you're too damned naive to know you're going to get burned."

Seven rose to her feet. "This conversation is over."

B'Elanna's eyes sparked, her own temper showing, but she didn't let it get out of control, taking a firm rein on it. Seven could see the effort it took. "Oh, it's not over, Seven. But you're not ready to listen to sense yet. I'll be back when you are."

Infuriated, Seven watched as the Klingon left, indignation radiating from every motion of her compact, muscular body. As the door hissed shut behind her, the Borg wished fervently that she had added more decor to her office, particularly the breakable kind.

At the moment, she wanted nothing more than to throw something and watch it shatter with impressive results.

Phoebe looked around their cell for what felt like the millionth time, seeing only the four gray walls, a cold cement floor and a shimmering force field for a ceiling. Even if she could make the energy field disperse through a loss of power or something equally unlikely, she would still have to figure out a way to scale the walls that were ten feet high. Not to mention finding a way to take her mother with her. Maybe Kathryn or Seven could do it, through Starfleet training or with Borg ingenuity, but Phoebe was an artist.

She could paint something tremendous on those smooth surfaces, but she didn't know how to climb them.

Despairing, Phoebe glanced over at Gretchen who sat quietly on the bunk, back against the wall with her knees drawn up to her chest and her eyes closed. The ordeal was taking a lot out of her, and for once, the Janeway matriarch was showing her age.

"Mom?" Concerned, Phoebe moved across the room and perched carefully on the edge of the dusty mattress. "Are you all right?"

"I should have listened to Michael," Gretchen said softly, without opening her eyes. "I should have respected the fact that he knew what he was talking about and maintained the security escort outside the park after Kathryn returned to space."

Phoebe felt helpless. "No one could have predicted this."

"There's been no crime on Earth for so long...." Gretchen lifted her head, exhaling slowly as she met Phoebe's concerned gaze. "We're Traditionalists. We hold to the old ways, but more importantly, we understand the old ways and why people did the things they did. That should include the bad along with the good. Just because Earth is a paradise now doesn't mean the rest of the universe is, or even the rest of the Federation. These people do what they do because they're desperate."

"They do what they do because they're greedy," Phoebe said flatly. She didn't know if the place was monitored, but she hoped it was. She was more than willing to let their captors know how very contemptible they were. "There are plenty of opportunities in the Federation for those who want to work to better themselves. The type who are attracted to the Syndicate are those who want something for nothing."

Gretchen regarded her a moment. "Perhaps," she allowed, "but regardless of the reason, we've become pieces in a much larger game."

"Yeah, one that Starfleet likes to play," Phoebe said bitterly. "I've been a piece in it all my life and I'm damned sick of it. It's bad enough to be kidnapped, but it's not even because of us or anything we've done. We're here because I have a sister who wants to gallivant around the galaxy and meddle in other people's lives."

Thin eyebrows lifted over the brilliant blue eyes. "You're blaming Kathryn for this?" The tone was incredulous, and slightly chiding in a way that only a mother can accomplish.

The artist set her jaw stubbornly. "No, I'm blaming Starfleet. Kathryn just happens to be the willing tool they used to do it." Phoebe knew she was being irrational but she was tired, hungry and scared, not necessarily in that order.

Gretchen stared at her sadly. "You can't mean that."

Phoebe couldn't hold her mother's gaze. "I do."

Gretchen's brows drew together. "I knew you resented the hold Starfleet held over Edward. Perhaps more than even you realized. But I didn't know it had extended to Kathryn."

"I don't think now is the time to talk about this, Mom." Phoebe tried for a bit of humor in her tone, but it fell flat. Gretchen, she saw, wasn't going to let it go, perhaps because it gave her something to concentrate on other than their current situation. The artist stifled a sigh. "Let's just say that having a starship captain for a sister isn't the easiest thing in the world."

Gretchen looked mildly amused. "I assure you, it's not easy having one for a daughter, either."

"Don't you ever get tired of it, Mom?" Phoebe asked earnestly. "I don't even mean this mess. We'll either get out of it or we won't. There's not much we can do about it at this point. What I mean is always taking second place to Starfleet. First with Dad, and now with half your children?"

Gretchen started to reply, paused, and took a moment to think about it. "Starfleet was a part of who Edward was," she said finally, in a very quiet voice. "I knew that when I married him. I knew there would be times his work would take priority over our marriage."

"But all the time?"

"It wasn't all the time, though I realize it's easy to think of it that way. He was gone more than he was home. I won't deny that. But I could have gone with him. It was my choice to remain on Earth and in Indiana."

"You still would have come second regardless of whether you went with him or not," Phoebe said with a touch of bitterness. "You just would have been alone in a different place."

Gretchen shook her head. "I'm sorry. I thought you had come to terms with this a long time ago, Phoebe. I knew Kathryn had problems with it, but..."

Phoebe was astonished. "Kathryn? My God, she's just like him. She followed so close in his footsteps, it's a wonder she didn't trod on his heels. She's the perfect daughter. Maybe that's why she was so upset after he died. She felt she had finally let him down."

The older woman smiled, a bittersweet curl to her aristocratic lips. "It's ironic how little we know the people we think we should know best. Phoebe, Kathryn was just as hurt by her father's absences as you were, maybe more so. She followed so closely in his footsteps because she desperately needed him. We just didn't see it in time. Your acting out, the late nights, the rebellious attitude from the time you were young, let us know from the beginning how much you needed his attention, and he tried his best to see you got it."

Phoebe frowned, not wanting to say what was on the tip of her tongue. Gretchen must have read the words in her eyes, however, because a shadow of hurt crossed her face.

"But it wasn't enough, I know," she said softly. "God knows, it wasn't enough for Kathryn. We did what we could for both you and your sister, but maybe we could have done better. I wish we had the opportunity to try."

Phoebe bowed her head, embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Mom. Like I said, this is neither the time nor the place."

Gretchen shrugged. "It's not as if we have anything else to talk about," she pointed out dryly. "Nor anywhere else to go."

Phoebe was rather hoping her mother would not notice that, or at least, not point it out. She exhaled and scooted up onto the bunk beside Gretchen, leaning against the wall and mimicking her position of knees up, with her arms wrapped around them.

"I'm not sure it will make any difference," she said quietly. "What's done is done and talking about it now won't change anything."

"It certainly can't change the past, but it could change your future." Gretchen slipped her arm around her daughter's shoulders. "You have to learn to forgive, Phoebe. Not for other people, but for yourself."

"I don't think it's that easy, Mom," she said, resting her chin on her knees. "And I realize it's not really Kathryn's or even Dad's fault. It's just how it was." She paused. "I guess I feel it more now that Kathryn's married. I worry that her being in Starfleet is going to hurt Annika in the same way we were hurt. I'd hate for that to happen."

"Seven's a very strong young woman," Gretchen told her quietly. "She won't become second to Starfleet beyond what she chooses to accept for Kathryn's sake. Furthermore, I think Kathryn knows that as well. She may not always show it. She may not even recognize it in herself, but when it comes down to what's truly important, she won't follow her father in this. She knows how important Seven is to her."

Phoebe considered that. "Are you saying Seven is stronger than you?"

"Not stronger," Gretchen said slowly, choosing her words with care. "Her needs are different from mine. I didn't need Edward the way Annika needs Kathryn. I'm not saying I loved him any less than she does my daughter, just that my sense of self wasn't as tied up with him as Seven's is with Kathryn."

"But that's why I worry about her, Mom." Phoebe exhaled, feeling a sense of helplessness that went beyond her current situation. She hadn't expected to care as much for Kathryn's eventual partner as she did when meeting Seven of Nine, but the young woman had become the little sister Phoebe had always wanted, the one that she felt needed the protecting in the family, far more than Kathryn did. "Seven is so innocent in so many ways. She doesn't always realize when Kathryn's pushing her aside."

"Oh, she realizes it," Gretchen said dryly. "You might want to worry more about your older sister in this matter, sweetheart. Annika will never stand for taking second place in Kathryn's life. She'll allow it only as far as it doesn't impact her directly. When it does, then she'll make Kathryn pay in the worst possible way."

Phoebe stared at her skeptically. "Really?"

Gretchen smiled. "I know everyone thinks of Seven as this even tempered person who always goes along with everything Kathryn wants, but the truth is, she decides how that marriage is going to be and always has. When she digs in her heels, Kathryn is the last person who can deny her."

Phoebe didn't know what to believe, aware her mother was an astonishing judge of character, her stopping to help their eventual kidnappers notwithstanding. But the artist also knew how it felt to always have to work for her father's attention, and with Kathryn so similar to him, she believed it would be exactly the same for Seven. She didn't want that for her sister-in-law. She cared for her too much.

"I don't know, Mom," she said doubtfully.

Gretchen merely smiled serenely. "Trust me."

Phoebe opened her mouth to respond to that when a noise above interrupted what she was about to say. Startled, and not a little afraid, she slipped off the bunk and stood up, looking at the force shield above them. Beside her, Gretchen slowly climbed to her feet, also regarding the opening above them.

The dark skinned Vulcan looked down at them and Phoebe grew faint. Was it time? Were they to be killed?

The shimmer of the force field disappeared and the woman regarded them impassively as she dropped down a rope ladder.

"If you want to live, come with me."

The captain lifted her head as the thin, metallic sound of the door chime echoed in her quarters, but it had to ring twice more before she was able to stir from the chair. Moving stiffly, like an old woman, she went over to grant admittance to whoever was so insistent on seeing her. It sounded as if he or she would just stay out there, ringing that annoying chime until the universe ended. Pressing the controls by the frame, the captain stepped back as the door hissed open to reveal her chief medical officer.

Kate Pulaski lifted a bottle of amber liquid. "You knew I'd be by sooner or later, Kathryn."

Janeway offered a listless glare, but didn't say anything as she returned to her chair, making no move to invite the doctor in. Nor did she care enough to see if the doctor would follow her into the quarters. She was finally over the awful numbness she had felt in the immediate aftermath of her conflict with Seven, but it had given way to a hurt, deep and profound, making it difficult for her to think and react in her normal manner.

Pulaski took a seat on the sofa across from her and set the bottle down on the table. "I was going to prescribe a few shots, but now that I see you, I realize that alcohol is the last thing you need. You look positively awful, Kathryn."

Janeway didn't respond to the chiding words, curling her legs up under her as she resumed her contemplation of the stars outside the viewport. The doctor hesitated, before leaning back on the sofa to watch her for another long moment. Finally, she could bear it no longer.

"This is ridiculous." Her tone was impatient. "Go to her, Kathryn."

"I can't." Janeway's voice was ragged, raw pain unconcealed. She knew there was no more commander left, only the woman, bewildered and alone on a sea of misery. She couldn't hide anything from the medical officer, nor even make the attempt to do so. It was completely beyond her ability at the moment.

Pulaski exhaled in exasperation. "Don't do this, Kathryn. Don't let pride make you throw away the best thing you have."

"It's not about pride." A touch of outrage flared dully as she turned to face the medical officer.

Pulaski shook her head. "It's exactly what it's about. Seven's hurt you, probably more than she realizes, but getting past the pain is what you have to do. The longer this goes on, the harder it will be."

Janeway looked away, tears burning her eyes and the back of her throat. "She moved in with Lenara. She wouldn't have done that if she wasn't already finished with me." Her voice broke. "I'm not ready for her to be finished with me. I'm not ready for her to tell me it's over."

Pulaski held up an admonishing finger. "Don't assume, Kathryn. Lenara Kahn is her friend. Seven went to her because she had nowhere else to go."

"There's B'Elanna."

"Who's married to Ro, who's the closest thing that you have as a friend on this ship. Seven knows this and wouldn't want to become a possible bone of contention between them. Give her that much credit, Kathryn."

Janeway shook her head. "Lenara can give her everything I can't," she whispered. "She'll never put Seven second to some esoteric duty."

"Don't be so sure of that," Pulaski offered with a note of cynicism, and Janeway wondered what she knew that would make the doctor say that with such apparent surety. Pulaski took a breath. "Even if she could, Kathryn, that doesn't mean Seven wants to be with her. She wants to be with you. I might not know her as well as some other people on this ship, but I do know you're the only person she loves, and will probably ever love this way. Don't let what is basically a difference of opinion turn into something bigger and more costly than it has to be."

"She's never left me before," Janeway said starkly. "She only threatened to do it once, and that was bad enough. Even when she needs space to work things out, it only takes an hour or so before she comes back to tell me exactly how it's going to be." She found it hard to catch her breath. "This has been days. She won't speak to me. She won't be in the same room with me if she can avoid it..."

"And it's starting to affect the ship," Pulaski said dryly.

Anger flared. "I don't give a damn about the ship!"

For a moment, the doctor and Janeway stared at each other, the words hanging heavily between them. Finally, Pulaski nodded slowly. "You'd better tell her that."

Janeway caught her breath, unable to accept the words ... the truth ... that had just slipped out. "It's not that simple."

"No, I don't suspect it is," Pulaski agreed. "Starfleet means a lot to you, Kathryn, but does it really mean more to you than she does?"

"Oh, God." Janeway put her hands over her face. "I don't want it to."

"Then choose."

"It doesn't change the fact that if I had to let her die to save the ship..."

Pulaski held up a hand, interrupting her. "That's not what this is about, Kathryn. I know what you'd sacrifice to protect those under your command. Seven knows it, too. This is a lot harder. You can always die for the uniform. You can even accept that Seven can and will die for the uniform if it's required. This is about giving up your life for the uniform, and that's different."

Janeway dropped her hands, lifting her gaze to meet the doctor's. "I can't ... I don't understand."

"I think you do," Pulaski said softly. "It's what your father did. He gave up his life for Starfleet, never realizing what it was costing. Dying's easy, Kathryn. Making the compromises to be with another person in your life while living up to a higher ideal is so much harder." She looked every bit her age suddenly, each line and wrinkle clearly defined. "Maybe he never realized how bad the choices he made were until he was staring at his own death through the windshield of that cockpit, knowing that his entire life had led up to that moment. He died for the uniform, Kathryn, but he also lived for it, letting it take him away from your mother and you kids more than it had to. Don't make the same mistake. Don't let Starfleet cost you your life."

The words were so profoundly hurtful and devastating that Janeway never stopped to wonder how the doctor could possibly know so much about Edward Janeway and what choices he made in his life. All she could think of was what it would mean if Seven didn't come back, if she didn't have her in her life, being so much a part of her that being without her was like ripping a piece of her soul away.

"What if... what if she is with Kahn?"

Pulaski hesitated. "Kathryn, even if Seven could have feelings for someone else, it wouldn't have happened that quickly. You know that."

Janeway closed her eyes, feeling her heart break. "What if she just doesn't want to be with me? What if ... what if it really is over?"

"Then, at least, you'll know." Pulaski lifted a brow. "And be able to move on from there."

Janeway found it highly unlikely she would be able to move on in any kind of way, but didn't dare say it. Just the thought of it was enough to make her want to run away somewhere and hide, to find comforting darkness and never see the light of day again.

Pulaski stared at her a moment, and shook her head sadly. "So this is what it's like on the inside of one of your fights. I remember I once said that I would love to be a fly on the wall for one of your arguments with Seven. You told me that I really didn't, and you were right. To be privy to this, and see what it demands of you, is painful."

"Believe me, it's a lot more painful to experience," Janeway muttered.

The doctor frowned. "So fix it. Stop wallowing in 'what ifs' and do something about it. How is waiting going to make it any better?"

"Seven's not ready..." Janeway began.

"Ready for what? For you to knock some sense into her head? Stop worrying about what Seven is ready for. Don't let your fear of driving her away let her off the hook. She's responsible for her actions, both to herself and to you. Settle this, one way or the other. It'll be best for both of you in the long run."

The captain felt very weary. "Do you even know what this is all about?"

The doctor shrugged. "All I know is that Seven moved in with Lenara and that you two are having problems. The entire ship knows that. What caused it has something to do with a priority message from Starfleet, though I can't possibly imagine what they could have said that would cause such a conflict between the two of you."

Janeway felt her throat close. "My mother and sister have been abducted by the Orion Syndicate. I was ordered to continue my mission. Seven demanded that I turn the ship around and return to the Federation. I told her I couldn't ... that I wouldn't."

"Oh."

For the first time since Janeway had met the doctor, Pulaski appeared at a loss for words. An uncomfortable silence fell between them, the sort born of shared experience. Last time a similar situation had arisen, it had been Pulaski demanding that Janeway turn the ship around. The captain hadn't done it then. For a multitude of reasons, some she wasn't entirely sure of herself, she didn't think she could do it this time either.

"It still doesn't change anything, Kathryn," Pulaski decided finally. "Seven is still the most important thing in the universe to you. Go make it right, even if you have to do the wrong thing for Starfleet and for your career."

Janeway felt her breath catch again, a sharp hitch in her chest. "You think it's that easy."

"Of course it's not easy, Kathryn," Pulaski said patiently, as if to a child. "It's the most difficult decision you'll probably have to make, harder than ordering the ship away from a situation that will destroy it, all the while knowing that you're leaving Seven behind to certain death. Those kind of decisions are what makes you a Starfleet captain. This is something different. This is the kind that you both have to live with. It's about your life and how you're going to live it from this moment forth. Don't give Seven up for something that you won't find worth having without her."

Janeway felt her heart break, a tangible snap within her chest. "If I do this thing," she whispered, "If I give it all up to do as she asks, will I spend the rest of my life resenting her for it?"

Pulaski looked every bit as bad as the captain felt. "I don't know," she told her gently. "I can't answer that. Only you can. There's no right or wrong here, Kathryn. It's just trying to do the best you can with a bad situation."

Janeway laughed bitterly. "Making lemonade from lemons?"

Pulaski smiled with bittersweet regret. "Something like that."

Janeway looked at the stars out the viewport, wondering if she could really give them up for the woman she loved. What was it which scared her most?

That she wouldn't do it?

Or that she actually could.

Seven was still greatly disturbed by B'Elanna's words as she entered Kahn's quarters, and she paused uncertainly when she saw Lenara seated at the small table in the corner of the room, sipping from a mug that contained what she knew would be raktajino. The concepts that the Klingon had presented to Seven remained fresh in her mind, and suddenly, she felt very awkward around the Trill, not knowing what to do or say next.

"Join me, Seven?"

Lenara lifted up her mug, indicating that she wanted the Borg to have a cup of Klingon coffee and chat, just as they had countless times before. For a second, Seven hesitated, then irritably shoved aside the sudden doubts. Lenara had not changed. Only Seven's perception of her, and only because B'Elanna had forced the Borg to confront the matter in a way she had not expected. Seven knew she had no romantic feelings for the scientist, and she sincerely doubted that the Trill held any for her. Lenara certainly had not indicated any in the time they had known each other.

"Thank you." The Borg sat down as Lenara retrieved another mug of raktajino. Sipping it carefully, respectful of its strong nature, Seven regarded the Trill surreptitiously. Lenara gazed back at her, infinitely placid, not saying anything at all.

"Is there something you want, Lenara?" the young woman asked finally, unable to maintain her silence. She knew she was usually more patient than this, but when her emotions were in a turmoil, she was very far from the Borg she believed herself to be.

Lifting a brow, as if surprised, Lenara smiled. "Not to my knowledge." She paused, sweeping Seven's face with a look of keen evaluation. "Should I want something from you?"

The Borg felt uncomfortable. "No."

Lenara stared at her a moment longer.

"May I ask you a question, Seven?"

Reluctantly, the Borg inclined her head, indicating assent.

"Have you left the captain?"

Seven twitched. "I ... currently require space," she said after a moment. "I did not leave her."

"A few hours is space, Seven. Three days might be considered a separation." Lenara picked up her mug and sipped slowly. "She certainly might consider it to be a separation."

"I am less concerned with what Kathryn thinks than I have ever been." Seven saw that shocked the Trill, but the anger was still strong, and now that she was holding this position, she wasn't entirely sure how to relinquish it. She truly believed that Janeway was wrong for not returning to the Federation, for not allowing Seven to become involved in the situation. Not even B'Elanna had shaken that certainty. "Her opinion is irrelevant in this matter."

Lenara shook her head. "I've lived a lot of lifetimes, Seven. Running away is never the answer."

"I have not run away." Seven's hands were shaking and she clasped them tightly together on the table to hide that obvious sign of her agitation. "I simply cannot be with her right now."

"Fair enough." Lenara sighed. "At least you're willing to talk about it. Until now, I didn't even dare bring it up."

"I do not believe anything has changed," Seven said starkly. "I still do not want to discuss it." Especially after her unsatisfying conversation with B'Elanna.

Lenara considered that, and then shrugged. "Even so, Seven, it's gone on for too long at this point. It's time to address the issue. Tell me what precipitated this and perhaps, together, we can come up with some sort of acceptable resolution."

It wasn't what Seven wanted to do, but the Trill had her pinned with one of those looks that conveyed the depth of her three hundred years of great wisdom, and before she knew it, the Borg was explaining everything about the message from Starfleet, the dire straits her family was in, and the nature of the conflict between herself and her partner. The only thing she managed to hold back ... because she thought it irrelevant ... was what B'Elanna had said about Seven's choice for sanctuary. When she was through, Lenara shook her head thoughtfully.

"Seven, you told me yourself that Janeway was prepared to sacrifice you for the ship ... and that you completely understood and accepted it. How is this different?"

Seven stared at her. "This isn't about me. This is Gretchen!"

"And you believe you are or should be less important to her than her mother? In truth, Seven, I believe you are far more precious to her. You're her family. That doesn't mean that she loves her original family less, but this is how it works. You grow up, you leave the nest, you begin your own family and that becomes the most important to you. It's practically a biological instinct, and I believe the captain would sacrifice her mother long before she would let you die."

Seven did not want to believe that, but assessing the Trill's earnest features, she knew that Lenara believed it to be true.

Lenara sighed softly, as if knowing how difficult this was for the Borg. "Tell me, Seven. I know you love Gretchen and Phoebe dearly, but if you could only save one of the three, would you really choose either of them over Kathryn?"

Seven swallowed. "That is not a fair question."

Lenara shrugged. "Who told you life is fair? You, of all people, assimilated at age six, should know that."

"But this is not a matter of choosing between my safety and theirs," Seven argued strenuously. "Kathryn is choosing duty over her family. Choosing Starfleet over those she loves."

"But we've already established that she would sacrifice you for the ship. Logically, it follows that she would be equally capable of sacrificing her mother and sister for the ship."

"The ship is not at risk."

"How long would it take to prepare a safe return, Seven? To do it as quickly as you need to do it would put the crew at grave risk. By the time we could return safely, the whole thing will be over, one way or the other."

"You can't know that."

Lenara lifted her hand. "You're right, I don't, but I do have a sense of how these things go, as you would if you'd only take a moment to think about it. The more time that passes, the less likely anyone will be alive at the end of it. A week is too long."

Seven's head went back, rocked, and the Trill quickly reached out her hand to grasp the Borg's wrist apologetically.

"I'm sorry. That's not how I wanted to say that." The Trill paused, searching for the words. "Seven, honestly, what do you think the captain could do on Earth if she really did throw away her career and return? Starfleet probably has this well under control, and even if Janeway showed up there in the next minute, pips and authority intact, they still wouldn't allow her to interfere with their operation. She'd be too personally involved."

"I would not allow Starfleet to stop me." Seven's voice was icy.

"Indeed? You truly believe you would succeed when Starfleet Intelligence might fail?"

Seven stared at her blankly. "Of course."

Despite the situation, Lenara laughed. It penetrated Seven's anger in a way that nothing else would have. "Ah, Borg arrogance. There's nothing like it." The look the Trill offered cut the young woman to the quick. "Annika, you told me about the incident with Section 31. I'm not sure you should have, but regardless, I thought it taught you something about rushing into a situation blindly. Didn't it show you that all your assimilated knowledge doesn't always compensate for experience? Do you really think your approach to this situation would be better than Starfleet Intelligence, who do this kind of thing for a living?"

Seven felt her cheeks warm, remembering that time with painful clarity. "Perhaps not, but if Starfleet Intelligence were truly competent, then Gretchen and Phoebe would not now be at risk."

Lenara exhaled quietly. "Maybe, but unless Gretchen and Phoebe were willing to live in a box, as I suspect they refused to do, then no security system is perfect."

Seven, conscious of how Gretchen kept Michael to a minimum when it came to altering the farm's technical systems, which were primitive at best, could not disagree with that assessment. In fact, the Traditionalist had only gone along with most of the changes put in place because it had been Janeway and Seven supposedly at risk. She never would have done it for herself, and Seven had no doubt that Gretchen had quickly phased out the security measures once her daughter and daughter-in-law returned to space.  She was a great deal like Kathryn in that way.

The Trill watched the play of emotion on the young woman's face, undoubtedly recognizing the thought process if not what she was actually thinking. "Her reaction to your recent decision to reprogram your nanoprobes shows that Janeway has accepted you for who you are, Seven," she said with almost impossible gentleness. "Perhaps you've never really accepted her for who she is, despite all your perfect words, because until now, it's never really been tested. Words and ideals are easy in the abstract. They're so very difficult to live with in reality." She caught her breath, almost as if something hurt her inside, catching her unexpectedly. "Believe me, I know."

"I could still assist in their rescue," Seven insisted weakly, responding to the pain in the Trill's eyes.

"Your help may be the last thing Gretchen and Phoebe needs."

Seven blinked, taken aback by the blunt words. Lenara narrowed her eyes, as if she had just perceived an opening and was determined to exploit it.

"Not so long ago, you sat in your office and told me that you would kill me without hesitation if it meant that Janeway would be safe. You said it very dispassionately, and at the time, I took it somewhat romantically, as I'm sure many others do, but since then, I've thought about it. What it really means is that when you're in this state, you're extremely dangerous. Perhaps more dangerous than you have a right to be. I realize that if your emotional turmoil is directed correctly, then it can be useful. It's useful to Starfleet, it's useful to the captain, it's even useful to yourself because you're capable of great things while operating under such stress. But what happens when you're not at liberty to act? What happens when someone has to temper that anger and bring it back under control?

She leaned forward. "What happens when the immovable object your irresistible force confronts is the person you love more than anything else. Janeway can't be just your spouse in this, or even her mother's daughter, she also has to be your captain and the member of Starfleet capable of seeing the bigger picture. That means she has to be able to put aside her own hurt and despair to keep you from doing something unforgivable."

Seven found it difficult to breath, mesmerized by the Trill's words. Cutting through her anger with an incredible clarity, she began to have a measure of what she had done, and why she might have done it.

And what it was undoubtedly costing her spouse.

"And how do you think Janeway feels right now, having to be that immovable object?"

Lenara was regarding the Borg curiously, almost as if Seven's response was of great, scientific interest to her. Finding it hard to maintain her equilibrium, Seven considered concepts that she was not really ready to deal with, though as she examined them, she knew them to be true ... perhaps more true than she could bear. She wanted to hang on to her fury, not be forced to abandon it because the emotion might prove to be a mistake, or worse, be completely misguided.

A sudden chime at the door offered an escape, and with a sense of relief, Seven sat back in her seat. Lenara looked annoyed but quickly rose to attend to whoever had chosen such an inopportune time to visit her. The Borg decided that she was more grateful for the interruption than she should be, but the conversation with Lenara had made her very uncomfortable and she needed more time to think.

As the door hissed open, she glanced over and abruptly realized that her time was up.

Captain Kathryn Janeway stood in the entrance, her dark grey eyes focused on Seven with all the intensity of a thunderstorm about to unleash.

"I knew it," Gretchen murmured. "I knew a Vulcan wouldn't be a criminal."

The woman shot a look at her, one elegant eyebrow rising slightly. "That is an erroneous assumption," she said in her quiet voice. "My presence here is the result of the capture and incarceration of a Vulcan criminal. She was very good at what she did, and her reputation among the criminal element was enough to allow me easy entry into the Orion Syndicate."

"They didn't realize she'd been replaced?" Gretchen was fascinated.

"The individual in question was not in the habit of revealing much about herself. Even her crimes were undertaken while wearing a variety of disguises." Asil tilted her head. "It has come to my attention that, to many species, all Vulcans look alike."

Gretchen blinked. "Was that a joke?"

Phoebe, crouched beside them behind a stack of cargo containers, let out her breath in exasperation. "Could we have this discussion another time?" she hissed. "It's not as if we're out of the woods, just yet."

The other women looked at the artist, but didn't dispute her assertion that their escape was still in doubt. Gretchen had just been so relieved to be away from the cramped confines of their cell, that she momentarily forgot they were still in somewhat dire straits.

"Why didn't you wait for Starfleet?" Phoebe whispered with a touch of testiness in her tone. She had been on edge since crawling out of their cell, her nerves jittery as they skulked through the corridors to this cargo area filled with battered shipping containers.  The boxes showed evidence of recent use, sitting on an area of the floor that was free of dirt. This was in contrast to an assorted stockpile of items set further back against the walls. Covered with dust, they appeared to have been there for some time.Cobwebs hung in dark corners and Gretchen found her nose twitching constantly in an effort to hold back a sneeze.

"I could not," Asil told them. "Even though we wished to discover the secret backers behind the syndicate's recent resurgence, it was clear to me such a window of opportunity would only come with unacceptable collateral damage."

Gretchen frowned and Phoebe looked queasy. "You mean, they were going to kill us."

Asil nodded. "They did not want their backers to discover they had abducted you. Apparently, they were acting outside their parameters, a matter of revenge rather than business."

"Nice to know," the artist said grimly.

Gretchen didn't agree. She could have lived very nicely without knowing it.

"What went wrong?" Asil looked at her inquiringly and the elder Janeway elaborated. "If they simply wanted us dead, they could have killed us where they took us. Why now?"

"The Federation refused to exchange syndicate members currently imprisoned for your safe return. They also refused to offer weapons or monetary funds. Starfleet, obviously, has been stalling them, but they could not know their time was running out."

There was a silence. "Glad to know we were worth that much to the Syndicate," Phoebe mumbled finally. "They asked a lot for us."

"Be silent," Asil murmured, peering over the container.

Gretchen felt a thrill of fear shiver through her as she saw the hulking form of Ricardo enter the small warehouse. She had managed to keep it under control the entire time she had crawled up the rope ladder that swayed precariously under her weight. Even while she followed the slim Vulcan through the narrow corridors of the building where they had been taken, she had stayed calm. She supposed she had managed it because she was trying very hard not to think about the fact that if they were caught, they would probably be immediately killed. Now, seeing the threat in living color, she was hard pressed not to panic, terror a thick and unpleasant taste in her mouth.

Phoebe seemed to sense it, her hand creeping over to seek out her mother's, squeezing it warmly. It helped calm Gretchen, though her anxiety level shot up through the stratosphere once more when she looked over and discovered their Vulcan protector had vanished. From the stunned look on her face, Phoebe hadn't seen her leave either, and the two women shared a wild glance of dismay and fear before huddling deeper into the shadows of the cargo container sheltering them.

Peering cautiously around the corner, Gretchen saw Ricardo cross the room slowly, a rifle of some kind carried lightly in his large hands. It looked like a toy in his grip, but the Janeway matriarch knew better. It was very real, and she doubted its settings held a stun level.

A flicker of movement caught her eyes, and before she could blink, a slender form detached itself from another container. A flash of something silver, possibly a blade, plunged into the bulk of Ricardo as he grappled with the form. He staggered and fell to the floor, his attacker snatching the rifle before it hit the smooth concrete surface.

Caught between horror and a sort of uncivilized admiration, Gretchen and Phoebe remained where they were, staring at their benefactor before an abrupt motion from her hand indicated it was all right for them to join her. Gretchen tried not to look at the body sprawled over the floor, a crimson stain spreading around the torso.

"Hold this." Asil thrust the rifle into Phoebe's hands, the artist so startled that she almost dropped it before managing to tighten her grip.

Taking the dead man's shoulders, Asil pulled him effortlessly behind some other containers, temporarily concealing the body, though it did little for the streak of blood indicating clearly where he'd been dragged. Gretchen looked around, and in a fit of inspiration, spotted some discarded cloths nearby. She used them to mop up the excess blood, aware of Asil's gaze of stoic approval, and her daughter's look of mingled horror and astonishment.

"Mom, what are you doing?"

Gretchen didn't respond, wiping her hands quickly on the remaining unstained portion of the cloth before tossing it onto the body behind the container. When she joined the Intelligence officer and her daughter, Phoebe's expression was one that Gretchen thought she would tuck away and cherish from time to time in the future ... assuming they ever got out of this mess.

Asil carefully took the rifle away from the artist and nodded her head in the direction of the door. "You've been missed. They are searching the facility."

"Where are we, anyway?"

Both Gretchen and Phoebe had been blindfolded and gagged on their journey to their current place of incarceration. They had even been drugged at one point, losing consciousness before waking up in the small cell. For all Gretchen knew, they could have been insensible for days, taken vast distances on a starship. They might not even be in the Federation.

"We're still on Earth," Asil revealed, relieving that particular fear. "They have been unable to make arrangements to leave the planet prior to this. Starfleet has everything locked down, and of course, it is almost impossible to arrange an unauthorized transport from Earth to an orbiting vessel. A ship with advanced cloaking technology is the only possible way to make a transfer possible without being detected." Asil lifted an eyebrow, her full lips firming into a thin line. "Yet, that is what Vicarny indicated was about to occur. That's why their plans regarding your continued survival had altered. They could not take you with them."

Gretchen blinked. "What kind of backing could provide a cloaked ship that would remain undetected by Starfleet?"

Asil looked vaguely grim, or about as grim as it was possible for a Vulcan to look. "One of considerable means and resources." Gretchen twitched, realizing that Asil was referring to something on a governmental scale.

"Why would they need the Syndicate, then?" Phoebe inquired as they slunk out of the cargo bay and back into the corridors that seemed endless.

"A very good question," Asil allowed. "One I am unsure I can answer."

Gretchen thought the Vulcan could and just didn't want spare the time to do so at the moment. It was obviously a power that could not operate within the Federation, or even against them openly, yet wanted to provide disruption and conflict to Starfleet. An enemy of the past, and perhaps of the future, possibly the Ferengi, or the Romulans, or even the mysterious Breen.

Or even the Cardassians, though they had been decimated by the Dominion War. Gretchen didn't put anything past the treacherous aliens who had cost her and her family considerable heartache in the past. They may be supposed allies at the moment, but there had been past treaties and agreements that had done little to keep them from acting against the Federation whenever they had the opportunity. She did not think that had changed, no matter how weak they were politically.

She glanced at the Vulcan, wondering what she suspected or guessed about these mysterious backers. Whatever it was, the impassive features, more handsome than pretty, offered little clue into Asil's thought processes.

"Where are we going?" Phoebe had to stop to catch her breath after they slunk up several levels, avoiding any searchers by virtue of Asil's superior hearing. The Vulcan made them hide several times in rooms that showed signs of once being offices of some kind, long abandoned, keeping them there until she indicated it was time to move on.

"What is this place?" Gretchen asked in the same breath.

"It is an underground facility located in the Arctic," Asil explained as she waited for the other two to regain their strength, showing no hint of impatience though Gretchen knew she must have been. "We are attempting to reach the surface where I can generate a signal to Starfleet without it being blocked by the internal dampening system."

"The surface?"

"Abandoned?"

Again, both women spoke together, and glanced at each other, embarrassed. Phoebe nodded, indicating her mother should speak.

"I didn't think anything on Earth was abandoned," she protested to the Vulcan. "Every square inch of the planet is carefully maintained, either as an ecological refuge left pristine, or restructured to provide the most pleasant living space for the planet's inhabitants. I don't think our planetary government would leave this as it is."

"They would if it was part of a monument," Phoebe offered thoughtfully, before Asil could respond to Gretchen. "Particularly a monument that isn't really visited very often." She glanced at the Vulcan who regarded her approvingly. "This is the facility where Khan Noonien Singh saw the last of his empire crumble. It's been maintained by automated systems as a kind of museum, an acknowledgment of one of the greatest mistakes in our history, but so few people remember it's even here that it only is visited once in a great while. Every so often, once a decade or so, it comes up for review about the resources expended to maintain it, but since they're so limited, no one's really bothered to dismantle it."

"It is a very efficient facility, constructed with systems that were very advanced for their time, and even for present day," Asil agreed. "It taps into geothermal energy for power, and the materials used in construction were created by the same genetically enhanced beings that ran Singh's armies."

"It's also a very large facility," Phoebe said, her brow furrowed as she fought to remember details. Gretchen wondered how she remembered it at all, then was reminded of a school trip that the artist had taken in university. Apparently, somewhere in the depths of the vast underground bunker, there were walls painted by Noonien Singh himself, a self serving ode to his failed aspirations in the form of a mural.

"Yes, and the Syndicate has few personnel. That limits their ability to find us quickly."

"How many are left?" Phoebe asked as they resumed their painful journey to the surface. Gretchen wondered what they'd do when they got there. It was summer in the Arctic at the moment, but that didn't necessarily translate into survivable conditions, particularly dressed as she was in jeans, a light blouse, and a blazer that were quite uncomfortable and actually smelled rancid after almost a week.

"Without Ricardo, who was the chief enforcer, there are four others."

Gretchen had a moment's pause as she thought of how quickly and efficiently Asil had disposed of the Syndicate enforcer. Of course, Vulcans were not the sort to have moral repercussions beyond the basic hesitation over taking a life. Asil would have not have killed him had there been a logical reason not to do so. Since she had, it was logical that she did. A circular argument, perhaps, but one that Gretchen thought she understood.

"This way," Asil instructed, motioning them forward.

Gretchen could feel the temperature dropping as they ascended the final level, and she shivered as they paused near a door constructed much like a starship airlock. Even through the thickness of these walls, she could feel the brutal cold seeping in and understood why the structure had been constructed underground.

"Are you going outside?" she whispered.

"We all are," Asil said dispassionately. "I concealed cold weather clothing here for just this contingency." She went over to a container similar to those in the storage area, opening the top to reveal white garments, bulky and thick. "Dress quickly. Eventually, they will determine that leaving the facility is our only option."

Phoebe opened her mouth as if to argue, hesitated, and meekly accepted the bulky garment. They were all too big, intended for much larger people than the three women, but the suits would be warm and provide a necessary layer of protection against the elements. Gretchen donned hers without hesitation, the outfit sagging around her middle and legs, the sleeves falling well over her arms and hands. It was difficult to put on the accompanying gloves, and she discovered she was sweating by the time she had accomplished it.

The bitter air outside snatched her breath away as she stepped out of the airlock, and she stumbled on the granules of snow under her feet. The boots to the snow suit were far too large to walk in so they had been left behind, and the cold immediately bit through the tooled western boots Gretchen was wearing. She suspected Phoebe was no better off in her running shoes, while Asil was wearing simple, starship boots.

This has to be done quickly, she thought, as pain radiated up her legs, or we'll freeze to death long before help arrives.

They tramped around the curve of the building, only a small mound rising from the drifted snow and ice to indicate a structure existed. It may have been summer in the Arctic, but there was a wind blowing, and even with their protective garments, they could not survive long.

Asil had barely drawn out a device from her pocket when four figures appeared from the airlock. They had been closer than any of them feared, and the women went still as weapons were raised in their direction.

"What the hell are you doing, T'Purn?" Vicarny snapped as he stalked forward and snatched the device from her hand. He examined it and muttered an oath. "A communicator. Are you trying to cut your own deal?" He handed it to one of his underlings and regarded the Vulcan. He almost looked hurt, and belatedly, Gretchen realized that the syndicate leader still thought he was dealing with a fellow criminal, rather than a Starfleet Intelligence officer. Despairingly, she wondered if that would grant them any extra time beyond what appeared to be measured in minutes.

"Killing them is a waste of resources." To Asil's credit, she attempted to maintain the role, taking advantage of the misunderstanding. "We can still gain some profit from this situation if we keep them alive."

Vicarny shook his head. "I thought I explained it to you. They're resources we can't afford if we're going to get off this rock in one piece. Our partners are upset enough that we wasted time trying to buy our brothers out of jail rather than just fulfilling the vendetta. We're lucky they're still willing to provide a way out. We have to finish this now, before that changes and we're left with nothing at all." He made a gesture and two of his people raised their weapons. "I'm going to let this go because I can understand wanting to try for your own advantage, but if it happens again, I'll have no choice. It's the Syndicate way or no way."

He took her arm and drew her away from Gretchen and Phoebe, leaving the two women alone in the wind, targeted by the criminal's weapons. Gretchen wished Asil the best, hoping the Vulcan would have a chance to maintain her cover and find out who was helping the syndicate ... hoping their deaths would mean something in the long run. An odd sort of peace had descended upon her and her only regret was that Phoebe was with her. Unbidden, her hand reached out and she took her daughter's arm, pulling her close to her.

Vicarny looked almost regretful as he raised his hand to make another gesture, clearly an indication for his people to fire. The movement was interrupted by a yelp from the fourth member of the party who had been frowning over the device taken from the Vulcan.

"Vicarny, this is Starfleet issue."

Startled, Vicarny looked back at him and the other two hesitated. "What?"

"It's Starfleet issue," the other man said. "Intelligence property. It was in the specs they sent to us."

Vicarny's face twisted and he turned to Asil, anger flaring. "You weren't just trying to stab us in the back, were you? This is some kind of operation."

Asil did not say anything, merely lifted an eyebrow. With a curse, he shoved her back toward the other women and she did not resist. Just as she reached them, she appeared to stumble, colliding heavily with Phoebe. Her hand snaked out and grabbed Gretchen as well, and all three fell to the ground as a sudden hum surrounded them. Gretchen didn't know what was happening and she floundered in the snow, pinned by the heavier weight of the Vulcan as Phoebe cursed and sputtered in her ear.

"Be still," Asil demanded and Gretchen blinked as flashes of what could only be weapons fire singed the air above them. Abruptly subdued, both Gretchen and Phoebe cowered on the ground, feeling the chill snow melt against their faces, unable to see much from their vantage point.

Suddenly, there was silence and Gretchen felt hands grabbing at her, yanking her up from the ground. Furious, she tried to fight back as best she could, the peacefulness gone and only the desire not to go quiet into that good night left to her. She managed to get one solid kick into a knee before she got a good look at the frightened and familiar features of the man gripping her arms.

"Michael!" Then she was being grabbed in a bear hug that threatened to steal the breath from her lungs.

"Are you all right?" he demanded, his voice a trembling mix of fear and exasperation.

"I'm fine," she assured him, and hugged him back as tightly as she could. "How did you find me?"

She drew back enough to look into his face, seeing the haggard expression and knowing how much this had taken out of him.

"Tuvok's daughter managed to get a signal to us," he explained. "We've had a team waiting for days, ready to transport to her location at an instant's notice."

Startled, she looked over his shoulder at the dark female who was gravely greeting another Vulcan, a male that Gretchen recognized as her daughter's ex-chief of security. Phoebe was standing beside two burly Starfleet officers, looking dazed and very confused. The elder Janeway briefly wondered where the Syndicate members were before she saw the huddled bodies, dark against the snow.

"Stunned?" Her tone was uncertain. They were lying very still.

Michael looked extremely weary, his handsome features wan. "We didn't know what kind of personal force fields they might have been wearing. We couldn't afford to take the chance with phasers. We used disrupters."

Gretchen exhaled slowly. "Oh." Then she became aware that her feet were like two blocks of ice at the end of her legs. "Can we go home now?"

"Oh, God, yes." He groaned and swept her up in another hug. "We can go home now."

Lenara looked at the captain, and then back at Seven. "Annika? Do you want me to let her in?"

Janeway was livid. How dare this ... this civilian ... presume to bar the captain from anywhere she wanted to go on her own ship. The tone had actually been possessive, as if the Trill had a right to run interference between them. As if she had the privilege to protect Seven from the captain.

Janeway's heart gave a sudden thud inside, and her rage drained away like water from a bathtub. Maybe Kahn did have that right, she thought despondently, wanting to crumple up and die. Maybe Seven had granted it to the Trill in preparation of giving the rest of herself to her. Maybe it was all too late and everything the captain had discovered about what she would and wouldn't do for her spouse was all for naught.

Seven stood up. Shooting a look at Lenara, she dipped her head. "It is all right," she said softly. "You were correct. This has gone on long enough."

The civilian scientist hesitated before nodding briefly. "I'll be in the Nexus if you need me."

She glanced at the captain as she passed her, faltered as she saw the look in the stormy grey eyes, and quickly made her exit. Janeway turned her attention to the Borg, recognizing the icy cast to her narrow features, knowing the young woman was not at all pleased to see her, but also knowing that she couldn't let that stop her. For both their sakes, she had to know where they stood with each other and their marriage.

And whether she had a chance at all to reclaim what she had lost.

"Are you sleeping with her?" The words slipped out harsh and raw, and not at all what she wanted to say. She wanted to snatch them back as soon as they left her mouth, but it was too late.

Seven lifted an eyebrow, looking vaguely startled. "If Lenara and I were intimate, if my feelings for her, and for you, had altered, then I would inform you of it immediately."

Janeway knew that to be true, but she was scared and angry and terribly hurt. "Maybe you're informing me of it now," she said in a stark voice.

The reply was swift and sure "I am not."

The captain had never been able to deny Seven's insistence on brutal honesty. She could not deny it now, as much as her fear and pain wanted her to. It was something she trusted even when she couldn't trust herself. "Then why did you leave me?"

"I did not leave you." Seven's full mouth twisted "I came to Lenara's quarters because she is my friend and I required a friend at this time. To remain in your presence would have resulted in further recriminations between us, leading to something that was perhaps beyond our ability to repair."

"Can we fix this?" Janeway didn't recognize her own voice.

Seven hesitated, as if the words had bit in a way she hadn't experienced before. It actually took a moment before she responded, and Janeway felt every agonizing second as if it were an eternity.

"We must." The declaration was simple but firm, and all the captain needed to hold on to until she found her bearings.

She took a breath, finding it hard to fill her lungs. "How?"

Seven shook her head. "I don't know." She paused, tilting her head slightly, and the iciness thawed somewhat, as some of the Borg's own hurt shadowed her eyes. "I did not leave you, Kathryn."

Janeway swallowed convulsively. "It felt as if you did."

"That was not my intent." Seven lowered her chin, her face darkening as she crossed her arms over her chest. "I am extremely angry at you."

Janeway's mouth twitched, a muscle jumping in her jaw. "I got that."

" I am very angry with Starfleet. I am very angry with the Orion Syndicate."

"You have every right to be. I'm angry with them, too."

Seven inhaled slowly, almost as if the next words were too hard for her to say.

"I am the most angry at myself. It was my actions that precipitated this event. Had I not assisted in their colony's destruction at the hands of Section 31, we would not be targeted by the Orion Syndicate. Gretchen and Phoebe would not be in danger. I am entirely responsible for this situation."

Janeway blinked, staggered as she was forced to look at the situation from a completely different angle, one that had never crossed her mind. Did Seven's great anger stem not from the captain's professional responsibilities, over which they had clashed before, but from some deeper sense of guilt? Janeway knew well how guilt could make one irrational, how it could make even the most caring person lash out, when all they really wanted was to punish themselves. It could also make it so difficult to face those one loved. Was that the real reason Seven had been avoiding her, had not wanted to look in her face? The realization eased a little of the captain's hurt and pain, allowing her to take a figurative step back and become a little more objective.

"This isn't your fault," she said carefully. "I'm the one who arrested Cheb Packer in the first place. He wanted his revenge on me. He initiated this whole thing."

"Because I am Borg. Because this is who I must be."

Janeway ached at the pain in Seven's voice. "Because you have knowledge, just as I and countless others have knowledge, but we can't turn our back on that knowledge just because a small few will try to exploit it." She bowed her head, feeling the weight of the universe on her shoulders, feeling as if there were no options left to make this right.  "I'll give the order to turn the ship around. If we take a few shortcuts in the preparation, we should be back in the Federation by the end of the week."

There was a silence, and Janeway looked up to see an amazing mixture of deep shame and profound gratification abruptly appear on the Borg's narrow features.

"No." Seven stepped closer, closing the distance between them in a rush to wrap her arms around the captain. "No," she repeated softly into the auburn hair as she held the captain tightly. "You are who you must be, Kathryn. I momentarily forgot that. I will not do so again. It was unfair of me to demand this of you."

Janeway exhaled explosively, the tears she had held at bay for so long spilling over as she hugged Seven back fiercely. The captain part of her had never seemed more far away. "I missed you so much. Please, don't ever leave me again."

"I did not leave you," Seven insisted, tightening her embrace. "And I will not. I love you, Kathryn. Even when I am angry with everything, that does not change."

Janeway was about to respond when her communicator issued a sudden chirp.

"Bridge to Captain Janeway."

Sniffing hard, Janeway pulled away from the embrace, touching her comm badge. "Janeway here." She had barely enough control left so that her voice didn't shake.

"Priority message from Starfleet via the ConFed Array."

Janeway and Seven's eyes met. The captain could read the terror in Seven's gaze. "On my way," she said dully. "Channel it to my ready room."

"Understood," Kelly replied, her tone subdued.

Hurrying to the nearest turbolift, the captain gave the order for it to take them directly to her ready room. Janeway steeled herself as she took a seat at her desk, turning the padd to face her. Standing behind her, Seven made a small sound, one that perhaps the Borg didn't even realize she had made as she put her hand on the captain's shoulder, clearly needing the physical connection.

Fingers trembling, Janeway clumsily activated the work station, bringing up the message waiting for her. The blue screen with the Federation logo appeared before another tap cleared the screen and revealed the stern features of Admiral Nechayev.

"Admiral." Janeway's voice didn't shake. She wondered if it sounded as dead to every one else as it did to her.

"Captain Janeway." The steel blue eyes flicked to encompass the Borg. "Lt. Hansen."

Janeway caught her breath. "What's the word, Admiral?"

The angled planes of Slavic features grew deeper and the captain thought dully that the pain in her chest was probably going to kill her right then. Then, absurdly, she realized the admiral was smiling. It was such a rare and uncommon occurrence that she actually needed a minute to recognize it.

"Your mother and sister are fine. We dealt with the final remaining members of the Orion Syndicate this afternoon and shut down their last safe house."

Janeway winced as Seven's hand tightened on her shoulder painfully, the young woman uttering another sound, almost as raw and anguished as the first.

"Thank you, Admiral," the captain managed. "My family ... may I see them?"

"They're currently in debriefings with Starfleet personnel," the admiral explained. "I didn't want to delay this news, knowing how difficult it has been for you both." She paused, glancing away as if someone else was speaking with her, then looked back at the viewscreen. "They'll be cleared to transmit a personal message tomorrow, since it is already quite late here. As you can imagine, they're both somewhat exhausted."

Janeway's chin went up. "With all due respect, Admiral, I want to see them."

Nechayev's eyebrow flickered. "Do you think I'm dissembling regarding this matter?" Her tone held a touch of astonishment.

Janeway forced back her initial, somewhat inappropriate comment. "I want to see them," she repeated softly, with firm insistence. If not for herself, she knew that the young woman behind her needed it desperately. "Please, Admiral."

Nechayev stared at her, then her face cleared, as if suddenly understanding. "Of course, Captain. I can channel the signal from the monitors in the debriefing room."

She touched some controls, and the image flickered to reveal a cozy room filled with comfortable couches, a table and chairs, and a large replicator. Debriefing for civilians was somewhat gentler than that provided for Starfleet officers, and infinitely more comfortable than what was provided for those deemed potential criminals and/or enemies of the Federation.

Janeway felt the tightness in her chest loosen, felt the sense of relief so strong that she almost fainted. As it were, her head swam and she needed a few seconds to recover. When she opened her eyes, she could see her family more clearly. Phoebe was seated at the table, a mug of something hot in front of her that looked like coffee. She was speaking intently to a dark-skinned woman that Janeway recognized belatedly as Tuvok's oldest daughter. She spared a brief second to wonder what Asil was doing there, when she saw Tuvok himself. Her ex-security chief was speaking to two other Starfleet officers, their insignia indicating they were high up in Starfleet Command.

The captain's eyes focused on her mother. Gretchen was seated on a couch next to her husband. Michael wasn't saying anything to anyone. He just had his arms wrapped around the older woman, an expression on his face so intent and stark that Janeway caught her breath. If she held any lingering doubt of the man's commitment and love for her mother, it vanished without a trace. He looked as if he had been reprieved from certain death, as if it had been he who had been kidnapped and recently freed, rather than his wife.

Gretchen, on the other hand, simply looked content. She was tucked up into his arms, much as Seven sometimes enfolded Janeway, her eyes closed, her head resting on his broad chest, looking as if she wanted to remain where she was forever, safe and protected in the embrace of the person she loved more than life itself.

The screen flickered again to show the admiral. Janeway inhaled, trying to fill lungs that still seemed uncooperative. "Thank you," she said simply.

Nechayev's lips parted as if she were about to say something, but then she paused, and carefully inclined her head in acknowledgment. "We'll arrange a transmission tomorrow and you can speak with them directly." She dipped her head. "Carry on, Captain."

Janeway felt a flurry of movement beside her as she reached out to terminate the connection. Blinking, she realized it was her partner leaving the ready room so quickly that the door was hissing shut behind her before the captain could even lift her eyes from the screen. Startled, Janeway moved after her, faltering as she stepped onto the bridge, aware of every eye on her, the expressions of her bridge crew holding a mix of expectation, dread and dismay. Janeway could not spare them any comfort.

She was too busy grappling with the fact that Seven was gone. Again.

Seven of Nine lifted her head as she heard the clunk and a hiss of a door behind her. She did not have to look back to know the door disappeared immediately, the holodeck resuming its re-creation of beach and ocean, and the two brilliant moons shining down on her, granting a silvery illumination to everything it touched. Her arms were wrapped around her knees drawn up to her chest as she gazed out over the shimmering water. Behind her, she sensed a familiar presence. Even without it, she knew that only one person would have overridden the privacy seal on the door.

"Do you recognize this place, Kathryn?"

There was a pause, a silence from the person behind her, and Seven wondered if she had guessed wrong about the identity of who it was. Perhaps it was one of her friends. Both B'Elanna and Lenara had the engineering and scientific capability to override a security seal, if not necessarily the authority. Seven closed her eyes. There was a time when she wouldn't have questioned her senses. Now, she was certain of nothing.

"I do," offered the husky voice finally. "It's the Captain's Cove. The island on that planet in the Delta Quadrant where we made up after our very first fight."

Seven inhaled, noting that the salt freshness of the night air was not quite what it had been on that evening so long ago. There was the faintest trace of artificiality about it. She wondered if it mattered so much.

"It is also the setting where you told me you intended to stop loving me because I adversely affected your command."

Another silence, empty and bleak. "Do you want me to go?"

"No." Seven felt moisture slide down her cheeks.

"When you left the ready room, I asked the computer where you went."

"And you came to find me."

"I'll always try to find you. I'll never stop trying to find you until you tell me that you don't want or need to be found." Seven heard Janeway swallow, her enhanced hearing easily able to detect the sound. "Is that what you're telling me now?"

"No."

Seven looked over her shoulder. She had never seen her partner appear more small, or more vulnerable. She shifted over on the boulder, making room for her. After a moment, the captain joined her, leaning against the rock, arms across her chest as if she were hugging herself. Face turned toward the restless sea, eyes fixed on the stars shining in the sky over the horizon, Janeway's shoulders were hunched, as if she were expecting a blow. Seven suddenly realized how much it had cost her spouse to have followed her to the holodeck, to have gone to Lenara's quarters in the first place, how much it had stripped away pride and self assurance to chase after the Borg so openly.

It was Seven's turn to reach out, to recognize that the next compromise must be hers. Moving carefully, she stretched out her hand and put it on the nearest arm, the bones feeling very fragile beneath her fingers. Gently, she urged the captain closer, until she was able to gather her up with Borg-enhanced strength and pull her up onto the rock, onto her lap, surrounding her with an embrace that Janeway did not resist.

"I love you, Kathryn," she whispered. "I love you so much."

Janeway kept her head bowed into the Borg's chest. "Is it enough?" Her voice was ragged, on the edge of tears. "Is it enough for you?"

"Yes," Seven told her firmly. "Always." She paused, closing her eyes as she rested her chin on the auburn hair, inhaling the familiar fragrance of her beloved partner. "I know what I demanded of you, Kathryn. I know what you were prepared to do for me. I am so very, very sorry."

Janeway didn't respond other than to relax marginally, revealing how tightly she had been wound. Seven was reminded of a time in a prison planet, where the captain had been similarly vulnerable and exposed, shaken to the very core of herself. She felt the same fierce sense of protectiveness and love, painfully aware that this time it was not a group of aliens that had so shattered Janeway's stability, but her trusted partner.

"Kathryn," she murmured, pulling her closer. "Please forgive me."

Janeway made a small sound of protest. "There's nothing to forgive."

"There is." Seven felt the catch in her throat, the lump that made it difficult to speak, yet she forced past it. "I once thought I knew you better than I knew myself. I believed that I accepted all that you were and understood it. I have failed miserably."

"No, darling. Don't do this..."

"I am ashamed. You understand and accept me completely."

Janeway slipped her arms around the Borg's waist, hugging her tightly. "You're asking too much of yourself, darling. If it seems that I accept and understand you so well, it's no less than what you've taught me by your own ability to support me all these years. You've accepted so much that comes with being in love with a starship captain. Maybe there are a few things that should never be accepted. Maybe you're supposed to fight against them. Maybe we both are. Maybe that's part of the learning process."

Seven felt Janeway's face nestle into the hollow of her shoulder, seeking her comfort and strength even as she offered her own.

"I love you, Seven of Nine, Annika Hansen, my wife and partner and lover for all time. I love you with all my heart. Don't ever doubt that."

"I do not, Kathryn." Seven wished she had more words, and the knowledge of how to use them to make this all right. All she could do was hold onto her beloved spouse as if she would never let her go. "I love you. With all that I am, I love you. I will never love another like this. Please, believe me."

There was no holding back the tears now, for either of them. "I do, my darling."

They wept, both from the relief of finding each other, and knowing their loved ones were safe, and from the harsh acknowledgment of how much they could hurt each other. When they were finished, when the tears and shaking had stopped, they remained together, clinging to each other as if the placid sea would rear up and wash them away for their audacity at risking their relationship. Seven could feel Kathryn's heartbeat throbbing steadily in her chest, echoing her own, and she didn't want to move. She wanted to stay here with the sound of the wind and the waves in her ears, with Janeway's breath soft against her throat.

"Why did you pick this place?" Janeway whispered after a long time.

Seven thought about it. In truth, she didn't know why, of all the holoprograms, she had selected this one, or even why she had gone to the holodeck in the first place. "I ... this is where it all began," she said finally. "Where we learned that no matter how bad it was, we could still find a way to love each other. I believe I needed that reminder."

"We both did, my darling."

Janeway lifted her face, and Seven didn't hesitate, covering the captain's mouth with her own, tasting the tears and sorrow, along with the sweetness and yearning of unrestrained love. She kissed her again, trying to pour all her emotion into this connection of lips, wanting nothing more than to remain like this forever. Finally, they parted, looking into each other's eyes, still reddened and shiny from feelings scraped raw. Janeway drew her hand along Seven's face, cupping her cheek in the warm palm.

"Will you come home with me?"

Seven kissed her carefully. "Yes, Kathryn."

Carefully, they untangled, and Janeway took a moment to wipe her eyes and face with a handkerchief taken from some hidden pocket of her uniform tunic. Seven wondered if she had acquired the habit of carrying them only in the past few days, where the tears would have been very close to the surface, threatening to break through the command mask at any moment. She felt the hurt again, knowing what she had cost her normally strong and courageous spouse, what she had done to undermine a command that relied as much on perception by others as it did on Janeway's considerable leadership abilities.

As they walked through the corridors toward the turbolift, Janeway kept her arm about Seven's waist, and the Borg did not remove her own from the captain's shoulders. Those they met made a point of not noticing the physical connection, though Seven believed she saw a look of embarrassed concern in some of those faces, a sense of relief to see their captain and her wife together again. Perhaps that was even why Janeway did it, though Seven did not think her spouse could be so calculating at the moment. She was still too vulnerable. Seven leaned over, kissing the captain's head as they stood in the turbolift that carried them to deck three, and Janeway leaned into her, still needing her strength. The Borg could feel the sudden exhaustion radiating from her spouse, and it shamed her once again.

Commander Kelly was standing in the corridor of deck three, talking quietly to the assistant Security chief, M'Reek, who was standing close to her with what appeared to be intimate intent. Startled, he straightened to attention and both officers fell silent as they saw the couple. Janeway affected not to notice them as they passed. Fortunately, it seemed that Kiara did not take offense at it. Instead, her eyes were solemn as she watched them walk by, and M'Reek dipped his head respectfully as he caught Seven's eye.

Inside their quarters, Janeway drew away from Seven's embrace and moved over to the windows that looked out to the stars, distorted by the ship's warp bubble so that it seemed as if they were shooting past. The Borg stood quietly, waiting.

"I'm not sure what to say now," Janeway said finally, eyes distant as she stared into the dark reaches of the space that lay before her ship. "Maybe I shouldn't say anything."

Seven nodded. "This affected your command. That was not my intention."

"Mine either, but it happened." Janeway sighed and looked at her spouse. "No, it's not the time to talk about that. It's too soon."

Seven stretched out her hand. "Perhaps we should not talk at all."

Janeway regarded her for a moment, a wealth of emotion revealed in her face that held no hint of the command persona now, then slowly moved over to her to be enfolded into the Borg's embrace. Seven closed her eyes, tucking her spouse up under her chin as she rested it on the captain's head, needing Janeway's presence in a way that she had not felt in a long time.

This was necessary, she thought. A painful reminder that as comfortable as they had become with each other, as much as they thought they knew each other, they remained individuals, with individual motivations and individual priorities. They would never be one, as much as Seven wanted, never share that unification of one mind that she had known in the Collective. It would never be that easy. It would always take care and consideration and respect to maintain their relationship.

Fortunately, the woman in her arms was worth it, a thousand, no, a million times over. All her quirks and habits and spirit and temper combined to make this fascinating, incorrigible, absolutely irresistible whole that Seven could no more deny than she could her innate nature. No other could replace her, and no other could ever give Seven this sense of wholeness that she needed.

Janeway made a small sound, and the Borg pulled her tighter to her body, wanting to absorb her. "Kathryn?"

"I was just thinking, as bad as it gets, I couldn't bear the alternative." She snuggled closer and kissed Seven's neck, her lips gentle on the Borg's skin. "You're my heart, darling."

The Borg swallowed back the lump in her throat. Perhaps they thought as one after all. They merely expressed it in different terms. Yet for all that, she knew this was not resolved, and would not be resolved quickly. This was something they would have to live with for some time as they adapted and adjusted and created a new set of compromises that would enable them to accept this knowledge about themselves and each other.

Seven exhaled, her tears close to spilling over yet again.

"You have mine, Kathryn," she said softly. "In the future, I promise, I shall take better care of yours."

Epilogue

Tuvok regarded his daughter with satisfaction. She read it in his eyes and dipped her head in acknowledgment, but she was not satisfied. She had been unable to determine who was behind the aborted attempt to restore the Orion Syndicate and with the demise of the remaining members, there would be no information gathered through interrogation.

A tiny thought that perhaps it had been arranged that way filtered through her mind, but she did not utter it. It was pure speculation, based on instinct rather than logic, and she was not about to offer it up without any evidence. Still, it did not go away and she filed it in the back of her mind as something to be pursued later.

"There are those who believe this to be the end of it," her father said.

"Yes." She knew she did not display anything on her face, but his eyebrow rose nonetheless.

"You disagree?"

She wondered if he did, as well, and knew she would never know unless he told her. She linked her fingers together on her lap and met his gaze.

"There was something said by one of the syndicate members. He was Vicarny's equipment specialist. He never talked to the rest of us, and did his work separately, but he recognized my communicator as Starfleet issue."

Tuvok lifted his head, a spark of what might have been alarm in his dark eyes. "It was disguised as a common black market transmission device. No one should have recognized it as anything else."

"Yet, he identified it from 'specs' he had seen, sent to him by their unknown backers." She saw that he realized what that meant as quickly as she had.

"Someone has gained access to data they should not have." His voice was no longer so even.

She lifted a brow. "Or should have access to it and is passing it on to someone else who should not."

His face was set in stone. "This is not over."

She doubted he knew what they were going to do about it.

The End

1

•  This is the 16th installment in the Millennium series.

•  Dedicated to the readers who have stuck around this long.

•  It was posted to the net on January 1st, 2007.

•  This was an especially tough story to write because of a very strong writer's block. Because of that, I had to haul out the hoariest old Trek trick of them all...time travel. (highlight only if you want to know what the trick is before reading the story.)

Lingering Lamentations
G. L. Dartt

The hum of the warp engines ran along the edge of her consciousness like the familiar ticking of a clock.  Any deviation, no matter how slight, would intrude with as much force as a red alert klaxon, allowing her to react instantly to the aberration.  She supposed her chief engineer shared that sense with her, and may even have been better at it.

Sighing softly, Captain Kathryn Janeway looked away from the viewport, turning her back on the stars outside, and wearily contemplated her ready room.  A half empty coffee mug sat on the low table in front of her and it took a moment before she finally decided it was too cool to bother with.  Taking it over to the replicator, she placed the cup there to be recycled, watching as it dissolved into nothingness without really seeing it.  When the mug rematerialized, now clean and empty, she picked it up absently.

From the corner of her eye, her gaze lit on the silver thermos that contained her daily ration of the dark brew. It was more than just a thermos.  It was a small token of love given to her to start each and every day.  For a week, there had been no special blend of coffee and certainly, no token of caring.  There hadn’t been anything.

<>            The captain took a seat on the sofa, leaning back against the cushions as she closed her eyes, the hurt still lingering.  She and Seven of Nine had resolved their conflict, at least on the surface, but inside she was still wary, unable to trust where once she had complete faith.  This morning had been a perfect example.  Seven had reached for her, as she had so many times before this all happened, but Janeway pulled away, offering a false smile of reassurance as she insisted that she had to start her duty shift, though she didn’t think she was fooling Seven for a minute. She had to get over it.  Despite Seven’s recent actions, she was the most straightforward and brutally honest person the captain had ever met.  She insisted that she had never left Janeway; only that she had needed space and taken some time on her own.  Janeway had no reason not to accept that at face value.

Except every time she thought about it, it made her feel ill, and brought the taste of bile to the back of her throat.  If only Seven hadn’t fled to a friend, to the beautiful, brilliant Lenara Kahn.  If only she hadn’t been exposed to the example of someone who could always be there for her, as opposed to someone who often had to choose duty and career over the wants and needs of her beloved Borg.

Shaking her head fretfully at her wayward thoughts, Janeway took a seat and refilled her cup from the thermos. On the table beside it, a padd containing ship specs awaited her attention.  This was Janeway’s second year of commanding Starfleet’s transition vessel, and she had yet to learn everything about her ship’s capabilities. But as she reached for it, she heard the sudden sound of the chime at her door and forestalled her motion. She took an extra second to make sure her command mask was firmly in place before answering the request for admittance.

“Come in.”

The ship’s chief of security, Ro Laren, entered the captain’s ready room.  Glancing about the room, she spotted Janeway on the upper level and immediately ascended the short flight of stairs, her lean form moving with a palpable sense of deadly grace.  At the captain’s incline of her head, she took a seat in the armchair set at right angles to her.

“My daily security report,” she explained as she handed over a padd.

A strand of dark hair fell over her forehead, and with a gesture of impatience, she tucked it behind her ear.  Janeway wondered at what was a rather uncharacteristic display of nerves for Ro.  Uncertainly, the captain skimmed the padd’s contents, searching for anything out of the ordinary, but nothing stood out.  Placing it on the coffee table, she took a sip from her mug, peering intently over the brim at her officer. Tiny Bajoran ridges on the bridge of Ro’s nose made her look serious, even when she smiled, which wasn’t often.  She wasn’t smiling now.

“Anything I’m not seeing here?”

“Such as?” Ro lifted a brow, as if surprised by the question.

“I don’t know.  Your expression is a trifle...uneasy.”

“It’s not anything to do with the ship.”

Janeway felt her mouth tighten.  “Then perhaps it doesn’t belong here.”

“I don’t want to overstep my bounds, Captain ...Kathryn.”  Ro dipped her head slightly.  “But I consider you and Seven to be good friends, and it’s not as if I have the opportunity to speak with you alone very often where it doesn’t have to be related to ship's business.  Despite our improved circumstances, our current situation is still a lot like it was on Voyager’s. We’re never entirely off duty here as we would be if we were on leave in the Alpha Quadrant.  I need to take my opportunities when they arise.”

“Is that why you dropped by with the report?”  Janeway felt a surge of resentment. “Creating an opportunity?”

“Just following your lead, Captain.”

Janeway regarded her narrowly, unable to deny she had a habit of cornering people and digging into their personal lives whenever she had an urge to meddle.  She wondered if her ‘victims’ disliked it as much as she did.

Ro seemed to get a sense of that discomfort and she sighed softly.  “Kathryn, it’s obvious that things aren’t back to normal between you and Seven.”

“Is it affecting the ship?”

“Not any longer, not since you two have apparently reconciled, but then, most of the crew is more than happy to take things at face value.  I’m not, and never have been. That’s why I’m your security chief.”

“Tuvok never presumed like this.”  Janeway’s tone was sharper than she intended and she made an effort to swallow back her temper.

“On the contrary, Captain, I suspect he did, only with a great deal more subtlety than I’m capable of.”  Ro raked her fingers through her hair, the frustration evident.  “I’m not just here as your friend, Kathryn, I’m doing my best to act as your unofficial first officer as well, in so far as being someone you can confide in.  It’s impossible for Kelly to provide that comfort level for you. But I guess I’m not doing any better.”

Janeway softened at the dismay in Ro’s voice.  She supposed she shouldn’t be so opposed to the idea.  It was just so difficult to be that open with those under her command, no matter how close she was to them personally.  After all, wasn’t that one of her biggest problems with Seven?

“I’m not the easiest captain when it comes to granting that kind of access to my personal life, Laren,” she admitted reluctantly, after a long moment had passed.  “ I’m old school. A captain is supposed to be above all that.”

“I know, and again, if we were on an ordinary ship, doing ordinary Starfleet missions in the Alpha Quadrant, then I wouldn’t be here.  You’d have access to other captains, even civilians on the outside whom you could contact over the comm, but that’s impossible on Millennium.”  Ro clasped her hands tightly on her lap.  “Kathryn, I just feel like you could use a shoulder right now and if it can’t be me, that’s fine, but don’t let it be because you don’t think you can.  We’re all here for you if you need us…me, B’Elanna, Kes, Dr. Pulaski.  You don’t ever have to feel as alone here as you did on Voyager.”

“God, you people didn’t get together on this, did you?” Ro’s face altered despite her best effort to remain impassive and Janeway groaned. “And you were the one they chose as their best representative in this?”

Ro looked away, unable to meet her eyes.  “Rank has its privileges, I guess.”

“If that’s the case, why isn’t Pulaski here?”

“That’s the rank thing, Captain.  She made me do it.”  Ro’s expression was a mix of resentment and embarrassment.

Despite herself, Janeway was startled into a rather inelegant snort of laughter.  The thought that her crewmembers…though admittedly, those to whom she was closest personally outside of Seven . . . had felt compelled to do this amused her.  And unexpectedly touched her.

“Very well, consider your task fulfilled, Laren, and taken under advisement.”  Janeway hesitated briefly, and then nodded.  “I do appreciate what you’re offering me.  I may take you up on it some time.”

“You only have to ask, Kathryn.”  Ro leaned forward earnestly.  “Any time.”

“Thank you.”

Ro rose to her feet with a bit of relief in her face obviously uncomfortable with the situation and taking that as a dismissal. As Janeway watched her glide down the ramp and out the door, there was a brief second when she almost called her back, but in the end, she let her go.

Taking a second to straighten her shoulders beneath her tunic, she strode out of the ready room onto the bridge.  The soft sounds of the air ventilation system and the quiet murmurs of the alpha shift at their posts interacting with each other offered a human counterpoint to the constant thrum of the warp engines.  She saw that Ro had returned to tactical and was now immersed in something.  She did not look up as the captain entered, and Janeway glanced away as she headed for the captain’s chair. It was located on the raised part of the bridge, overlooking the rest of her staff and oriented directly toward the large viewscreen that dominated the front bulkhead.  At the moment, it was displaying the distorted image of shooting stars, the typical image offered when a ship was traveling at warp.  There wasn’t even a nebula or anomaly to break up the monotony of deep space.

Glancing at the chronometer, she realized she had another thirty minutes before the shift changeover to beta. She could log off early, she thought, though the notion of going home didn’t really appeal to her…an uncomfortable thing to acknowledge.  Her quarters used to be a safe haven, a place where she could close the door and forget about being captain for a little while.  Now they seemed bleak and empty, even when Seven was there.

Feeling her throat tighten, she rose to her feet.  “Commander, you have the bridge.”

She didn’t look to see if her first officer, Keira Kelly would take the conn or not, nor did she notice the sharp look directed her way by Ro.  She just needed to get off the bridge, needed to be on the move, feeling restless and unable to settle herself. On the turbolift, she bent her head and closed her eyes, feeling as if the weight of the universe were on her shoulders.  It should be getting better, she thought with despair.  There was no way she could continue to function like this.
The lift doors hissed open and she lifted her head, the command mask firmly in place. A few passing crewmembers noticed her and nodded respectfully, straightening to attention under her scrutiny. She didn’t demand military discipline, but she was a stickler for details, a by-the-book commander, and her crew knew it, reacting accordingly. She passed them, feeling unusually exposed and vulnerable as she moved briskly down the corridor.  She wasn’t even sure where she was headed until she was in front of the large doors of the civilian lounge.  This was a quiet area of the ship, unlike the crew lounge a few decks up that most of the crew, both Starfleet and civilian, frequented and usually boasted loud music with a raucous atmosphere.  In this lounge, there were few people scattered about the tables and the only sound was the slow tinkle of piano keys from a scientist manning the instrument on a raised dais.

She moved unobtrusively to the replicator and programmed in a whiskey and soda, briefly hesitating before she overrode the normal synthale parameters and made it the real thing.  Sitting in the corner at a quiet table, she sipped her drink. The warmth spread through her and loosened the sharp edge of ice that seemed to have taken up permanent residence in her chest.  She took another, larger swallow and closed her eyes.

Striding purposefully down the corridor, Seven of Nine felt a little apprehensive as she saw B’Elanna leaving the lab. She had no idea what Millennium's chief engineer would be doing in the science section of the ship, particularly since duty usually kept her too busy to visit on a whim.
“B’Elanna Torres.”
B'Elanna hesitated, and then turned to face the approaching Seven, offering a smile that didn’t quite convey a happiness to see her friend.  Seven stopped and assessed her dispassionately, keying on the facial expressions that she knew from experience indicated some form of deception from her friend. B’Elanna contrived to look innocent, faltered, and finally let out her breath in a rush.
“Damn it, you weren’t supposed to catch me.”
“What is your purpose for being here, B’Elanna?”

“I suppose you’ll find out anyway.”  B’Elanna crossed her arms over her chest.  “It’s ... well, it’s your birthday in a couple of days.  We’re ... we’re, ah, planning a surprise party.”  She frowned.  “Or, it was supposed to be a surprise.”

Seven was charmed, all suspicion swept aside.  “A birthday party?  For me?”

“Not that you deserve it after the past few weeks,” B’Elanna said sternly and Seven dipped her head as she was reminded painfully of recent events.

“No, I do not deserve it,” she agreed humbly.

Looking somewhat embarrassed that she had brought it up, B’Elanna reached over to clumsily pat Seven on the arm.  “Well, water under the bridge, ‘Nik. Time to move on, and hopefully a party will help accomplish that.  For all of us.”

"Yes, it will.”

Seven tried very hard to sound like she agreed with that assessment, wishing that indeed, a party would be all that was required to heal the rift existing between her and Kathryn.  While the rest of the ship might believe that everything was back to normal with the couple, the reality was actually quite different. She would have attempted a smile, but knew it would be such a poor parody of one, it would raise more questions than ease any lingering doubts her friend might possess.  Right now, she didn’t have the energy to discuss it with B’Elanna, fearing it might make things worse rather than help.  Her recent actions had served to subtly undermine Janeway’s command, affecting the ship, and she had no wish to wander down that path any further.

“‘Nik?  You okay?”

Seven blinked and focused on her friend.  “Of course,” she said with all the firmness she was capable of infusing into her tone.  Hopefully, it would be enough for B’Elanna to accept as the end of the conversation.  “I must attend to my duties.”

B’Elanna looked slightly doubtful, but she nodded.  “Yeah, I have to get back to engineering.  I still have a little time before I log off. Carry on, Lieutenant.”

The last was for the benefit of a few junior crewmembers that were passing by.  Seven watched B’Elanna walk away before she turned and went through the doors to her lab.  Inside, her civilian liaison, Lenara Kahn, was already at the workstation they both favored when performing shared research projects.

Studying her as she moved across the lab, Seven was struck by the notion that Kahn seemed somewhat disturbed.  She wasn’t sure why she felt that way, only that there was a certain agitation in her friend’s body language stemming from some unknown source.  But when Lenara became aware of her presence, she lifted her head and smiled warmly.  Seven decided that she was imagining things, undoubtedly because of her own sense of internal turmoil.

“Biometrics has sent up the last of their reports.”

Seven nodded approvingly.  The last planet the ship visited displayed some unusual anomalies in the atmosphere, resulting in unique and varied lower lifeforms.  She looked forward to going over the conclusions put forth by the department headed up by Samantha Wildman.

“I expect to find some interesting theories offered by the away team.”

“Particularly from Dr. Anderson.” Lenara lifted a sardonic brow.

Seven smiled faintly.  The man in question never went for the simplest, most logical assessment when a convoluted and extravagant one would do.  Sometimes Seven wondered how such an individual had ever made it through Starfleet’s rigorous requirements for civilians serving on a starship, but then, she had dealt with equally brilliant and unconventional minds during her time with the Theoretical Propulsion Group.  She should be used to it by now.  In any event, he was primarily Samantha’s problem and not hers.

“I shall leave it in your capable hands,” Seven said, inclining her head slightly.  “I will be in my office for the rest of the afternoon.”

But when she went into her office and took a seat behind the austere desk, she discovered that Lenara had followed her in.  Gracefully, without being invited, the willowy woman sank into the seat across the desk, folding her hands neatly on her lap and regarding Seven with grave scrutiny.  Intrigued, Seven lifted an eyebrow and waited for the Trill to say something.  As she did, she evaluated the woman, appreciating the high cheekbones, the classic features, the dark, deep-set eyes and spattering of elegant spots that ran over her temples and down her neck to disappear beneath the high collar of her white, lab coat. When she realized what she was doing, she felt a decided stab of what might have been guilt and shame pierce her chest.  She understood that it was perfectly natural to appreciate another’s beauty purely on an aesthetic level, but there was a fine line, and with the recent events, she did not dare such idle distraction.

“How are you and the captain?”

Seven flinched slightly, ashamed of displaying that much emotion.  She was usually under better control than that, particularly outside her quarters.  “We are fine.” The words came out harsher than she had intended, defeating the attempt at prevarication.

Lenara regarded her with evident skepticism. “Why are you lying, Seven?  It doesn’t become you. Though I do respect that you don’t want to talk about this.”

“Thank you.”

“But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t talk about it.”

Seven frowned, feeling her temples begin to ache with a slow, measured throb.  “I fail to see what purpose it would accomplish.”

Lenara eyed Seven over the tips of steepled fingers. “Seven, just sharing with a friend can allow for healing.”

<>“’Just sharing with a friend’ is the crux of the problem.”  Seven spoke before thinking.  She had no idea where she had picked up such an unfortunate habit and made a note to curb it as soon as possible. Lenara looked vaguely surprised at the comment, but Seven suspected it was more from Seven actually saying it rather than the content.
“I’m sorry that my offering comfort and support to you as a friend was misconstrued by the captain.”

“It was not only the captain that incorrectly evaluated the situation.  Some others in the ship did as well, which is contributing to the difficulty.”  Seven felt a sharp pain in the vicinity of her chest.  “My actions have interfered with her command.  That is unacceptable.”

“Perhaps, but affecting your partner's attitude on the job is usually a component of being involved with someone you work with.”  Lenara shook her head. “Life is complicated, Annika.  Of course we like clearly defined boundaries in everything, but frequently they're trod upon, particularly in personal relationships.  That doesn’t mean it’s necessarily bad, just part of living.”

“Nonetheless, it was unacceptable,” Seven repeated stubbornly.

“Well, I’m not going to argue about it since you’ve clearly decided it has, but Annika, regardless of what the rest of the ship may or may not think…and believe me, I suspect they think and are affected by it far less than you imagine…you have to do what’s right for you and the captain.”

Seven dropped her head.  “What if I do not know what is right for us?”  She found it difficult to breathe, a lump rising in her throat.  “I want us to return to what we were.”

“Impossible.”

Startled, Seven lifted her head at the flatly intoned words and Lenara returned her gaze sternly, before she appeared to soften slightly, sighing quietly.

“You can’t go back to what you were, Seven.  The events of the past few weeks have changed the both of you in ways that can’t be undone. You can only move forward to the couple you will be.  Life is a matter of constant growth and change.  Only a fool resists or denies it.  Because of what’s happened, you and the captain are now different people, and you both have to figure out how the two new people you are will be together.”

That was profoundly disturbing to Seven, even as she found it difficult to deny the assessment.  “Who are we now?” she asked plaintively.

Lenara patted her arm with apparent fondness.  “That’s part of the discovery process, I’m afraid.  I can’t tell you. You need to talk this over with the captain.”

“But lately it is clear that she does not want to talk to me.”

Lenara nodded as if she knew exactly what Seven was talking about.  Odd, since Seven felt adrift in a sea of confusion.  “She’s afraid, Seven.”

“Afraid?  Of me?”

“Of this newness between you, and of what might happen next.  She probably doesn’t know what to say and is afraid to say the wrong thing…the thing that will drive you away.”

Seven felt a sudden, irrational anger at the other woman.  “She could never say anything that would drive me away.”  The words were bitten off with ferocity.

Lenara blinked, but her tone was mild.  “I know that, but right now, she doesn’t.  Not deep down.  Not where it counts.  It’s up to you to make sure she does.”

“How?”

“Sorry, Seven, I can only come up with the theory.  I’m not so good at practical application.”  Her smile was bittersweet.

Seven’s disappointment was acid in her throat, though she didn’t know why she had expected answers from someone else. “I fear that is not my greatest strength, either.”

“Don’t underestimate yourself, Seven.  You’re a great deal stronger than most people know.”

Seven thought that was self-evident and not precisely helpful.  Lenara seemed to read her thoughts in her expression and smiled wryly.  “I meant emotionally, Seven, not because you’re Borg and physically superior. You have a big heart. You just have to listen to it and let it guide you.”

Seven considered it.  “I have been trying,” she confessed, “but I do not appear to be making any discernable progress.”

“Progress isn’t always immediate or visible.  You, as a scientist, should know that.”

“This is not a particularly scientific endeavor.”  Her tone was more disgruntled than she meant it to be. Lenara laughed.

“No, I don’t suspect it is.  It’s messy and complicated.  That’s why I prefer the lab.  Things are nice and clear and well defined here.”

Seven could not disagree, but she knew that for the moment, she could not grant it any more attention than she already had.  Others were already glancing curiously through the transparency that separated the office from the lab, curious about their superiors so deep in discussion and their duties that had been left unattended for an unacceptable period of time.

Seven needed to get back to work.  At least there, she possessed some measure of control.

“We have to plan a surprise party for Seven.”

Ro Laren blinked as she came through the door, regarding her spouse of two years uncertainly.  “What?”

“Seven caught me, and now I have to plan a surprise party.”

B’Elanna looked more than a little disgusted with herself, but Ro focused on the crucial bit of information revealed in that sentence.  Crossing her arms over her chest, she stared at B’Elanna.  “Caught you doing what?”

B’Elanna threw out her hands as she paced about the couple’s quarters.  “That’s not important.  What’s important is that when I ran into her outside the lab, I had to come up with something and that’s all I could think of.”

Ro had not become chief of security for one of Starfleet’s elite vessels by being obtuse. “What were you doing in the lab?”

“Will you focus?” B’Elanna snapped with exasperation. “How the hell are we going to plan a surprise party in two days?”

“What do you mean ‘we’?”  Ro tilted her head.  “B’Elanna, what did you do?”

The Klingon, finally pinned down by her spouse’s uncompromising stare, exhaled audibly.  “I may have had a little chat with Lenara Kahn when I was passing by the lab.”

Now Ro was truly alarmed.  “What kind of ‘little chat’?  Not the kind that you had with Angela James on Voyager?!”

“No.”  B’Elanna hesitated.  “Not exactly.”  She pursed her lips.  “Maybe a little.”

“Oh, Prophets.”  Ro leaned feebly against the wall, staring at her partner in horror.  “Why would you do something like that?”

“I just wanted her to be clear on the fact that she has no chance with Seven and is never going to have a chance with Seven.”

Ro was nonplused.  “And how did she respond?”

“She didn’t seem too disturbed,” B’Elanna admitted, with some dissatisfaction.  “If anything, she seemed ... amused.”

“Count your lucky stars.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Ro let out her breath in a huff.  “Lanna, Kahn’s a civilian.  It’s bad enough when you have those little ‘chats’ with other officers, but when it comes to civilians on board ship, you need to be a lot more careful.”

The Klingon considered it, apparently not liking the assessment much but having to accept its validity.  “Fine, I won’t do it again.”

“You’ve said that before.”

“I mean it this time.”

The security chief continued to stare at her.  “On your honor?”

B’Elanna frowned mightily, but finally dipped her head grudgingly.  “Fine.  On my honor.   Happy?”

“Not at all,” Ro said honestly, “but I guess I’ll have to settle for it.  Damn it, B’Elanna—“

”On my honor, Laren!”  Ro hesitated and B’Elanna tilted her head slightly, regarding her with serious eyes. “You’re right.  I’m sorry.”

Ro rubbed the ridges on the bridge of her nose.  “Okay.  No harm done, I guess.  What the hell were you doing ‘passing by the lab’ anyway?  You don’t need to be anywhere near the science decks.”

B’Elanna managed to look bashful, a decidedly unnatural expression for her craggy, Klingon features. “I was by sickbay this morning.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing like that.”  B’Elanna held up her hands to calm her partner.  “It was just a checkup.  To see how things are going.”

Ro faltered, and suddenly felt weak, groping for a seat on the nearby sofa.  “Any news?” B’Elanna hesitated, but a small grin played about the corners of her mouth and Ro felt an extremely odd sensation in the pit of her stomach, half joy, half sheer terror.  “‘Lanna?”

“According to Pulaski, it took.  We’re three weeks along.”

Ro felt her cheeks ache and realized she must be smiling as broadly as her partner was.  It was an unfamiliar sensation but she didn’t want it to end. B’Elanna moved toward her, stopping in front of her, and Ro leaned forward, slipping her arms around her waist and pressing her cheek against the still flat stomach.  Closing her eyes, she imagined she could hear the extra heartbeat inside, even as she knew it was impossible to hear anything, or so soon, for that matter.  Above her, B’Elanna gently stroked her hair, fingers tangling lightly in the dark strands streaked with an occasional thread of silver.

“You’re happy?” Ro asked, a little anxiously.

“I’m ecstatic. This is what we were hoping for, what we planned for, Laren.”

“And this is just the beginning, my mate.”

B’Elanna’s laugh was full-bodied.  “Don’t think I don’t know that. A little girl with our stubbornness and determination all mixed together?  Kahless, we’ll be lucky if we survive it.”

Drawing back from B’Elanna’s abdomen, Ro looked up at her and tightened her arms about her waist.  “Are we thinking of names yet?”

“How about it gets bigger than a peanut before we start doing that.”

Ro studied her face, her smile fading.  “You worried, love?”

There was a brief hesitation, various emotions chasing each other across the olive features, too fast for Ro to decipher them all, before they settled into a rueful expression that mixed with slight apprehension.  “Not exactly.  It’s just…if something goes wrong…”

“You don’t want to be too attached,” Ro concluded.  “Naming her…”

“Laren, she’ll be a hybrid, like me, and we both know that for every success in crossing species, there are three instances that have problems…”

Ro stood up and enfolded her into a strong embrace.  “Darling, nothing’s going to go wrong.  You’re in perfect health, Dr. Pulaski is the best doctor around, not to mention having an extremely over qualified EMH to back her up.  And as for being a hybrid, that’s only to our little girl’s benefit.  She will have the very best genes of Bajor, Klingon and Terran in her and that can only make her beautiful, capable and strong.   Honestly, love, she’ll be here before you know it.”
B’Elanna held onto her tightly.  “You’re right.  I know you’re right.  I’m just….”  Her voice was muffled from where she had it buried into Ro’s neck and managed a bit of a strained laugh.  “Maybe it’s hormones.”

“Maybe.”  Though she kept her tone mild because B’Elanna had only given voice to Ro’s own fears and secret doubts.  Still, one of them had to be the positive one in this situation, and while they would undoubtedly take turns in the upcoming months, right now, it was Ro’s turn. They held each other for a long moment before drawing back to exchange a long, slow kiss, one of hope, reassurance and commitment.  Afterward, B’Elanna nestled in her arms and Ro felt that the crisis was over…for the moment.

“What are we going to do about the captain and Seven?”

Ro resisted the urge to sigh.  “Are you sure we should do anything?”  She didn’t want to tell her about her unsuccessful conversation with the captain.  “They’re adults, after all, and perfectly capable of handling things themselves.”

“If that were the case, they’d already be back together.”  B’Elanna frowned, her brow furrowing.  “Ro, I’ve never seen them like this.  It’s like they don’t know how to even start to fix it.”

“Maybe all they need is time.”

“Maybe all they need is a little help.”

“Like what?”  Ro doubted she would like what she was about to hear.

“They need to get off by themselves for awhile.  Be alone with no distractions from the ship.”  Conviction gleamed brightly in B’Elanna’s dark eyes.

Ro offered a wry chuckle.  “Lots of luck there.  In case you hadn’t noticed, ‘Lanna, we’re out in the middle of the beta quadrant, with no back up in sight and a mission that’s going to last another few months at least.”

“Then we’re going to have to find a way to make it happen.”  B’Elanna slipped out of Ro’s embrace and began to pace the living the living area of their quarters.  Suspecting this would take a while, Ro exhaled softly and resumed her seat on the sofa, leaning back to watch her spouse pace.

“We need to get them into the holodeck…no, a shuttle, and arrange a little ‘malfunction’.”

Apparently, it wasn’t going to take long at all for B’Elanna to come up with a plan of attack…an outrageous one, at that.  Ro frowned, a sense of foreboding strong within her.  “Lanna, I don’t know about this…”

B’Elanna stopped and turned to face her, her jaw set in that way Ro knew so well.  “It’ll be a piece of cake, Laren.  If they’re trapped on a shuttle in vacuum, then they’ll have to talk to each other.”

“How are you going to get them onto a shuttle and out into space?” Ro asked reasonably.

B’Elanna offered her a meaningful look.  “That’ll be your job.  Some kind of emergency, maybe?”

Ro felt her mouth go dry.  “Trick the captain with an emergency mission just to get her alone with Seven?  Prophets, there goes any hope of my becoming a first officer in the near future.”  B’Elanna made a face and Ro firmed her mouth.  “You have to take into account all the consequences for this, Lanna, not just what might happen in the best case scenario where they end up back together and happy and don’t hold us accountable for acting in a completely unprofessional manner.”

“What if we bring Pulaski into this?  She might have a few ideas.”

“And if she takes the blame, there’s not much the captain can do to her because the doctor carries the rank of admiral?  Way to take responsibility, Lanna.”

A pained expression crossed B’Elanna’s olive features.  “You really don’t want to do this, do you?”

“It was hard enough to talk to the captain this afternoon.”  Ro raked her fingers through her hair, leaving it disarrayed, and added for the benefit of B’Elanna’s expectant expression, “It didn’t have much effect.”

“Oh.”  The engineer’s disappointment was palpable.

Ro rose from the sofa and went over to her, slipping her arms around her waist.  B’Elanna snuggled into her embrace, nuzzling her neck somewhat sheepishly.

“I’m sorry, baby.  I just want my friends to be happy.”

“I know.”  Ro rested her chin on the top of her head and stared at the far bulkhead.  “We just have to trust that they’ll find their way back on their own.”
B’Elanna was silent for a moment.  "Or help them find it."
Ro sighed.

Janeway stumbled a bit when she entered the turbolift and realized that she had drunk far more than she should.  Her equilibrium wasn’t all it should be and a part of her was dismayed at her apparent lack of control.  She was a starship captain, damn it, and she needed to be better than this.
With an effort, she straightened her shoulders and thrust back the dizziness that danced lightly around her vision. As the doors hissed open, she strode purposefully along the corridor leading to her quarters, knowing it was very late and she had undoubtedly missed dinner.  She hoped Seven wasn’t too annoyed, but on the other hand, perhaps that would lead to a fight, and it was possible a loud, knockdown, drag out fight was exactly what they needed. God knew nothing else was working.
But the quarters were quiet when she entered and she surveyed them with a frown.  There was a plate beneath a stasis field on the counter to her right and she eyed it a moment before moving over to deactivate the field.  It was corn and potato casserole, her favorite. Too bad she wasn’t the slightest bit hungry.  Picking it up, she carried it over to the replicator and disposed of it, the plate dissolving into a flash of sparkles.
In the doorway of the bedroom, she paused when she saw the mound on the left side of the bed, the blonde head just barely about the covers that had been pulled up over her shoulder.  For a moment, the feelings were so strong…a mix of love and longing and anger and ache…that Janeway’s knees actually went weak and she had to lean against the wall.  Gazing yearningly at the slender form of her spouse, she wanted nothing more than to fall into Seven’s embrace, to crawl into her arms and shut out everything that hurt.  Unfortunately, that sanctuary was denied her, so long as the source of all her pain was Seven herself.
Janeway swallowed back a sound of pure agony and moved silently through the bedroom into the ensuite where she listlessly prepared for sleep, removing her uniform and running it through the replicator to renew it before donning an oversized t-shirt.  Out in the bedroom, she hesitated briefly before quietly pulling back the covers and sliding between the sheets.  She carefully rolled over on her side, facing away from Seven, though she felt her heart ache when her spouse didn’t stir a millimeter.  Obviously this was far less bothersome to her than it was to Janeway.
Stiff, every muscle rigid, Janeway doubted she’d be able to fall asleep.  Lying there in the darkness, she listened to the regular respiration of her spouse, feeling as if life would never be the same for her.  Then somehow, between one breath and the next, she was asleep, or at least, unconscious to the world. Wakefulness took some time, a drowsy spell where her body showed a decided preference for not waking up at all.  When the sharp edge of awareness finally did arrive, she realized why she had been so reluctant.  A headache dug into her temples, sharp shards of pain that made her whimper softly and reach out for her spouse, wanting Seven to do something: retrieve a hypospray from the doctor, offer a soothing massage to her temples, just hold her like she used to do and if not ease the agony, then make it easier to bear.
Except the bed was empty with Janeway’s seeking hand finding only bare and cold sheets.  The emptiness inside her seemed to expand, and with an effort, she opened her eyes.
Everything was unfamiliar and she sat upright so quickly that the sharp throbbing in her temples almost made her vomit.  For a moment, nausea warred with the darkness edging her vision before she was able to bring both under control with a massive effort of mental energy.  Carefully, she opened her eyes once more and took in her surroundings.
On a second survey, it turned out they weren’t unfamiliar after all, yet remained horribly out of place.  She was lying in her bed in the captain’s quarters…on Voyager.
She shook her head slightly, an absurd attempt to bring things back to the reality she knew.  Nothing changed.  The bed was not as large as she remembered, but then, the bed she had slept in for four years had been smaller, hadn’t it.  She hadn’t requisitioned a larger one until…
Until Seven had moved in.
“Computer.”  Her voice was sharp, tinged with the slightest trace of panic.  “What's the Stardate?"
"It is Stardate 51369.6.”
“Impossible.”
She didn’t realize she had spoken out loud until the sound of her voice echoed in her ears, though the computer did not deign to answer.  She slipped from the bed and stood up, the deck cold beneath her feet.  Looking down at herself, she realized she was wearing a peach silk nightgown, something she hadn’t been in the habit of doing since discovering she had a decided preference for having her night clothes torn from her body by superior Borg strength.  She distinctly remembered putting on a t-shirt the night before.  Of course, she also distinctly remembered going to bed on Millennium and the Stardate being six years later. Was she dreaming?  Frowning, she pinched herself on the forearm, disappointed at the sharp pain that resulted.  On the other hand, she had experienced extremely lucid dream states before, usually at the hands of alien intervention.  Then there were other possibilities.
“Computer, command prerogative double blue dash seven nine. End program.”
No response and nothing changed.  No luck there.
Could this be an actual temporal distortion?  If so, there had been no warning, but if it were a type not before encountered, there wouldn’t necessarily be an alert from the bridge or the science decks prior to its occurrence.
Was she the only one affected?  She reached for the communicator lying on the nightstand, stopped, thought about it and slowly drew back her hand.  If this was a temporal distortion of some kind and she actually had been transported back six years into the Delta Quadrant, then there were certain rules and regulations that had to be followed, and they didn’t always include letting others know there was a time traveler in their midst.  She struggled to remember what exactly had been going on at this time six years earlier.
“Computer, please play back the last two days of Captain’s Logs, including any personal ones.”
Twenty minutes later, her memory was refreshed about the incident with the Mari, a telepathic race who had arrested B’Elanna for improper violent thoughts while the captain had been pressed to the limit to find a way to free her.  If it hadn’t been for the efforts of Tuvok and other members of her crew, it might have ended quite differently, with B’Elanna’s mind wiped and the Mari still oblivious to the trafficking in violent thoughts in their ‘perfect’ crime free society.
In seventeen days, if she remembered correctly, items would begin to disappear from the ship, equipment and weapons taken by a high-energy transport beam, including a holodeck program that contained the personality of Leonardo DaVinci.  She could order that space avoided, of course, but that would change the past, or rather, the future…her headache, which had been easing slightly, returned in full force.  She hated temporal anomalies with a passion.
Why was she here?  It was her experience that time travel didn’t just happen, something usually caused it and for a reason.  And that reason had to be addressed before things could return to normal.  She strained to remember any other events that had occurred in the upcoming days but failed to come up with anything of significance.  It had been a relatively quiet stretch of space, as was often the case.  Her life on Voyager…all their lives…had been nothing more than stretches of tedium and boredom interspersed with intense incidents of danger, destruction and death.  There had been nothing unusual during this period, but then, if the timeline had been altered or tampered with without her knowledge at the time, she wouldn’t necessarily remember.  The ‘she’ who existed at that time had been replaced with the person she would become six years later.
God, she was going around in circles at this point.  Nor did it help that she was suddenly very hungry.  That would teach her for bypassing the dinner that had been left out for her.  She headed for the door, hoping that Seven had left her something for breakfast before it struck her sharply that at this particular period of time, she and Seven were not a couple.  They had yet to even indicate a romantic interest in each other, though God knew, it had certainly been stirring in Janeway at the time.
Strength draining from her, she had to take a seat in the chair facing the foot of the bed.  As she did, she remembered how Seven and she had sat there all those years ago, discussing how they would embark on a relationship and how the captain had resisted so hard only to find, as she would so many times in the future, that resistance to this particular Borg was completely futile.  Despite herself, a smile lifted the corners of her lips and Janeway entertained the possibility that she would have to do it all over again.  The rest of it would undoubtedly drive her mad if she was forced to relive too much; the confrontations with the Hirogen and the Vaadwaur, the loss of crewmembers, the struggle to keep going in the Delta Quadrant, all the while knowing what was going to happen and helpless to change it without potentially causing something much worse to happen.  But being with Seven again?  Watching her grow and learn, loving her with all her heart as Seven loved her…no, that wouldn’t be bad at all.
But it would be so very difficult not to display any kind of fore knowledge until she managed to find a way to return to her own time.  She would just have to play it by ear, fitting into the role of being who she’d been then.  She exhaled audibly.  Trying to keep all the tenses straight would be an irritating, yet ongoing reality.
She stood up and went into the ensuite where she found a uniform waiting for her.  She couldn’t remember if she had been in the habit of putting one out for herself.  She thought it had been Seven who started that tradition.  After taking a quick shower…a much shorter ration of hot water than she was used to on Millennium…she pulled on the uniform and went out into the living area.  The coffee from the replicator was just as bad as she remembered it, devoid of caffeine and all the other good stuff that only the real thing possessed.  God, it would be months before Seven learned how to make a decent cup after a Bajoran orb teleported her, Chakotay and B’Elanna to Deep Space Nine where Phoebe would teach her the special Janeway recipe.
Stiffening her shoulders, she finished her breakfast, forced down the tepid coffee, and headed for the bridge.  She wasn’t quite sure what she’d do once she got there, but hopefully it would come to her.  As the turbolift ascended, she worried that she couldn’t remember if she had actually gone to the bridge on this day. Finally, she accepted the impossibility of her being able to duplicate her actions entirely.  It would be hard enough to remember exactly what she had done during the various major crises that would occur in the future.  There was no way she could remember the little details of day-to-day existence.  She would just have to follow her routine as best she could and hoped she didn’t make a mistake that attracted attention.
She suddenly felt very alone and vulnerable as the turbolift door slid open to reveal the familiar confines of Voyager’s bridge.  She paused briefly, absorbing the sight and sounds of her old ship, of being with her old crew.  To her left, Tuvok monitored the security station, while across from him, a younger and considerably thinner Harry Kim monitored operations.  Down on the main level, the solid build of Commander Chakotay was settled in the command chair while at the helm, located in the foremost part of the bridge and dominated by the large viewscreen looming over it, Tom Paris skillfully piloted the ship.
Careful, she thought, as she nodded briefly in greeting to her security chief.  Gracefully descending the short flight of stairs, she eyed Chakotay as he relinquished his seat to her.
“Good morning, Captain.”
“Good morning,” she said, taking her position as he sat down beside her a split second later.
“Report.”
“On course for the alpha quadrant,” Chakotay said pleasantly.  “All systems normal.”
“Good.”  Before she quite realized what she was doing, she had accessed the small console in the arm of her chair and was going over the status reports of the ship.  Routine had a strong influence on her, she decided ruefully, much stronger than she consciously realized.  She supposed it wasn’t much wonder that she hated change so much in her personal life.  Yet, the protocol and routine imposed on this vessel would make it easier for her to maintain her secret for as long as possible.
Then the hiss of the turbolift doors caught her attention and she turned to her right, looking over her shoulder.  She felt her breath catch as she saw the unmistakable form of Seven of Nine in the turbolift and thought suddenly that she wouldn’t be able to maintain her secret at all.
Not with the woman she loved so close…and yet so very far away.

Seven groaned softly, feeling a throbbing in her temples that was almost blinding in its intensity.  Opening her eyes, she was surprised and shocked to find herself standing upright…and in a Borg regeneration cubicle.  Immediately, she wrenched herself away from the alcove and stumbled from the dais, feeling as if her worst nightmare had come true, almost falling to the metal deck before she regained her footing.  Shakily, she teetered on unfamiliar spike heels, staring down at herself and seeing not the grafted cybernetic parts and space-black armor as she initially feared, but rather, a brown biosuit that had not resided in her wardrobe for years.  Relief ran strong and swift throughout her body.  She did not yet know where she was and what was happening to her but at the very least, she had not been assimilated.
With an effort, she calmed her breathing and looked around, absorbing the sight of containers and the line of four Borg alcoves, a workstation and storage boxes.  It was at once incredibly strange and altogether too familiar.  It was Cargo Bay Two.
What was she doing on Voyager?  And dressed as she had before she joined Starfleet?  Confusion reigned and she forced herself to remain still, to reason out what had suddenly become unreasonable.  The last thing she remembered was lying in her bed in her quarters on Millennium.  Unhappy and confused, she had remained still as she heard the captain enter their quarters, listening as she picked up the plate of dinner left for her and disposed of it, apparently uneaten, in the replicator.  Heard her as she crossed the living area to the bedroom where she stood in the doorway for some time, watching her.  Seven had wanted to turn over, to reach out her hand and ask Janeway to join her, but was too afraid of being rejected yet again.  So she remained silent, pretending to be asleep.
The bed dipped several minutes later, after Janeway had spend time in the ensuite preparing for bed, and then Seven felt her roll as far away from her as possible, back to her, clearly not wanting any contact at all.  Seven wept silent tears, convinced that nothing would ever be right again and certain that she would spend yet another night in wide-awake misery, when suddenly, and inexplicably, she was asleep.
And now she was here.  Nothing made sense.  Was this a temporal distortion of some kind, sweeping her from her bed and throwing back into the past?  She placed her hand on her stomach, dismayed to feel ridges beneath the thin fabric of the biosuit.  If she had somehow been transported back in time, why did she now have the abdominal implant that had been removed in her second year on Voyager?  Had only her consciousness been transported?
Or was this a nightmare of some kind?  A fantasy?
Frowning, she lifted her chin.  “Computer, end program.”
Nothing happened and somehow, she wasn’t surprised.  Life had never been that easy for her.
“Computer, what is the Stardate?”
“It is Stardate 51369.6.”
This was very bad and all she could think of was that she had to report to the captain.  She took a step forward and nearly fell again, twisting her ankle slightly in the type of heel that had not been worn for years…or at least, not since the last time Janeway had taken her out to a formal dinner.  Even then, Seven preferred lower heels, both for comfort and the fact that she did not like towering over her spouse while dancing.  As it was, she could not believe she had ever found this an efficient way to maneuver.  The Doctor must have been insane to design such footwear and at the time, she had simply not known any better.
She would just have to adapt, she told herself firmly.  Starting off more cautiously, she wobbled her way out of the cargo bay and into the corridor.  Crewmembers passed by, faces she had not encountered in years, including one she would never see in the Alpha Quadrant because he wouldn’t make it back.  She had an incredible urge to stop and say something to him, which would not only be completely out of character for her at this time, but would also be a complete violation of the Temporal Prime Directive.
Ah yes, the Temporal Prime Directive.  She worried at it as the turbolift carried her to the bridge.  Perhaps she could not report to the captain, after all.  If there was some kind of reason for Seven to have been displaced in time, some kind of mission for her to carry out, perhaps it was imperative that she not tell anyone what was happening until she knew more…and that included her beloved spouse.
Her breath suddenly caught as the doors hissed open and she froze.  She and the captain were not involved at this juncture of time.  As a matter of fact, Seven was still a figure of some suspicion for most of the crew, including Janeway to a certain extent.  If she began acting oddly, or at least, more oddly than they were used to, she could find herself in the brig where she would be unable to do anything at all to extricate herself from this very vexing situation.
“Seven?”
Tuvok was regarding her curiously and Seven realized that she had been standing for too long on the turbolift.  Janeway had risen to her feet and was looking at her, while Chakotay loomed mere inches behind the captain.
“I…” Seven hesitated.  She should have taken more time to regain her bearings, she berated herself, rather than rushing to see the captain.  Her first instinct to seek out Kathryn had been so strong it had overridden her intelligence.  It was far from being the only time it had ever happened, she knew, but right now, it could prove a most costly mistake.
“Are you all right, Seven?”
The captain’s voice was deep and concerned.  Seven stared at her.  Was there something in the captain’s gaze?  No, she had to be imagining it.  Janeway had always been more considerate of her than she was to other crewmembers.  Of course, there was an obvious reason for that in retrospect, but she shouldn’t have known it then, nor could she respond to the kindness as she wanted.  The headache that had been receding surged back with renewed determination.  Thinking both in past and present terms could be enough to destroy her cortical node, and she decided it would be better only to think in present terms and forget about the future for a while.
In the meantime, she had to make some kind of decision, formulate some kind of plan.
“May I see you in your ready room, Captain?” she asked finally, after taking far too long to come up with something to say.
Janeway frowned, but dipped her head slightly in assent.  “Of course.”
She led the way and Seven followed, abruptly conscious of Chakotay’s eyes on them.  He looked as if he expected Seven to assimilate the captain right in front of him and she realized she didn’t miss that look at all.  She also recognized that, at the time, she never would have noticed it, nor accorded it any emotion whatsoever since his opinion was of absolute no value to her.  Therefore, she should not look or feel the slightest bit hurt by such condemnation.  He was not the only one on the vessel who distrusted her.  She made a mental note to avoid B’Elanna for as long as possible, afraid she would find any attempt by the Klingon to be rude to her rather amusing, something that would only exacerbate the situation.
Inside the ready room, the captain took a seat behind the desk and looked up at her.  Seven was about to sit in the chair facing her when she realized that was not what she was supposed to do.  Instead, she forced herself to link her hands behind her back and stand at attention, even as she knew it would give Janeway a kink in her neck.
“Seven, please take a seat.”
Seven resisted the urge to smile and attempted to look baffled.  “Take it where?”
The captain closed her eyes and a trace of what might have been disappointment crossed her elegant features.  Seven had to remind herself not to react.  Just because she was extremely adept at reading Janeway’s expressions now, she had not been then.  She had to be very careful.
“Please, sit down, Seven.”
Seven hesitated a moment, and then sat down in the chair, arranging herself with precise attention to both posture and form, knowing it would not do to look too graceful or comfortable.  After all, she supposedly had known this woman…and humanity…for only a very brief time.
“What do you wish to see me about?”  Janeway leaned forward, linking her hands onto the desk and regarding her with keen eyes.  Seven’s memory of doing the most inappropriate and sensual things on that desk made the heat rise in her cheeks, much to her horror.  She hoped the pinkness of her face was not readily apparent to the captain.
Worse, now that she was here, she didn’t know what to say.  Desperately, she cast about, trying to come up with something.
“I wish to discuss…”  Seven faltered.  She was horrible at this.  The only way she could keep from being exposed would be to avoid contact with everyone, especially this woman.
“Yes?”
Janeway’s eyes were narrowed and they assessed her with somewhat chilly dispassion.  Seven realized it had been some time since she had experienced that. Frantically, she searched for a scenario and failed utterly, falling back finally on what had served her for so much of her existence…the complete and unvarnished truth.
“Captain, there has been a temporal incursion.”
Janeway blinked and looked surprised.  “How so?”  Her tone was sharp.
“I am not the Seven you know.  I am actually from the future.”
Janeway let out her breath slowly, looking Seven up and down.  Her gaze lingered for a long moment on her midsection and Seven wondered why…it usually lingered a bit higher under normal circumstances, even in this period of time…before those keen bluish gray eyes rose to meet hers squarely.
“Explain.”
“I am actually from six years in the future.”
“I see.  And what has caused you to return to this time period?”
Seven shook her head.  “I do not know.  I experienced a period of unconsciousness and when I regained awareness, I was in my Borg alcove here on Voyager.  I am unaware of any significant situation at this time that would cause such an event.  I did not experience any sense of displacement or physical anomaly aside from a headache, which is now subsiding.”
“Where were you when this happened?  In the future, I mean?”  Janeway was once again staring at Seven’s midsection.
Seven became cautious.  The thought of alien intervention occurred to her.  Perhaps she had been captured and placed in some kind of simulation in order to elicit information about Millennium.  Voyager and its varied missions were a matter of public record in the Alpha Quadrant, and to a certain extent, now in the Beta Quadrant due to the information databases exchanged with the Confederation so a believable re-creation could be done by someone with enough advanced holographic technology.  It was unlikely, but possible.
“Another vessel,” she replied shortly.
Janeway tilted her head.  “In the Alpha Quadrant?”
Seven wanted to smile.  The captain’s resolve to get her ship home had never wavered, and it would not be unlike her to want to know if they eventually returned even though, she knew as well as anyone, the dangers in knowing future outcomes.
“No, I was not in the Alpha Quadrant,” she replied honestly.
To her surprise, that did not dampen the captain’s intensity.  Instead, a light of what Seven could only determine was eagerness suddenly appeared in Janeway’s eyes.
“The Beta Quadrant, by any chance?  On a ship called Millennium that's currently on a year long mission to explore that area?”
Seven blinked and was forced to swiftly re-evaluate her situation.
“Kathryn?”
Janeway exhaled audibly and stood up, circling the desk.  Seven had barely enough time to rise so that she could capture her in a strong embrace that was fiercely returned.
“Oh, God, Seven, it is you.  I didn’t know…your abdominal implant made me think I was dealing with a Seven from another timeline.”
“What is happening, Kathryn?”
“I don’t know, darling, but we’ll find out.”  Janeway’s facial features were set into utter determination and authority, an expression Seven had been missing for far too long. It thrilled to hear the commanding tone and suddenly, she had the unmistakable, if illogical, feeling that everything was going to be absolutely all right after all.

“Do you think anyone else has been brought back in time?”

They were sitting on the couch on the upper level of the ready room, close enough to touch but not so close as to be inappropriate should someone enter without warning.  Though, if Janeway remembered correctly, Seven was the only one who ever had a habit of coming into her ready room without an invitation.

She considered it.  “I think it would have to be someone who not only serves on Millennium in the future, but also on Voyager now.  That leaves out Kes, but it does include B’Elanna, Ro, Tom Paris, Samantha Wildman, and the Doctor.  And if they remember their Temporal Prime Directive, they’re doing exactly what we’re doing, trying to keep a low profile, playing the role of their past selves and doing their best to figure out what’s going on.”

Seven glanced down at her body, specifically her stomach. “Kathryn, we haven’t entirely been transported back in time.  I believe I am a consciousness in the physical manifestation of the person I was then…now.”

“I think you're right, though heaven knows, I certainly don’t feel any younger in this body.”  Seven smiled at the observation and Janeway laughed quietly.  “You’re going to have to stop that, you know.  In this time period, it’s not in your nature to smile or even look cheerful in any way.”

Seven’s smile disappeared as her ocular implant lifted slightly.  “You are correct.  It will be very difficult for me to maintain secrecy.”

Janeway reached over and took her hand.  “We’ll figure it out, sweetheart.”

“Let us hope so.”  Seven bent her head, her expression thoughtful.  “Kathryn, regarding the others you mentioned who may also have been transported, you neglected to mention Naomi Wildman.  If her future consciousness has been displaced, she now exists within a very young child’s body.  That could have extremely damaging consequences.”

“God, you’re right.  It’ll be a lot harder for a teenaged Naomi to play the role of a two-year-old child if she’s also been transported.  We’d better check on her first.  Though if her mother has also been transported back, together, they’ll be able to keep a lid on it for awhile.”

“But not for long,” Seven pointed out.  “Neelix is very attentive to the child in this time.  He will discover an anomaly in his friends very quickly.”

Janeway let go of Seven’s hand and rubbed her eyes with her palms.  “In a way, I hope it’s only us, darling.  It would make things less complicated.”

“It would,” Seven agreed.

And there was a part of Janeway that was very much enamored with the idea of just her and her spouse against the universe.  All the angst and hurt had been set aside in unspoken agreement, a silent pact to work together as they confronted this complicated situation.  It was a matter of necessity, of course, but for the captain, it made her feel strong again, in a way she hadn’t felt in some time.  Though if she cared to examine it, it raised the immediate question of why she had been hanging onto her hurt and the anger so long.  Especially if it could so easily be set aside, and with a sense of overwhelming relief rather than any fear that she would be hurt again.  She decided she’d better not go down that road any further at the moment.  It was neither the place…nor the time.

“I want you to check on Naomi, Samantha and B’Elanna.  I’ll check on the Doctor, Ro and Tom Paris.  Once we determine how many are involved in this time shift, then we’ll start analyzing the data in the hopes it will give us a clue as to what exactly is going on and why.”

“Understood.”  Seven paused.  “Kathryn, it is not only because the situation will be less complicated that I hope it is only us that is affected.  I want to be in this situation with only you, and I know that together, we stand a much better chance of solving it than apart.”

Janeway felt her heartbeat quicken, warmth spreading through her.  “I believe that, as well.  I just wish it wasn’t so hard to keep from kissing you.”

Seven started to say something, hesitated, and then leaned forward to press her lips firmly against Janeway’s.  It caught Janeway by surprise, but it wasn't unwelcome.  How long had it been since they’d kissed like this?  How long since she’d felt these strong arms around her, holding her close, protecting her, keeping her safe?  Moaning softly, she slipped her arms around the slender shoulders, clinging to her tightly.  It was like coming home, and she wondered why she had denied herself of it for so long.  Was pride and hurt worth losing any of this?

“Do not ever resist your need to kiss me,” Seven whispered softly when they finally parted, resting her forehead against Janeway’s.  “Please.”

Janeway exhaled quietly, feeling a sort of relaxation seep through her body.  “We have to be careful, darling, but I promise, once this is finished, no more foolishness from me about our relationship.  I can’t even remember why I was being so stupid.”

“Not stupid,” Seven corrected immediately.  “You were hurt and rightfully so.”

“But I can’t afford to let it control my actions any longer.”  Janeway drew back and smiled somewhat painfully at her.  “In the meantime, we have to remember where and when we are.”

“Not a couple,” Seven acknowledged somewhat sadly.  “Not lovers and perhaps, not even friends at this point.”

Janeway cupped her cheek in her palm, feeling the warmth of her smooth skin.  “Always friends, my love. Always.”

“And always my captain.”

“That, too.”  They grinned at each other, and Janeway was about to kiss her again when the chime from her door interrupted the thought.  She offered a rueful look and drew back her hand, the warmth of Seven lingering in her fingers and palm.  With an effort, she put some more distance between herself and Seven on the sofa.  “Come.”

Chakotay entered the ready room, glancing around before he spotted the women on the upper level.  He eyed Seven with an odd expression as he ascended the short flight of stairs, and Janeway felt herself bristling defensively.  Chakotay had been extremely wary of Seven in this time period, and while she couldn’t haul off and belt him for it, she certainly wanted to. As it was, it made her tone a bit sharper than it should be. “What is it, Commander?”

Seven shot her a look, but didn’t say anything as she rose gracefully from the sofa.  She nodded briefly to the first officer.  “Commander.”

Chakotay’s eyes followed her out in a way that Janeway didn’t like very much and she felt her heart rate increase.  “Commander?” she repeated, irritability predominant in her tone.

It surprised him.  He turned to her with a confused, inquiring look.  “Captain, is something wrong?  Did Seven do something?”

“Why would Seven have done anything?”

He got that patient expression on his face, as if Janeway was a not particularly bright child when it came to a situation that he just had to clarify for her in his infinitely wise and condescending Native-American way.  She had forgotten how much it annoyed her.

“Seven’s been known to be difficult to handle.”

“You let me worry about Seven.  You can worry about the rest of the ship.”

“Actually, I am, Captain. I don’t mean to overstep my bounds, but there are a lot of people on this vessel who are very uneasy about having a Borg in the crew.  As first officer, I would be remiss if I didn’t let you know about it, or help you see how destructive such a division in the crew could be.”

Janeway felt her jaw tighten and it took an effort not to grind her back teeth. “What people?”

“B’Elanna for one.”

The incongruity struck her immediately and before she could stop it, Janeway let out an inelegant snort of laughter. It clearly confused him and she had to bite down on the second chuckle.  “She’ll get over it, as will the rest of the crew.  I know in my heart that Seven will become a very valuable member of Voyager.”

He exhaled audibly, clearly not agreeing with the assessment.  “How can you be so sure, Kathryn?”

“I trust my instincts.”  She paused.  “You used to trust them, as well.”

He had the grace to look shamefaced at that.  “I still do.  It’s just…she’s been Borg a long time.  She grew up as a member of a greater collective.  Suddenly becoming an individual could be damaging to her in ways that we don’t understand and for which we might not be ready.”

“That’s why I’ll be there for her all the way.  Don’t worry, Chakotay, Seven will never be alone again.  Ever.”  Janeway realized she had put a little too much emphasis on that when she saw his expression change. She knew a change of subject was needed.  “Is that why you came in here?”

“No.”  He passed her a padd.  “I wanted to discuss these recommendations for the new astrometrics lab upgrades.  Do we really need to continue allocating this many resources to the project?  Harry and Seven have already overhauled it from top to bottom.  The other enhancements seem excessive.”

Janeway resumed her seat on the sofa, and at her unspoken invitation, he settled into the chair.  “This lab is going to prove invaluable to us, Chakotay.  We need all the upgrades in the section that we can manage.”

He smiled suddenly, his teeth white against his olive complexion.  “Kathryn, excuse me for saying so, but you’re just full of predictions today.  When did you become so optimistic about the future?”

“Chakotay, you have no idea.”  Janeway looked over the data, wondering if she should make any adjustments.  There were a few areas she knew could be streamlined and made more efficient because of what subsequently did happen, but she didn’t think she could afford to alter anything.  “These look fine to me. Is there any particular area you feel is a trouble spot?”

“We could use the resources in other parts of the ship, and frankly, we’ve done perfectly well without an updated astrometrics lab for years.”

Janeway tried to remember if she had this argument with her first officer the last time.  It didn’t seem familiar but then, it was such a small thing that perhaps she wouldn’t.  After all, she was the one who ultimately made the decisions, and to be completely honest with herself, if she wanted something, then she usually got it.  Any opposition was merely a formality and not something that she tended to make note of.  It was only when she was actually thwarted in her goals that opposition from others stuck in her mind.

“All the increased space in the ship’s databanks is going to be needed.  I’m authorizing the request.”

Chakotay hesitated and then leaned forward, his big hands palm up on his knees, as if in supplication.  “Then maybe I’m just worried about where all these requests are coming from.”

“So we’re back to Seven.”  Janeway felt tension pull her shoulders together and feather a small, questing tendril of pain toward her right eye.  “I’m not going to have this same discussion over and over with you, Chakotay.  You’re wrong about her and this continued animosity will only hurt her and the ship.”

He lifted his hands, obviously trying to diffuse the anger that was lacing her tone.  “Captain, I’m not trying to be difficult, honestly.  It’s my job as your first officer to point out things that you may be missing.”  His eyes grew darker.  “Don’t forget, I was temporarily assimilated.”

“What you went through wasn’t close to assimilation.” Janeway, who had been assimilated and knew the shattering power of it, spoke without thinking, her voice heavy with scorn.  At the tightening around his eyes, she was forced to quickly cover.  “Chakotay, you were connected into a collective mind by Riley to facilitate your healing, but what they had wasn’t the same type of collective that the Borg have, it was only a pale imitation.  With a real assimilation…well, you just don’t come back from it so easily.”

She had made him angry, she could tell, but he was holding onto his temper with admirable control.  “Captain, that’s my point, exactly.  Seven can’t simply walk away from eighteen years in the Collective without repercussions.  She’s already tried to contact the Borg to retrieve her.  And then, just a signal from the Raven caused her to steal a shuttle and violate B’omar space.  We were lucky to get out with no casualties.”

“I’m not saying that Seven hasn’t had problems, or even that she won’t have them in the future, but I’m not about to give up on her because of them.”

“You don’t have to give up on her, but, well, forgive me for saying so, Captain, but it’s beginning to seem like you have a bit of a blind spot when it comes to her.”

“Like I had for you when I made you my first officer?”  That struck amidships and he blinked, temporarily speechless.  She took full advantage of her opening.  “The arguments you’re presenting now about Seven aren’t so very different than the arguments Tuvok offered when I was considering an alliance with the Maquis and making you my first officer.  I wasn’t wrong then and I’m not wrong now.”  She put down the padd and pinned him with her best command look.  “That’s the end of the matter.”

She knew it wouldn’t be because other things would happen and the discussion would be resurrected again, but hopefully it would shut him up for the duration of her stay in this time period.  Otherwise, it was going to be extremely difficult to maintain objectivity when it came to the woman who meant more to her than her command.
And tossing Chakotay into the brig for the duration was simply not an answer no matter how appealing the idea might be.

Seven hesitated outside the door on deck four, afraid of what she would find, yet knowing it still had to be done. Gently, she pressed the chime, and when the door hissed open, found herself staring into the eyes of Samantha Wildman.  It only took a few seconds to realize this was not the woman who was the head of Millennium’s biometrics department.  Seven instantly recognized the mix of confusion, surprise and trace of fear that crossed Samantha’s features.

“Yes?”

“Lt. Wildman?”  Fortunately, Seven had a story ready.  “I apologize for disturbing you so late, but I was wondering if you could assist me with a biometrics problem.”

Samantha hesitated but finally nodded, stepping back to allow her entrance into the cabin.  Seven glanced around and saw Naomi playing in the corner with some toys.  The little girl regarded her with somber, wide-eyed fascination.

“It’s Ensign.”

Seven blinked and turned to Samantha.  “Excuse me?”

“It’s Ensign, not Lieutenant.”

“Of course,” Seven said as smoothly as she could.  “I was misinformed.”

Samantha was staring at her oddly, but Seven wasn’t sure if it was because she wasn’t the best when it came to deception, or if were simply because Seven of Nine, a person not known for reaching out to others in the crew, was in her quarters.

“What’s the problem?”

Seven handed over a padd.  “These readings on Srivani may provide us with a clue as to how they were able to remain invisible while they experimented on the crew.  It is entirely possible the device they used left some traces on their genetic code, but I am unable to determine what.”

Samantha scanned the data, appearing somewhat flattered that Seven had come to her regarding her research.  While she worked, Seven glanced around the cabin. It was the standard issue crew quarters, small and cramped, with every piece of furniture having a dual purpose, such as the table that doubled as a desk. Yet, for all its austerity, Samantha had made an effort to incorporate personal touches.  A pastel painting hung neatly on the wall, providing a bright splash of color to the muted blues and grays, while a soft wine-shaded blanket was thrown casually over the small sofa.

Naomi had apparently lost interest in her mother’s guest and returned to her play, a structured pattern of recreational endeavor that Seven recognized as a ‘tea party’.  Three dolls and a bear attended, sitting upright in small chairs surrounding a low table. Pink dishes littered the surface as Naomi carefully poured imaginary liquids into the cups and offered them with appropriate commentary to each toy.  Seven was not able to identify the dolls, but she knew the stuffed animal’s name was Critter, a battered, much loved toy that tended to travel everywhere with Naomi.  Even in the future, though the teenager would be loath to admit it, he would occupy a significant place on Naomi’s bed long after she had left all other toys behind and had turned her attention to popular culture, hanging out with her friends and boys.

Focusing her complete attention on Naomi, including the entire range of her ocular implant, Seven intently scrutinized the child’s every move. It did not take her long to realize this was not a teenager in a child’s body.  At this stage of her maturity at age two, four in Ktarian terms, she indicated no developmental behavior beyond that.  Seven concluded that neither of these individuals had been thrown back in time.

For the next twenty minutes, she listened politely as Samantha offered her opinion on the data, complimented her on her astuteness regarding the theory, thanked her for her time, demurred when she was offered a sociable drink and took her leave.  As she strode down the corridor, a small smile curled the corners of her mouth.  Undoubtedly, should she be asked, Samantha Wildman would have a much different take on the Borg than others in the crew, which could alter the timeline.  Despite the possible temporal repercussions, however, Seven did not regret her choice of actions in the encounter.  Should she be forced to relive it all, it would be beneficial to have an ally other than Janeway.  And it would be instructive to interact with Naomi at a younger age.

As Seven entered Engineering, she was struck by how restrictive it was compared to the massive multilevel expanses of Millennium’s engineering section.  Yet for its smaller size and limitation, it was much noisier, the warp engines issuing a more pervasive and penetrating hum than the newer, more technologically advanced units of her future ship.  Just inside the doors, she hesitated, looking around uncertainly and aware of the engineering crewmembers glancing at her with suspicion, either surreptitiously or openly.  Then she saw B’Elanna on the upper level.  The Klingon had obviously spotted her and was now descending the stairs in a rush, prepared to defend her territory against the invading Borg.

Seven lifted a brow and waited patiently, hands behind her back, head tilted slightly.  B’Elanna looked so young and serious, jaw stuck out pugnaciously, dark eyes sparking with dangerous intent.  It was almost adorable.

“What do you want?”

Seven’s ocular implant lifted slightly.  “I wish to speak with you, B’El---Lieutenant.”

“What about?  Some of us have work to do, you know.”

“I know.  Would it be possible to speak in your office?”

She saw that the reasonable request took B’Elanna by surprise and she wondered if she had truly been so hard to deal with in this time period or if B’Elanna was simply too immature to adapt to politeness.  On the other hand, Seven was self aware enough to know that it was probably a case of both women possessing behavioral patterns that did not easily promote mutual understanding.  Though if B’Elanna had also been thrown back in time, she could currently be playing the role of antagonist toward Seven, a belligerent persona she could easily resume with very little effort.  Their friendship had always been laced with a certain amount of competitiveness, both professionally and personally in a way that Seven did not entirely understand, but always found quite invigorating.

“All right, come on then.”

The invitation was not offered graciously, and Seven swallowed back her smile as she followed her into the office.  It was only when she was inside that she realized she had never entered this room during her time on Voyager, and perhaps with good reason.  It was a severely limited space, made even smaller by the clutter of certain engineering parts, padds and tools that Seven was unable to fully identify.  Distastefully, she removed a dusty unit from a warp manifold alternator, deposited it on the floor, brushed off the seat fastidiously and sat down.

B’Elanna was staring at her.  “Make yourself comfortable.”  The words were laced with heavy sarcasm.

“Thank you, I have.”

She waited patiently as B’Elanna continued to stare at her for a moment, perplexity paramount in her eyes before she grudgingly took a seat behind the desk.  “What do you want?”

“I have detected a variance in the port plasma slipstream,” Seven said.  If B’Elanna was from the future, she’d immediately pick up on the reference to the transwarp application that eventually enabled them to return to the Alpha Quadrant.  If not, then Seven could attribute it to a slip of the tongue.

“The what?”

“A variance in the plasma stream,” Seven corrected smoothly, though not without a little disappointment.  It might have provided a certain entertainment value to have B’Elanna in this time period with her, though the trouble they could cause would undoubtedly disrupt several timelines and provide their captain with headaches beyond imagining.

“What are you babbling about?”  Impatience warred with confusion in B’Elanna’s voice.

Seven handed her a padd detailing the variance that she had actually introduced to the system prior to embarking on her mission to discover if anyone else had been transported through time with them.  B’Elanna gave it a curt glance and then glared at Seven.

“I can’t believe you’re wasting my time with this.  It’s a minor phase variance, nothing more.”

“It may be indicative of something damaging.”  Seven was starting to enjoy this.

“It’s not.”

“If it were someone else bringing you this data, would you take it more seriously?”

“What?”

“Your unrelenting hostility to me may be compromising your professional integrity.”

B’Elanna slammed her hands down on the desk.  “Okay, I’ve had just about enough of this.  Time for you to leave.”

“Interesting.”  Seven eyed her coolly.  “Any theory I offer is immediately rejected.  Typical of your type of personality.”

“And what type is that?”  B’Elanna’s voice grew dangerous.

“It is my assessment such blatant displays of dislike are actually an indication of great fear.”

B’Elanna’s eyes bugged out, clearly outraged at the suggestion…as Seven knew she would be.  “You think I’m afraid of you? That’s insane.”

“Insanity is something ascribed to Klingons on more than one occasion. It is something in which they take considerable pride, particularly of the berserker type.  Perhaps that is merely a camouflage for a pervasive, species-wide underlying fear as well.”

Seven watched as B’Elanna’s skin grew noticeably darker and she wondered idly if the engineer would attack her.  Then it occurred to her that she was enjoying this entirely too much and it was time to get back to what she was there for.  “I wonder what Ro’s assessment of this will be?”

B’Elanna, who had opened her mouth to say something, undoubtedly something profane and uncomplimentary, abruptly stopped and looked completely baffled.  “What?  Who the hell is Ro?”

“Who is Ro?”

“That’s what I said!  Who’s Ro?”

“I do not know.  Who is Ro?”

“What?”

“What?”

“You said Ro.”

“I did not.”

B’Elanna started to say something, stopped, and finally settled on staring at Seven with a completely bewildered expression on her face.  “I think you’ve finally lost it, Borg.  You’re officially crazy.”

Seven, about to say something cutting and clever, abruptly realized she wouldn’t know how to formulate such a devastating retort at this point of her development and contented herself with merely looking superior, which she knew drove B’Elanna absolutely mad.  Sure enough, B’Elanna’s face darkened again and Seven decided that it was time to move on before B’Elanna took it into her head to actually enter into a physical altercation with her.  While that would be somewhat amusing, it could draw attention to the fact that Seven was not who everyone thought she was.  In that event, she would have some difficult explanations to provide to the captain.  Besides, there was no question that this was not the B’Elanna of the future.

That woman was so much harder to provoke with just a look.

Janeway stepped off the turbolift onto deck twelve where crew quarters were located.  After talking to Tom Paris, all the while being as subtle as she could, she determined that he hadn’t been thrown back in time. The Doctor was easier.  She merely had to run a diagnostic on his program to discover nothing out of the ordinary.  She was glad of that because it lessened the chances of her being detected that way whereas getting into a discussion with the EMH might have caused her to make a mistake.

Now she was on her way to see Ro Laren.  If there was anyone in the crew who could cover her tracks and keep people from knowing she had been switched, it was the Bajoran.  The problem was, in this time period, Janeway wasn’t supposed to know she was Ro Laren.  She was actually going by the name Ara Lerona, having infiltrated the Maquis cell commanded by Chakotay and was currently wanted by Starfleet authorities for desertion and treason.  The only person who was aware of her true identity on Voyager was Tuvok, and he had helped her cover it up for years.  Janeway still wasn’t quite sure how she would approach it so that no one would be the wiser about her deception if it turned out Ro hadn’t been transferred in time.  Of course, just going to see her should set off alarm bells in a future Ro because there hadn’t exactly been a lot of encounters between them prior to her true identity being revealed, nor had she ever visited Ro in her quarters in this time period.  On the other hand, if this situation eventually became handled in a way that left those memories erased or removed, then the future Ro wouldn’t necessarily remember a meeting between herself and the captain prior to the crucial revelation.

She wondered what was going on with the entities they had replaced, the Janeway and Seven of this time.  Had they been transported to the Millennium of the future?  She didn’t have any memory of such an event, but then, would she until after she returned?  And if their temporal counterparts were receiving an all too revealing look at the future, how would that affect the past once they came back?

Assuming that happened, Janeway thought darkly, temples throbbing briskly as they always did when she tried to work through the tangled ramifications of temporal disturbance.  Before she quite realized it, she was standing outside the door leading to Ara’s quarters that she shared with Ensign Dorado from geometrics.  She pressed the chime and waited patiently until the door hissed open to reveal Ro.

Janeway stifled the smile that wanted to break through when she saw the dark eyes widen with dismay and perhaps a hint of suspicion.  “Ensign?”

“Captain?”  There was a brief pause, pregnant with a myriad of layers. “You wish to see me?”

“May I come in?”

Uncertainly, Ro stepped back, granting the captain entrance into the cabin.  Janeway glanced around, uncomfortably aware of how small it was.  It was almost as bad as the quarters allocated at Starfleet Academy, with room for two bunks, a desk and sofa, impersonal, like a hotel room.  How had people managed for seven years sharing quarters like these?  It made her ashamed and impressed her again with the crew of Voyager who had stuck by her through thick and thin.  She also appreciated Chakotay a bit more for being in charge of such arrangements, for making sure roommates were compatible and people didn’t feel constrained by such meager accommodations.  If she ended up trapped in this time period, perhaps she could arrange something to allot more living space, though how she’d manage that, she had no idea.

She turned, aware of Ro regarding her with narrowed eyes, a pinched look on her face. Janeway noticed that none of her natural grace was present. Instead, her shoulders were slumped and her head bent submissively.  Her hands picked absently at her tunic in a way that made Janeway uncomfortable, which was the purpose, she supposed.  The Ro she knew had a controlled grace, a deadly way of moving that precluded unnecessary or wasted motion.

Playing the role, Janeway thought. The meek, mild Ara Lerona, shy and withdrawn, not one to notice at all.  The captain certainly hadn’t noticed her for five years.  Only by looking closely could Janeway see the woman she would become, the first officer she would be to her in all but actual rank.

Even if Ro had not been swept up in the temporal anomaly, a part of Janeway still wanted to tell her everything, get her input on what was happening, but she didn’t dare, and not only because of the Temporal Prime Directive.  It would be incredibly unfair to burden Ro with all that would happen in the future, not just the good, but the bad as well.  Janeway knew that Ro was strong enough to handle it and not say anything for several years if required, but it would take a toll over the long run that no one should have to carry.

“It’s come to my attention that you’ve become a valuable member of my crew, Ensign,” Janeway said instead, with a warm smile.  “Tuvok is very complimentary about you.”

“Commander Tuvok?”  Ro was clearly surprised, yet she maintained her deferential attitude, the very picture of a mousy, insignificant individual.  She was good, Janeway admitted.  She searched the familiar features, trying to see some hint of the woman of the future.

“Yes, he seems to think that you could go far even if you lack Starfleet training.”  Janeway hesitated, trying to come up with something reasonable that would not give her away to Ara, yet let a future Ro know she had been thrown back in time as well.  “After all, it’s not enough to be able to handle yourself in a bar brawl, but in diplomatic areas as well.”

The only response was a trace of fear in her expression, not recognition of the adventure they would share on an alien spaceport. Sadly, Janeway realized she would just have to get through this without her friend and most trusted senior officer.

“Uh, I’m not sure I understand, Captain.”

Janeway stifled her sigh.  “Well, I just happened to be passing by and wanted to let you know that I appreciate your efforts over the past few years.  I look forward to your future progress, Ensign.”  It wasn’t the most graceful kind of exit line but it was the best she could come up with.

“Thank you, Captain.”  But Ara’s voice was uncertain, and it was clear that she was completely disconcerted by the encounter with Janeway.

Janeway turned and exited the cabin, feeling awkward and a little dismayed at being so clumsy.  She hoped Ara would be able to forget the whole event and not let it alter in any way who and what she would become in the future.

Her eyebrow lifted when she saw the lean, dark form of her security chief standing at the end of the corridor.  Now what would bring Tuvok down here to the lower decks?  Janeway suspected she had a pretty good idea.

“Commander?”

“Captain.  May I be of assistance?”

Janeway smiled as he fell into step with her.  “Why would you imagine that I require assistance, Tuvok?”

Dark eyes flashed as he glanced sidewise at her.  “It has come to my attention that you and Seven have been acting somewhat…oddly since your meeting this morning.”

Ah, so he wasn’t down here merely to protect his protégée, though Janeway suspected that was part of why he was confronting her here in the lower decks rather than on the bridge.  He was probably concerned about what she had talked about with Ro.

“Oddly?”

”You have been initiating uncharacteristic encounters with specific members of the crew, particularly in the case of Seven of Nine.”

Janeway sighed.  She had been afraid Seven wouldn’t be able to pull it off.  To be fair, even Seven hadn’t expected that level of subtle deception of herself.  Not that Janeway had apparently done much better or Tuvok wouldn’t have tracked her down here. Now that he was suspicious, the only way to derail what could become a very complicated situation would be to take him into her confidence…if only in a limited fashion.

“Tuvok, there is something going on here, but at the moment, the Prime Directive prohibits me from speaking with you or anyone else about it.”

“The Prime Directive?”  Tuvok stepped onto the turbolift and was silent as it ascended, absorbing what she had said.  It took a few moments, but he came to the logical conclusion, as she knew he would.  “Do you perhaps refer to the temporal version of that protocol?”

Janeway didn’t dare look at him.  “Yes.”

“And this involves Seven of Nine as well?”

“Yes.”

They stepped off the lift onto the bridge and without saying anything further, Tuvok followed Janeway into the ready room, the door hissing shut behind them.  She took a seat behind the desk and regarded him, absorbing his severe features framed by elegantly pointed ears with affectionate pleasure.  It had been awhile since she had seen him outside of a viewscreen and it made her realize how much she missed his steady friendship.

“Is there any way in which I or the crew can assist you?”

She felt relief seep through her as she realized he was accepting her words at face value.  He could have easily suspected something else, something along the lines of an alien intrusion or mind influence.  Instead, his quiet offer of support eased the weight on her shoulders, lightened her heart, and made everything else a great deal easier.

“Not yet, old friend.  With any luck, we’ll be able to deal with it without involving anyone else.”

“I understand, Captain.  I await your orders.”

“I’ll let you know when I have any.  In the meantime, you’re dismissed.”

He turned to go and she lifted her head.  “Tuvok?”

He paused just inside the door.  “Captain?”

“Thank you.”

He lifted a brow in acknowledgement of her gratitude and exited, leaving Janeway alone in the ready room and wondering what her next move should be. Probably she should confer with Seven and see what she had discovered in her investigation. The fact that her heart gave a pleasant little flip at the thought only reminded her of how much she had missed being with Seven, and how much she had to resolve this lingering conflict between herself and her beloved spouse once and for all.

Seven lifted her head as she heard the hiss of the door behind her, glancing over her shoulder to see Janeway enter Astrometrics.  It was so achingly familiar that she smiled brightly at the captain before she was aware of it.  Across the room, Jennifer Delaney, already tense about working with an ex-Borg, immediately stopped what she was doing and gaped at Seven in utter astonishment.  Seven noticed it and promptly sobered, shooting an icy glance at the ensign that caused her to hastily finish up and vacate astrometrics for another part of the ship.

Janeway sighed ruefully once she had left.  “Darling, I never thought I’d ever tell you not to smile, but honestly, you need to restrain yourself.”

“I know, Kathryn.”  Seven dipped her head.  “Yet, it is difficult not to be happy whenever I see you.”

Janeway hesitated, then reached over and patted her forearm as she paused by the main astrometrics console.  “I feel the same,” she said in a soft voice before looking up at the expansive viewscreen that dominated the room.  “Have you managed to come up with anything regarding our situation?”

Seven shook her head, feeling a flicker of frustration ripple through her. “I have no idea where to start, Captain.  There is no sign of temporal flux in our bodies, but then there would not be if it were only our consciousness that had been transported through time.  The sensors do not detect any kind of temporal distortion within several light years, nor are there any lingering traces of one having occurred within the last six months.”

“Then what the hell is going on here?”  Janeway started to pace, striding back and forth on the upper level at the base of the viewscreen.  “There has to be some purpose to this, some reason that we’re here, and some evidence of what happened.  What could have caused this?”

“I do not know.”  Seven reacted to the sudden irritation in Janeway’s voice with a painful thud of her heart.  The prickly tone reminded her sharply that things were not entirely all right between them, and just because they were forced to unite in a common cause didn’t mean things were forgotten.  “I wish I could give you better answers, Captain.”

Janeway paused in her pacing and turned to stare at her. Her features, which had been twisted up in anger and frustration, smoothed out.

“I know you do, darling. I’m sorry. We’re in this together, and I don’t need to be taking my bad mood out on you.”  She pursed her lips wryly.  “Though it certainly isn’t the first time it will happen, it may be the first in this timeline.”

Seven tilted her head slightly, hope rising just a little in her chest. “Kathryn, I understand.”

“I know you do.  You always do.”  Janeway’s eyes grew dark.  “I’ve been taking out my bad mood on you for a while now.”

Seven shrugged lightly, lifting on shoulder.  “You had every reason to do so.”

“No, I didn’t, but even knowing that, I couldn’t seem to help it.”  Janeway looked very sober.  “You’ve been my strength so many times, Seven, more times than I can count, it seems. But you’re also my greatest weakness. You can hurt me ... hurt my command ... in a way that no one else can.  I have to trust that you won’t, and that when you do, you have an exceptionally good reason for it.”  She hesitated, her jaw set firmly.  “Without that trust, we can’t work together.”

Seven felt her breath coming hard, knowing this was a crucial moment, perhaps even one that would enable them to move forward.  “I know, Kathryn.  I understand that as well.”  She searched for the words as she studied the worn features of her beloved spouse.  “I will not apologize for wanting ... for needing ... to protect my family in any way that I can.  I cannot do that.  This is who I am and who I will always be.  You, Gretchen, Phoebe, all the others whom I love, will always be of prime importance, far more than Starfleet or some esoteric ideal of human behavior.”

Janeway nodded, but remained silent, as if afraid her voice would not be steady enough to reply.

“But I do apologize for how I went about it on Millennium,” Seven continued.  "I should not have gone to Lenara, or at least, should not have stayed with her for those two nights.  I did need a friend, and she was kind to me, but there was also a part of me that subconsciously knew staying in her quarters would bother you beyond that simple act of friendship.  B'Elanna said that had we still been in the Confederation, I would have contacted Tazna Jade and requested sanctuary with her."  Seven felt the sharp pinprick of shame once more, one that sharpened when she saw the tightening around Janeway’s mouth.  "Perhaps that is a valid assessment.  Not because I would wish to be with either woman romantically.  I would never want that.  But I did want to hurt you, and staying with Lenara was the most efficient way to accomplish it.  That was very wrong, and I am sorry, Kathryn."

There was a shimmering in the blue-gray eyes as the captain spoke, her words husky and still threaded with pain.  “We can’t work things out if you’re not with me.”

Seven knew that separating herself from Janeway had shaken her spouse’s foundation in a way that other behaviors from her, even the angriest of personal conflicts, could not.  She reached out and beckoned Janeway closer. Slowly, the captain descended from the dais and stood beside Seven, looking up into her face with aching vulnerability. Seven took Janeway’s hand and squeezed it gently.

“I know what I did hurt you, far more than I realized at the time.”  Her voice was very gentle.  “I also know that I am reacting to situations in ways that I did not when I was less developed as an individual, and I must consider that carefully.  But I did not mean for you to think I had left you, Kathryn, or that I wished to alter the conditions of our marriage.  It proved itself an unwise course of action and it will not happen again.”  She paused and lifted an eyebrow.  “I promise that in the upcoming future, when I am angry with you, I will always remain at your side and inform you of it constantly so that there will be no misunderstanding of my intent.”

Janeway managed a somewhat twisted grin.  “That would be better.”

Seven doubted the captain would think so once it occurred, but she did not say so.  Instead, she pulled Janeway to her in a loving embrace, burying her face in the soft, auburn hair.  “There will never be anyone else for me, Kathryn.”

The captain exhaled softly, her voice muffled against the front of Seven’s uniform.  “I guess ... I’d become complacent, Seven.  I was so happy, and I began to think nothing could or would ever change that.  Then, in an instant, it was completely turned around.  It frightened me.  It still does. And now everything has changed for us, our place, our time, our situation…maybe that’s my punishment for being so damn smug about my place in the universe.”

“One thing has not changed, Kathryn, and will never change.  I love you.  I always have, I always will.”  She tightened her arms around Janeway, holding her as close as she could without harming her.  “We will work this out, Kathryn.  We will find a way to make things right.”

“I know we will.”

And for the first time in a long time, Janeway sounded as if she truly believed it.  Seven felt relief rush through her and she drew back enough to press her lips against Janeway’s soft, full mouth.  The kiss went on for some time, and it was only with reluctance…and the knowledge of where and when they were…that they finally let go of each other.

Just in time. As they separated, the door to Astrometrics hissed open, heralding the arrival of Commander Chakotay. If he noticed anything between the women, he didn’t indicate it.  The glance he bestowed on Seven was foreboding for its own reason, she presumed, and not because he had any idea that only seconds earlier, she had been kissing the captain and considering carefully whether she should unfasten Kathryn's tunic so she could fondle her breasts.  She shared a glance with Janeway, saw her cheeks grow rosier and looked away quickly before she smiled and upset the commander more than he was.

And it was clear he was very upset.

“Commander?  Is there something wrong?”

Chakotay shot another dark look at Seven before turning his attention to Janeway, handing her a padd.  “We have a problem, Captain.  I’ve just received a complaint from Lt. Torres.  She was accosted by Seven earlier today and she’s spitting mad about it.”

“Accosted? How?”

“Apparently, Seven insulted her, called her a coward and implied she was incompetent.”

“Seven?”

Janeway regarded her with an annoyed expression, not necessarily because she may have upset B’Elanna, Seven knew…she had always been upsetting B’Elanna in this time period…but because she had not been subtle enough to keep attention from being turned to her.

“What I said was not insulting,” Seven explained coolly. “Lt. Torres may have been insulted by it, but then she is offended by my very presence so anything I say is, therefore, objectionable to her. In that event, the only way not to insult her would be not to talk to her, which prohibits me from doing my duty to the ship, as well as preventing her from being efficient in her functionality.”

Chakotay blinked, momentarily taken aback, while Janeway eyed Seven warily.  Then she looked at the first officer.  “Chakotay, I’ll talk to her.”

“Thank you, Captain, but I’m responsible for the crew interaction,” he said stiffly, brows lowering formidably. He shifted his dark gaze to Seven, his features stern.  “I would like to see you in my office after your duty shift.  We need to disc----“

“Commander, I will handle this,” Janeway interrupted in a sharper tone.  “Thank you, Chakotay, but this is more a matter for the ship’s captain than the first officer.”

Startled, his head came up and his eyes widened at such a departure from protocol, but after a long searching look into Janeway’s unyielding features, he nodded abruptly.  “As you will, Captain.”  He shot a final glare at Seven and left Astrometrics, leaving the women alone once more.  Seven busied herself with the data streaming across her console, aware of Janeway’s eyes on her.

“Seven?”

“Kath---Captain, B’Elanna’s temper at this time is extremely volatile.”

“And of course, you didn’t provoke her in any way.”  Janeway’s tone indicated the opposite, revealing she knew exactly how Seven would have approached her future friend.  Seven hesitated and Janeway let out her breath in an exasperated puff.  “Seven---” she began.

“I am sorry, Captain,” Seven said hastily.  “I may have been… less prudent in my interaction with B’Elanna than I should have been, but I assure you, I did not intend to compromise our situation.”

“You’re not just going to make people suspicious of you, Seven, you’re going to undermine my position as well if I have to keep protecting you. Particularly from Chakotay.”

Seven hung her head sheepishly.  “I know, Kathryn.  I am sorry.”

Janeway started to say something else, paused, and visibly relaxed her shoulders.  “Well, no harm done, I guess, though he's really starting to believe I have a gigantic blind spot when it comes to you.”

Seven tilted her head sideways and gazed at her through lowered lashes, a look she knew Janeway found tremendously hard to resist.  “Haven’t you always?”

Janeway’s lips tightened but there was the smallest spark of humor in her eyes.  “I doubt it was this extensive when you first came on board Voyager.  I know I still possessed a certain level of objectivity when it came to you, even if I won’t in the future.”

“Chakotay does not like me.”

“He’s merely suspicious of your background.  You know he’ll come to be like an older brother to you.”

“On the contrary, that is how he will become with you, though at the moment, he is still harboring certain aspirations.”

Janeway frowned, looking vaguely puzzled.  “Aspirations?”

“He would like to copulate with you.”  Seven made a small face of distaste.  “Undoubtedly in a most unsatisfactory manner, but nonetheless, he wishes to---”

“Seven!”  Janeway stared at her and her expression indicated that she wasn’t sure if she should be outraged or amused.

Seven lifted an eyebrow.  “You know it is true.”

“On the contrary, I don’t know that at all and neither do you.  Isn’t it enough that you’ll punch him out in the near future out of such baseless suspicions?”

Seven contemplated that.  She had not exactly forgotten the encounter---her cortical node processed and retained all her life experiences with varying degree of detail---but it hadn’t been at the forefront of her memory.  “Perhaps I should punch him now,” she suggested in her most reasonable tone.  “It would save me from having to do it later.”

Janeway laughed, a sort of rueful chuckle that pleased Seven.  She knew that as much as Janeway professed to dislike her displays of jealousy, there was a part of her that was thrilled by them.  “You’ll do no such thing. It’s bad enough when you do it in the future. At least then, you felt you had some kind of a reason, though it won’t be much of one. There's no way you have any justification for it at this point in time.”

“Very well, Kathryn,” Seven said, enjoying the chance to make her captain laugh, though the various past, present and future tenses they were utilizing in their conversation were starting to make her head hurt.  “I shall simply have to look forward to the occasion.”

Janeway smiled and started toward her, undoubtedly to kiss her again, but the opening of the door forestalled it.  Both women looked to see Harry Kim enter for his regularly scheduled duty shift in Astrometrics.  Janeway shot Seven a glance that mixed warmth with disappointment that they wouldn’t have more time together, before nodding at Harry Kim and leaving the room. Seven stifled a sigh and focused her attention on the operations officer.

The expression on his face, ever eager and hopeful, reminded her sharply that she had her own unwanted suitors in this time period.

Cargo Bay Two was dark and dingy as she stepped inside the massive metal doors.  Behind her, Voyager’s night watch dimmed the corridor lights and left few crewmembers about, making it unlikely she would be interrupted.  That was important because she had finally reached her limit.  Three days had passed with no progress in finding a way to return to their own time, and while it had become easier to resume her place here professionally, falling into old habits and protocols, Janeway was finding it much harder to deal with the aching lack of a personal life.  Except for all too brief affectionate exchanges whenever they had the rare opportunity to be alone, she and Seven were forced to remain physically distant.

It was a decided contrast to how she had been acting prior to the temporal incursion.  On Millennium for the past month, she and Seven had been together physically, sharing their quarters, still working together on the bridge and occasionally in the science lab, but emotionally, a chasm had existed that Janeway feared she would never be able to cross.  It bothered her that she had managed to bridge it here with what she considered to be little effort.  She should have been able to put forth that effort on Millennium, though she did allow that a crisis tended to put things into perspective very quickly.  Perhaps perspective had been all she was lacking in the future, the hurt too close, while here on Voyager, it was easier to remember how much she loved and needed Seven.

There was a greenish tinge to the illumination here, tainted by the sickly emerald light emanating from the Borg alcoves lining one wall.  She sealed the doors behind her with a priority command and walked slowly across the deck toward the dais where Seven stood, clamped in the cold, metallic embrace of her regeneration cubical.

How many times had she come down here to watch her regenerate, with Seven never knowing she had been there, though she always claimed she had.  Perhaps there was some kind of monitoring equipment that recorded her visits, allowing Seven to know just how truly pathetic the lonely captain had been.  Janeway smiled crookedly, stepping up onto the console where her hand hovered over the controls that would terminate the regeneration sequence.  She hesitated, wondering if there was another way to bring Seven out of her unconsciousness.

After all, Janeway considered wryly, she could always use the controls later if what she had in mind didn’t work.  Moving around the console, she stepped onto the alcove base and positioned herself in front of Seven, pressing lightly against the statuesque form.  Placing her hands lightly on Seven’s waist, Janeway could feel the hard bands of her abdominal implant through the fine mesh material of the biosuit.  By standing on tiptoe and inching her way up Seven's generous chest, she was able to place her lips over Seven's full mouth.

For long moments, there was no response from Seven's rigid body as Janeway kissed her and the captain was actually starting to feel silly before the heavy arms of the cubical abruptly released with a soft hiss of escaping gases. From above, the computer’s voice stated in a slightly peevish tone; “Regeneration sequence is not complete.”

A soft sigh issued from Seven’s lips that became responsive to the kisses, and her arms came up to surround Janeway, pulling her close. Her head lowered, allowing Janeway to ease off her uncomfortable position and lean into the warm body and embrace, feeling as if she’d come home in some odd way.

“Kathryn.”  The name was a quiet murmur, more a confirmation that all was right with the universe rather than the identification of who was in her arms.

Janeway laughed throatily.  “Were you expecting someone else?”

“In this time period, I would be afraid to imagine who it could possibly be.”  Seven kissed her back, a wonderful, openly desirous exchange.  “What are you doing here?”

“I missed you so much,” Janeway explained in a whisper.  “I couldn’t sleep and finally, I just had to come down here.”  She nestled into the strong arms, feeling protected and nurtured.  “I sealed the door. It’s about 0200 hours.  No one’s going to bother us.”

Seven laughed, a quiet, knowing sound of amusement and affection.  “We have tried to make love in a Borg cubical before.  It was quite unsuccessful.”

“Surely there must be a way to do this,” Janeway teased gently.  “Where’s all that vaunted Borg ingenuity?”

Seven kissed her again, tongue slipping out to touch Janeway’s lips, then parting them to explore her mouth thoroughly, searing in the eagerness to taste her.  “I believe I know a way.”

“Hmm, that was quick.”

“I am inspired.”

“You’re certainly inspiring,” Janeway assured her, slipping her hands around Seven’s back, over her hips and down her buttocks, cupping and squeezing provocatively as she pulled Seven’s groin to her own.  Desire flared hotly in the lower part of her abdomen, spreading through her like molten gold, pooling at the juncture of her legs. She couldn’t remember ever wanting Seven more, despite all the love and passion that had flowed between them over the years.  Seven seemed to sense it, or perhaps she was feeling the same because she kissed her fiercely, hands roaming freely over Janeway, loosening the uniform tunic.

“Uh, darling?”

“Yes, I know.”  Reluctantly Seven loosened her embrace.  “Come with me.” Her voice was unusually hoarse, shaking a bit from emotion as she guided Janeway off the base of the alcove and over to the supply shelves.  Reaching up, she accessed a container, opening it to reveal several small packages that Janeway recognized immediately.

“Oh, clever girl,” she complimented.

Seven flashed a smile as she placed the expandable mattress on the deck. Standard away mission issue, it only took a touch of the button to activate the internal pump, which began filling the padded sack with foam.  Within a few seconds, it had finished, leaving a double sized mattress that Janeway knew from experience wasn’t the most comfortable, but was still more than adequate for the purpose they intended.  Janeway searched the shelves, found some thermal blankets and pillows and tossed them over to Seven who promptly finished making up the bed.  By the time she was done, Janeway could barely breathe from the anticipation and desire raging through her.

Seven turned to her, lissome in the lowered illumination, her eyes wide and incredibly blue.  Janeway smiled, feeling as if every nerve ending on her body were alive and acutely sensitive.  “Hey,” she said softly.

Seven's eyes looked her up and down, burning in their intensity.  “Though this is not the first time we have made love on an away mission issued mattress, I do not believe we have ever made love in Cargo Bay two.”

“Well, there’s a first time for everything, love.  If nothing else, at least we have the opportunity to cross that off the list now…before you even have a list.”

“Please, no more temporal discussion,” Seven begged.

Janeway chuckled and then, as Seven lifted her hand in supplication, she grasped the long fingers and allowed Seven to pull her to her, their bodies fitting together with aching familiarity.  Janeway inhaled sharply as Seven kissed her, a deeply passionate kiss that curled her toes, and her fingers went unerringly to the back of the long, leonine neck.  It had been awhile since Seven had worn the biomesh suits she had needed after becoming a member of Voyager, but some things were not easily forgotten, like how manipulating just so released the seam down the back, allowing the clinging material to lose cohesion.  The outfit slipped easily from Seven’s shoulders and Janeway was able to pull it down, leaving Seven bare from the waist up.  Janeway’s breath caught at the sight of those full and lovely breasts, and then caught again when she saw the scarred tissue beneath the bands of the abdominal implant.  She hadn’t forgotten how much the Borg had damaged Seven, but it had been awhile since she’d had such a stark reminder.  It made her heart ache, filling her with the searing need to protect her and knowing there was no way she could.

Seven sensed her hesitation and her face darkened.  She pulled back, cringing a little and Janeway looked up to meet her eyes, concern instantly replacing desire.  “Annika?”

“My implant.” Seven’s voice was very low as she gestured toward her abdomen. Her face was twisted uncomfortably. “It repulses you.”

“Oh, darling.”  Janeway traced gentle lines over the metal ridges bracketing her spouse’s stomach, moving close and dipping her head to kiss the small starburst marring Seven’s collarbone.  “You know that’s not true.  You’re so beautiful, in all ways and form.  Don’t ever doubt that.  This only bothers me because I know what hurt it represents, not because of how it looks.  In fact, the only thing I really have against this particular implant is the medical problems it’s going to cause you in the future.”  She paused, struck by a thought.  “Oh, god, sweetheart.  I know you don’t have as much sensitivity right now as you will once the Doctor regenerates your nerve endings.”

Seven visibly relaxed.  “I will adapt.”

Janeway reached up and cupped Seven’s face, palm warm on the smooth skin, fingertips lightly stroking the curve of her ocular implant. Searching the pale blue eyes, she finally smiled with sensual warmth. “I’m sure you will, and you know, darling, if we do have to live this all over again, I won’t mind because every moment with you on Voyager, and on Earth and on Millennium, was an absolute joy, even if I didn’t fully appreciate it at the time. I certainly will now, and if we don’t manage to live it in quite the same way because of our experience and knowledge of each other, then it will still be the greatest time of my life because you’ll be a part of it.”

Seven pulled her close, inhaling her fragrance.  “I love you, Kathryn, my captain, my One of One, always and forever.  There will never be another, I swear to you.”

And Janeway believed it, with every iota of her being.

She pushed the biosuit the rest of the way over Seven’s hips and down her long legs, supporting her as she stepped out of the ridiculously high heeled boots that were part of the outfit.  As Seven reclined on the mattress, Janeway hastily stripped off her uniform, leaving it crumpled on the deck, and joined her lover on the yielding surface.  She groaned as she pressed her body against Seven’s, the warmth and silky smoothness of her skin almost too delightful to bear.  Even the sharp edge of implant and the roughness of scar tissue were inviting to the touch because it was all part of Seven and Janeway loved her completely.

“Kathryn.”  Seven’s whisper was hot in her ear.  “I have missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you, too, darling,” Janeway murmured, hands roaming freely over her, exploring areas that were different on this form and thus, were new once more to her questing fingertips.  “I’m sorry I was such a fool.”

“We were both fools,” Seven told her.  “No longer.”

Janeway didn’t have anything to add to that.  She didn’t want to add anything to that.  All she wanted was to make love with Seven, to lose herself in her body and scent and taste…to be back where she belonged even if it wasn’t when she belonged. Cupping Seven’s full breasts in her hands, she squeezed lovingly as she dipped her head to cover one rosy nipple with her lips, tickling it into sensation with the tip of her tongue.  Soft sounds of pleasure issued from Seven’s lips, her body quivering under Janeway’s touch, almost helpless in her arousal.

Janeway hummed happily as she drifted down the sinewy torso, stroking the flesh between the soft gray bands, kissing along the main brace to just above the apex of those long, glorious legs.  She nuzzled the brief thatch of blonde hair affectionately, then settled between Seven’s thighs, leaning in greedily for that first wonderful taste.

Seven had changed over the years, she discovered with mild surprise.  Initially, she had been almost flavorless, very little existing beyond the light saltiness.  Later, she would become muskier, more womanly, deepening in both flavor and texture.  This body was still virgin territory, Janeway realized suddenly, and that thought thrilled her down to the very core of her being.

It also took much longer for Seven to reach her peak.  Unlike the past, when the first sensations had been so overwhelming and irresistible to her, this Seven of mingled past and future needed far more stimulation to overcome her numbed nerve endings, a higher intensity in manipulation to raise her to the peak.  Janeway was more than prepared to meet the challenge, utilizing every trick and caress in her inventory and a few she invented right on the spot. When Seven finally climaxed, it was profoundly intense, perhaps because she had hovered on the edge for so long. Though the closing of thighs about Janeway’s head, the convulsions of the strong body beneath her, gave the captain a real moment of concern that Seven would forget there was a mere human presence providing this delight.

Fortunately, Seven was able to restrain her physical response from being too enthusiastic, much to Janeway’s relief and continued well-being.  Smiling smugly, Janeway climbed up the lengthy body to Seven’s mouth where she kissed her deeply, wanting nothing more than to immerse herself completely in her lover.

“Kathryn.” Seven exhaled slowly.

“Hmm, I’m here, darling.”

“That was…significant.”

Janeway laughed quietly.  “I’m glad.  You deserved something ‘significant’ after all we’ve been through.”

Seven’s pale eyes searched Janeway’s face.  “I love you.”

“Oh, god, I love you, too.”  She kissed her again, more tenderly, reining in the desire that seared through her because for the moment, she just wanted to show how much she cared. “I beyond love you.You’re my heart, Seven of Mine.”
Seven smiled at the pet name and pulled her close.  “My Kathryn.”

And for the next hour or so, she managed a quite significant effort of her own while pleasuring her captain beyond all thought and reason.

Seven opened her eyes and knew immediately that she was back on Millennium.  It wasn’t just the physical, subliminal clues like scent and sound, which she had never really noticed until it had been changed, but an internal, intensely visceral feeling that things were once again right where they had been wrong.  Startled, she rose to her left elbow and looked down at the sleeping form in the bed beside her.  The last thing she remembered was settling into her alcove after they had cleaned up Cargo Bay Two, removing all traces of their illicit encounter.  Janeway had left to go back to her quarters, the couple not daring to fall asleep together as much as they wanted to do so. She reached over and touched Janeway on her shoulder, shaking her gently.  “Kathryn.”

Janeway made a soft sound, half protest, half sensual anticipation, the combination making Seven smile.  She waited as Janeway forced her eyelids open, bluish-gray eyes clouded with sleep before finally focusing on the woman in bed with her.

“Annika?”

“We’re back.”

“What?”  Janeway sat bolt upright and stared around wildly.  “How the hell did that happen?”

“Unknown.”

Janeway shot her a look and then rolled out of bed where she grabbed her robe, pulling it on over a slate-blue t-shirt.  The same one, Seven noted, that she had worn the night she had come to bed.  It was not a coincidence.  They discovered after a thorough check with the ship’s computer that they had been returned either at the same instant that they had left or very shortly after.  There was no indication that anyone knew they had gone, nor was there any trace picked up by the ship’s sensors of their temporal shift.  Tricorder scans detected no physical evidence in their bodies, their surroundings or the space around them to indicate anything had occurred.

“What’s going on here?”  Janeway’s voice was full of bafflement as she paced about their living quarters.  Seven, seated at her work console, shook her head.

“I do not know, Kathryn.  For all intents and purposes, it did not happen.”

Janeway stopped, turning to face her.  “But it did happen.  It wasn’t a hallucination.  You and I just spent four days in the past.”

“I believe we did,” Seven agreed quietly, “but there is no evidence to verify it.  Nor does either of us remember losing four days during that time.  Did our past selves indeed return with no loss of time, removing those four days from the space/time continuum?  Did that particular incursion slip aside to form a temporal eddy?”

“Temporal eddy?”

“A loop of time that does not connect with any specific time line.  It happened, yet did not, isolated from the space/time continuum by its limited existence.  I studied such theory while working with Leah Brahms at TPG, but there is no way to prove it beyond offering up the theory itself.”

Janeway brought her hands to her head, clutching at her auburn hair.  “God, I hate temporal mechanics!”  Her tone was a mix of dismay and sheer exasperation.  “What purpose would there be for such a thing?”

“Does every circumstance require a purpose, Kathryn?”

Janeway’s bluish gaze met hers, startled.  “That doesn’t sound like you.  You resent an effect existing without apparent cause.”

Seven let out her breath slowly. “Yes, but in this case, it is enough to know what we gained from it.”  She lifted an eyebrow as a sudden thought struck her.  “Perhaps that was the purpose; for us to have time together alone to regain our relationship.”

Janeway considered that, a skeptical expression on her face.  “I sincerely doubt the universe works that way, Annika.”

“Then we must consider it an aberration, a temporal anomaly without cause or effect beyond our personal benefit.”

“A matter of us being in the wrong place and the wrong time, the two of us encountering a temporal rift that looped in on itself?  And spit us out after four days?”  Janeway shook her head.  “I find that hard to believe, and I can’t think of anyone else who would believe it, either.”

Seven considered it for a long moment, assessing all the possible permeations that she could.  “What do you wish to do, Kathryn?” she asked finally, in her most reasonable tone.  “Shall we concentrate all the efforts of Millennium’s science section on researching it, without any tangible evidence of any kind, hoping to discover what exactly happened?”

Janeway put her hands on her hips, brows lowering as she regarded Seven.  “Of course not, it would be ridiculous to tie up all our resources that way.  But if we don’t know what exactly happened, or why or how, then it could happen again.”

“Perhaps.  Yet, without any scientific data beyond our belief that it happened, there is little chance of discovering anything, nor any way to prevent it from happening again.”

Janeway hesitated, a furrow in her brow indicating deep thought.  “Tuvok might remember what happened.  He was suspicious while we were there and I told him it was a matter of the Temporal Prime Directive.  If he remembers that…”

“And if he does not?”

A quick shake of Janeway's head dismissed that as she went over to the computer.  “I also had an encounter with Ro that she might remember. I’ll talk with her in the morning and in the meantime, I’ll draft a communication to Tuvok.  We can discover what they might know, at least.  If they do, then maybe we’ll have a point in which to start.”

Seven knew Janeway hated to let go of anything lacking a scientific explanation, even if the explanation was so beyond the realm of their current reality, it might as well be magic.  Usually, she was very much of the same mind, but in this instance, she was content with the result and lacked interest in the cause.  Perhaps, over time, Janeway would as well.

She waited as Janeway constructed a communiqué.  It would be sent with the rest of the communications packet that would be transmitted through the array constructed in Confederation space and relayed to the Federation.  It would take a few days…or weeks, depending on where Tuvok was currently deployed…but he would offer some response.

“Kathryn?”

Janeway, who had been sitting at her work console, chin in hand, staring at the screen without actually seeing it, looked over at Seven.  “Yes?”

“Come back to bed with me.”

A smile spread over Janeway’s face and her eyes lightened perceptibly.

“Unless you have something better to do,” Seven added with a touch of dryness in her tone.

“Oh no, my love, not a single thing.”  Janeway rose from her seat and crossed the room to where Seven waited, slipping her arms around her waist and kissing her throat.

Seven wrapped her up in a strong embrace, dipping her head to kiss her with measured force.  “Physically, I enjoy who I am now far more than who I was.”

Janeway’s mouth was avid beneath her lips, hungrily returning her kiss.  “I suppose you would, darling, but in whatever form we’re in, know that I completely adore you and want you with every beat of my heart.”

Seven decided that was the perfect invitation to sweep her spouse up into her arms, hearing the little squeak of surprise and pleasure that accompanied the wiry arms slipping around her neck and the warm lips nuzzling her ear.  Smiling faintly, she carried Janeway into the bedroom and deposited her gently onto the bed before she straightened and slipped out of her robe, letting it fall to the floor.  She felt a sort of possessive pleasure as she looked down at Janeway who was reclining on her elbows, regarding her with sensual intent.

“Come here.”

Amused that the captain still felt she was in charge, Seven crawled onto the bed, looming over the smaller form of her spouse.  Janeway’s eyes narrowed as Seven straddled her hips, then went wide with astonishment as Seven calmly and easily ripped away the robe and t-shirt.  The tattered remains were tossed over her shoulder, leaving Janeway naked beneath her.

“That was my favorite robe,” she protested mildly once she had caught her breath.

“I shall replicate you another.”

Casually, she grasped Janeway’s wrists and pinned them above her head, holding her down.  From the flare of her nostrils and the way her respiration increased, Seven knew this was arousing Janeway, which had been her purpose all along.

“What are you going to do?”

“Make you mine once more,” Seven said, bending down to kiss her with forceful intent.

Janeway laughed huskily.  “I was always yours, darling.”

“Perhaps,” Seven allowed as she nipped lightly at her neck.  “But I have not felt that recently.”

They kissed again, hotly, a slow, deeply passionate kiss.  “Then take me, darling,” Janeway whispered, her breath warm against Seven’s lips.  “Know it in your heart and body as much as you already do in your mind.”

Never losing grip on her wrists, she eased her elbows under Janeway's shoulders so that Seven could support the greater part of her weight on them. Stretching out the rest of her body on Janeway’s, she pressed down lightly to feel the soft, yielding curves against her own.  Janeway moaned softly, spreading her legs to cushion Seven’s hips, heaving gently beneath her.  Aroused by the motion, Seven readjusted her grip so that she had both of Janeway’s wrists in her left hand.  The choice of appendages let Janeway know she was serious about keeping her pinned.  The unyielding metal of Borg mesh could slice through flesh if one wasn’t careful, and Janeway would not struggle against it.  If it had been Seven’s right, all humanoid hand, Janeway would take that to mean she could resist all she wanted and would do so quite cheerfully...because resisting the Borg was one of her absolute favorite things to do.  Seven slowed her pace, well in control and determined to enjoy every second of this encounter.

Janeway growled.  “Damn it, take what’s yours already.”

Startled, Seven laughed softly and undulated teasingly on her.  “Patience.  We have all the time required.”

“We have two hours before we have to report for duty,” Janeway corrected.  “You have no time to waste.”

“We have time, Kathryn,” Seven insisted and kissed her again, focusing all her concentration on it.  By the time she was done, Janeway had no objections left, at least, none that she could formulate coherently.  She did have a few practical suggestions, phrased in the most inelegant and profane manner.

“I fear you shall have to settle for only one or two of those recommendations, Kathryn,” Seven told her with gentle humor. “I will utilize the rest of them after our duty shifts.”

Her breath coming quickly, Janeway gazed up at her, eyes lidded in pleasure.  “Has anyone ever told you that you have a sadistic streak?”

Seven ran her hand over the stomach beneath her, stroking luxuriously through the thin triangle of auburn hair and to the crease that was seeping moisture.  Her fingertips slipped easily over the firm little ridge, manipulating it mercilessly.

“Frequently.  But only by you.”

“God, go inside.”

Seven hesitated and then complied, deciding that she had made Janeway wait long enough.  Carefully, she slipped inside, the slick, inner walls closing tightly about her fingers, lovely and warm as she flexed and thrust within her.  Janeway arched, fighting the grip on her wrists, not because she wanted it released, Seven knew, but because the sensation was so intense she could not help but struggle against it.  Increasing her caress, Seven utilized her thumb now, flicking it over Janeway in a steady, unrelenting rhythm.  Janeway cried out, unable to resist the loving assault, and then bucked sharply under Seven as climax overtook her, shaking her thoroughly.

Seven had covered her mouth in that perfect instance before her peak, kissing her deeply as she guided her through it, prolonging it until she knew it was verging on the uncomfortable.  Only then did she slowly release Janeway, feeling her relax beneath her, nuzzling her with quiet affection.

“Amazing,” Janeway whispered.  “Simply amazing.  They say makeup sex is the best.  I guess they’re right.”

Seven lifted an eyebrow.  “Who is ‘they’?”

“I’m not sure, but they sure knew what they were talking about.”

Smiling faintly, Seven kissed her again and released her wrists, settling onto her side so that she could look down at Janeway.  The captain gazed back, an expression of pure and simple satisfaction on her face.

“I suppose you want something now?”

“Could I stop you from giving it to me?”  Seven was honestly curious.
Janeway made an abrupt move, rolling over onto Seven, pressing her back onto the bed.
“No,” she said.  “You absolutely couldn’t. Not in the past, not now and certainly not in the future."

The Nexus was hopping, filled with members of the alpha and gamma shifts out for a thoroughly good time.  Ro knew the party would go on long enough for the beta shift to have some fun as well, once they logged off duty.  At the largest table, set in front of high viewports that displayed passing stars distorted by a warpfield, Seven sat surrounded by presents and friends, thoroughly enjoying her ‘surprise’ birthday party.
“She looks so happy."
Startled, Ro glanced over to see the captain had somehow materialized next to her from the crowd.  “She does,” she agreed, taking a sip from her glass of Bajoran spring wine.  She hesitated, studying the classic features beside her.  “Something happened, something more than just a temporal displacement, Cap---Kathryn.”

Janeway smiled, a sort of peaceful, calm expression of happiness that hadn’t been there for several weeks.  “Let’s just say we managed to work a few things out.”

“Being on your own will allow you to do that.”  Ro wondered if she should tell the captain about B’Elanna’s suggestion to send the couple off in a malfunctioning shuttle and decided not to do so. After all, they might have need of the plan sometime in the future.  No marriage ran perfectly smoothly, after all, not even Janeway and Seven’s.  “Captain, are you sure you don’t want any further investigation into your incursion?”

Janeway shook her head.  “It’s not necessary, Commander.  Seven and Dr. Kahn have run extensive scans with equipment far more advanced than Voyager’s, and there’s simply no data available to investigate.  Not even temporal traces in our bodies because our bodies didn’t transport, only our consciousness did. At this point, it would just waste time and resources better spent on other research.”

“You know, I don’t remember you ever confronting me as Ara Lerona.  I think that would have been a significant memory for me.  I guess it didn’t happen, at least in this timeline.”

Janeway smiled.  “In any event, what’s done is done and it’s time to move on.  If it ever happens again, then we’ll take it from there.”  She tilted her head slightly as she regarded her spouse across the room.  “It was very nice of B’Elanna to do this for Seven.  I’m afraid I lost track of the date again.” Her expression was a touch wistful.

“Well, it was something B’Elanna felt she had to do,” Ro responded in a noncommittal tone and tried not to wince.  There may have been a certain inflection in her voice, however, because Janeway shot her an odd look, but fortunately, she didn’t say anything.

Instead, she inclined her head toward B’Elanna who was helping Seven open the next gift.  “Your wife seems very happy, as well.  Is there news on that front?”

Astonished, Ro turned to face Janeway, searching her face to see if she really knew something, if she were guessing, or if her comment was merely innocuous and taken as something more because Ro was sensitive about it.  Janeway returned her look blandly, so blandly that Ro was sure she knew something.

“What sort of news?”  Ro asked the question warily.

“Oh, the type that would undoubtedly make others happy as well, once you choose to announce it of course.”

“Prophets, how did you know?”  Ro stared at her in mixed outrage and admiration.

Janeway smiled broadly, looking down into her whiskey and soda.  “Honestly, Laren, are you truly unaware of the range of Seven’s implants?  She easily picked up on the second heartbeat once it became viable.  Besides, you know Seven’s been waiting on this ever since you told her you two were planning on starting a family.  I think she scanned B’Elanna once a day.”

“Seven picked up a heartbeat?  But B’Elanna’s only three weeks along!”

“Klingons do gestate much quicker than Bajorans, Laren,” Janeway reassured her, somehow detecting her sudden panic.  She patted her lightly on the forearm.  “Their pregnancy only lasts thirty weeks.”

Ro stared at her.  “How do you know that?”

Janeway managed to look a little bashful.  “When Seven researches something, she does so quite thoroughly, and I’m afraid I tend to pick up little bits of trivia here and there.”

“There are no bloody secrets on a starship, are there?" Ro shook her head grumpily. "Did she let B’Elanna know she knew?”

“I think she’s waiting for B’Elanna to tell her.  It's her news, after all.”

“Yeah, well, B’Elanna’s holding off on announcing anything until she’s sure everything will be all right. There are certain risks with a hybrid melding.”

Janeway blinked, suddenly looking sober.  “Of course.  I hadn’t thought of that. Is everything all right?”

“So far.  B’Elanna just wants to be a little further along.”

“I understand.  I’ll let Seven know so she doesn’t become impatient and force the issue.”  Janeway caught the expression on Ro’s face and held up a hand.  “Yes, I know, Seven’s the most patient person around, but not when it comes to this.  She can’t wait to play ‘Auntie Seven’ to your little one.”

“Why not one of your own?”  Janeway didn’t have to be the only one to poke her nose into a person’s personal business, Ro decided acerbically.

Janeway took a small sip from her drink, obviously taking a moment before deciding to answer that or not.  “It’s Seven’s call.  When she’s ready, I’m ready.  To be completely honest, I think she’s waiting to see how well the two of you handle parenthood on a starship.  That way she can decide if we’re adaptable enough to take that step.”

Ro grinned evilly.  “You’ll really get on well with your next hotshot baby exec with a belly stuck out in front of you and fat ankles.”

The look Janeway offered Ro then was suitable payback for the prying nature the captain apparently thought she was entitled to along with her rank.  A loud outcry from Seven’s table forestalled what else she might have said and Ro smiled quietly to herself as she followed Janeway over to where Seven had just unwrapped a gift to reveal a statue.  It generated a universal loathing from the group at the table, a quiet “Oh, god” from the captain and a delighted smile from Seven.

“Who gave you that, darling?” Janeway asked, a little too brightly, Ro thought.

“Kes and Tom Paris.  It is beautiful.”

The crowd managed to contain their snickers as Janeway shot an absolutely poisonous look at the ship’s navigator and counselor.  Tom ducked playfully while Kes smiled serenely.

“I knew she would love it the moment we laid eyes on it, Captain.”

“Once we had finished going blind, of course,” Tom added almost inaudibly.

Ro had to laugh at that, and laughed harder when Janeway fixed her with an ‘et tu’ look of disgust. Shaking her head, Janeway went over to join her wife, subtly displacing Lenara Kahn who immediately got up and moved over as soon as she saw the captain heading toward her.  Ro smiled down into her wine and when she looked up, B’Elanna had joined her.

“Your party is a success, love.  Well done.”

B’Elanna slipped her hand into Ro’s and squeezed lightly.  “It had to come off well,” she admitted sheepishly. “I did get myself into this mess, after all.”

Ro chuckled and leaned over, kissing her on the temple.  “Seven and Janeway know.”

“Know what?”

“About our little addition.”

B’Elanna turned wounded eyes on her.  “You told them?”

“No, Janeway told me. Apparently Seven’s been keeping a Borg enhanced eye on you since you told her we were thinking about starting a family.  I bet she knew before we did.”

“Kahless, I suppose I should confirm things to her before she busts an implant or something.”

Ro slipped her arm around B’Elanna’s shoulders and hugged her.  “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, my mate.  When you’re ready, the rest of us will be, too.”

B’Elanna smiled, showing sharp-edged teeth and nipped lightly at Ro’s earlobe.  Ro was thankful it she was on her left and not on the side where her Bajoran earring hung. “Come dance with me.”

Ro looked around, found a table and set her wine glass down before letting B’Elanna pull her out onto the dance floor.  Not far away, she took note of her assistant security chief, M'Reek, who was dancing with Kelly and wondered how serious that was becoming.  She knew M’Reek was a serial monogamous.  He was a wonderfully attentive and faithful lover…for the first six months.  Then he had a habit of moving on.  She hoped Kelly knew that.  Janeway and Seven had also taken to the dance floor, and Ro was pleased to see how absorbed they were in each other.  If there had been any lingering doubts about the captain and her spouse, one look at the two of them together would make them disappear.

“So, did you find out what happened to turn things around?”

Ro laughed softly.  “Sorry, no details, just that they managed to work things out when they were displaced in time.”

“I wonder what did happen? It’s such a strange story.”

“You don’t think they made it up?”

“No, of course not.  It’s just…it’s almost as if something sent them back just so they could work it out.”

“What, you mean like ‘Q’ or something?”

“Could Q have done it?”

Ro exhaled, thinking about the omnipotent being who had plagued Picard on occasion and had even encountered Janeway a couple of times. “If he did, and he didn’t want anyone to know, then we’d never know.  But I think if he had anything to do with it, he’d want credit.  He’s not exactly the subtle type.”

“True.  I guess we’ll never know.”

“Not unless something similar comes up in the future,” Ro agreed.  She pulled B’Elanna closer, enjoying the slow music that was playing.  Her hands rested lightly in the small of her back and wickedly, she massaged lightly.  B’Elanna’s head came up and she looked at her with a decided gleam in her dark eyes.

“Why bangwI', do you have something in mind?”

Ro nuzzled her neck, inhaling the musky scent of her olive skin with quiet pleasure.  “Oh, I have many things in mind, mate of mine.”

“Is that anyway for a mother-to-be to act?”  B’Elanna growled playfully in her ear.

The comment struck her like a phaser blast and Ro needed a moment to catch her breath. She wondered how something could feel so terrifying and amazing at the same time, but she supposed she should get used to it.

“Laren?”  B’Elanna was regarding her with an odd expression.

“Sorry, went away for a second.  This is a big deal, us having a child, you know.  It just hits me so often how big it really is.”

“I agree, but we knew it going in.  That’s why we talked about it so much.”  B’Elanna hugged her tightly, her compact form snuggling into Ro’s leaner body.  “We’ll do all right.”

Ro kissed her lightly.  “I know we will.”  She kissed her again, deepening it this time, slipping her tongue out to flick along B’Elanna’s lower lip.  “Want to go back to our quarters?”

“Well, now that the cake’s done and the presents are opened, I guess we can.  No one will miss us.”

Smiling, Ro led her through the crowd, heading for the door.  Just before they reached it, she glanced back to see Janeway and Seven in front of the viewports, the shooting stars making a striking backdrop for their swaying forms locked in a timeless embrace.

Still dancing, still smiling, and still so very much in love with each other.

Just the way it should be, Ro decided.

Epilogue

“What’s this?”
Admiral Nechayev picked up the padd her assistant, Michael Patterson, dropped on her desk and scanned it, frowning as the data was absorbed.  “Where did this come from?”

“The temporal archives.  This one recently became activated and was sent upstairs.”  He took a seat in the chair opposite her.  A ruggedly handsome man, he filled out his uniform with the most interesting musculature.  The thought he was married and so happily to the widow of one of Starfleet’s more respected admirals always gave a mild twinge of regret to Nechayev.  “You see the name that keep popping up?”

Nechayev felt her mouth tighten disapprovingly.  “For someone who claims to hate temporal anomalies so much, she certainly keeps dropping into the middle of them, doesn’t she?”

“Well, this has already happened,” Michael noted in a reasonable tone.

“But it hasn’t happened yet,” Nechayev agreed, feeling the sort of mental ache that came along with discussing temporal mechanics.  “In any event, there’s nothing that can be done until Millennium’s back in the Alpha Quadrant.  That won’t be for a few months.”

“But you’re going to make the arrangements?”

Nechayev lifted her gaze to meet his level eyes.  “I pretty much have to, don’t I?”  The words were bitter in her mouth.  Despite being a career officer, she really hated being forced into doing things, particularly those over which she had no control.  “Don’t worry, Commander, I’ll take care of it.”

He nodded, rising from his chair as he took that as a dismissal.  Nechayev stared dismally at the padd, going over the information one more time.

Why did the Guardian of Forever require Captain Kathryn Janeway’s presence at the specified time in the future?  Requested of Starfleet some forty-six years earlier?
And what could happen to the myriad of timelines if she didn’t make the appointment?

The End

•  This is the 17th installment in the Millennium series.

•  Dedicated to Sazzy for the music vids and to Susan from Texas, who sent me all seven seasons of Voyager on DVD, providing the inspiration for this story.

•  This is not one of my better ones so don't be surprised when I keep coming back to it to re-edit in the future as I post other stories.

•  It was posted to the net on July 15th, 2007.

Parasitic Perplexity
G. L. Dartt

Waiting for the delegation from Wikira Prime to arrive, Janeway took a final glance around the transporter room to make sure Millennium's senior staff was properly turned out. She wasn’t sure why the Wakardi had requested that all the ship’s senior officers be present during this initial conference, but supposed it was to be expected. Most cultures, particularly those new to interstellar space exploration, expected their negotiations to be important enough to warrant the highest ranks. Humans had probably been the same when they first ventured into space, even with the moderating influence of the Vulcans. Though the captain of a Federation starship from a quadrant away, Janeway was authorized to open the negotiations on behalf of the dominant governing body in this region of space. Facilitating this was the presence of Minister Jiidan of the Confederacy Council, who had come along as an observer. A short, fuzzy, vaguely ursine being, he had added a jeweled green sash to his regular outfit that showed up vividly against his golden pelt.

Not far from him, Commander Kelly stood at attention, her dress whites making her look rather distinguished, something Janeway wasn’t used to seeing in her problematic exec. Standing next to her, Ro Laren, the ship’s security chief and first officer in all but name to Janeway, spoke quietly with her two-person security team, making a last minute check of their readiness.

Slouching against one corner of the transporter console, Dr. Pulaski folded her arms over her chest and looked simultaneously bored and annoyed at being required to attend the diplomatic conference. Behind the console, B’Elanna focused on her task, waiting on the word to activate the transporter controls, while beside her, the ship’s chief science officer peered over her shoulder, undoubtedly...and probably deliberately...annoying the volatile Klingon as Seven offered some last minute advice on the best way to perform the upcoming transport.

Janeway’s eyes lingered on Seven of Nine with deep pleasure, thoroughly enjoying the sight of the cool blonde in her full dress whites. She quite looked forward to returning to their quarters once the diplomatic amenities were over so she could remove Seven's uniform in as sensual a manner as possible. Of course, the rough patch they had gone through probably exacerbated how much she wanted and needed her beloved spouse. Janeway felt a clench in the pit of her stomach at the reminder of that dark time.

“Captain, we’re being hailed,” B’Elanna said, interrupting Janeway’s wayward thoughts. “The delegation is prepared to beam up.”

“Do it.” Janeway straightened her shoulders beneath the white tunic trimmed with gold and turned to face the transporter dais. Her senior officers took up position on either side of their captain in the standard greeting formation. As Kelly stood immediately to her right, Janeway could feel Seven move to her left, so aware of her presence that she didn't have to look. Ro remained somewhat apart from the group, standing off to the side, and watching closely as a hum filled the air and sparkles appeared before coalescing into five individual figures.

The Wakardi were a humanoid species in the sense that they boasted the usual number of arms and legs and recognizable sense organs in the appropriate place on their faces.  Distinctive ridges radiated from each corner of their temples and swept upward on a gradual incline to meet at the back of their heads.  Hair grew from beneath these dual ridges, falling to their shoulders, in varying shades of red, brown or blue as per individual, but leaving smooth domed skulls that gleamed faintly in the overhead illumination.  Their eyes were wide and evenly spaced, vibrant yellows and browns with large black pupils that left little white to rim them. Dressed in finely woven tunics and trousers, they all possessed long capes that flowed gracefully around their slender forms, the high collars framing their intellectual features.

Two were female, including the central being who carried a large, ornate wooden box. She handed it to the male beside her and stepped forward, bowing slightly to the group awaiting them.

“Greetings to you all.”  Her tone was low and laced with musical intonations. A pleasant, well modulated voice, Janeway determined, crucial to a female in her position as head of the delegation.  “I am Speaker Heirra, lead member of the Wakardi.”

Janeway stepped forward and also bowed slightly, matching the mannerism offered.  “I am Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation starship Millennium.”  She turned and as if on cue, Jiidan moved forward. Despite his cute and cuddly appearance, he was an experienced and formidable diplomat. “This is Minister Jiidan of the Confederacy.”

“We welcome you to our hearth,” he said in his somewhat squeaky tone.  Janeway resisted an urge to smile. The Soularri undoubtedly appeared quite unthreatening to the Wakardi…a very useful advantage to the technologically advanced species that were the true powerbrokers in the United Confederation despite the presence of other, more physically imposing races.

“We know of the Confederacy,” Heirra responded graciously, bowing to Jiidan. “We are very interested in discussing future ties with your government.”  She looked around with a somewhat evaluating expression. “Is this your entire senior staff, Captain Janeway?”

Janeway felt a small fissure of something resonate through her, though she wasn’t sure what or why. Too often, alien body language and intonation inspired instinctive emotions from Humans that could easily be misconstrued and thus, held no place in a diplomatic exchange. Still, she exchanged a glance with Ro, relieved when she saw that the security chief had also noticed it, confirming it with a slight nod to the captain. Confident that she could leave whatever it was with Ro, Janeway refocused her attention on the delegation.

“May I present my first officer, Kiara Kelly.”  Kelly inclined her head respectfully. “Beside her is our Chief Medical Officer, Dr. Kate Pulaski, and on my other side is the head of our science department, Lt. Annika Hansen.”  Seven’s ocular implant lifted slightly as she dipped her head in acknowledgment of the introduction.  “At the transporter controls is my chief engineer, Commander B’Elanna Torres, and finally, our chief of security, Commander Ro Laren.”  She didn’t acknowledge the two security guards, D’vor and Decker, flanking the door and Heirra affected not to notice them.

“A multi-species crew, Captain, I am most impressed.” Heirra frowned slightly. “Yet, it is an all female command structure?”

Janeway blinked and suddenly realized what it must look like to the Speaker.  “I assure you, we in the Federation and Starfleet hold no gender bias,” she explained with a smile. “I recruited the best officers I could find for my senior staff and in this case, they just happened to be female.”

She didn’t mention that she had no control over Kelly being on Millennium. Besides, she reminded herself firmly, her young exec had been improving steadily in both attitude and competence over the past few months.  It wasn’t her fault that Admiral Nechayev had certain motives in assigning personnel to Starfleet’s most advanced and far ranging deep exploration vessel.

“Believe me, males and females hold equal legal and social power in the Federation, regardless of the cultural dictates of the individual species that belong to it.”

“I am…relieved to hear it, Captain.”  Heirra motioned to her companions. "May I present Berrell, my second.”  Berrel nodded but otherwise did not move. He seemed burdened by the box he was holding that, from appearances, seemed rather heavy...though Heirra had wielded it easily.

“Healer Kaleen is the head of our medical sector.”  Kaleen was smaller than the others and possessed a compassionate demeanor. She inspired trust just from her kindly expression, which Janeway supposed was a useful attribute in a doctor. Not that she was used to it in her own, of course. She shot a look at Pulaski who still looked extremely bored by the whole thing.

“Lestiat is the head of our population services.” Janeway didn’t know what that was but suspected it had something to do with security. He had a bulkier build than the others and wore a more ornate belt. The captain suspected it must contain at least a minimum of protective weaponry; though obviously nothing that set off the subtle sensor scans Janeway knew Ro was conducting.

“Lastly, may I introduce Trevarti, our most prominent scientist and leading expert in his field of space relations.”

Trevarti bowed deeply, his bright eyes assessing the Starfleet members with what could only be fascination.  Janeway lifted her arm toward the door in invitation. “We have set aside a conference room for your talks with Minister Jiidan.”

“You and your staff will also be attending these initial talks, will you not?”

Janeway thought she heard a slight anxiety behind the question and, once more, wondered at it. “That can be easily arranged,” she said in a reassuring tone, not missing the sour expression on Pulaski’s face. Obviously the doctor had been hoping that her presence would only be required in the initial greeting in the transporter room. Janeway smiled at her cheerfully and motioned toward the door again, just for her.

“Excellent,” Hierra said. “I would like to know more about the Federation, as well the Confederacy, though I’m not entirely sure how such similar yet apparently large and different governing bodies can exist side by side.”

“That’s because we’re not side by side,” Janeway explained smoothly as she led them out into the corridors and to the turbolifts at the end of the corridor. “The Federation is actually in the Alpha Quadrant, a great distance from the Confederacy. Using a transwarp/slipstream form of propulsion, our engines allow Millennium to ’jump’ several thousand lightyears at a time, though any true space exploration must be done at traditional warp speeds. Years ago, a wormhole facilitated our encounter with the Confederacy purely by accident, granting us the known coordinates to make our jump.”  She didn’t add that the wormhole had initially led from the Delta Quadrant, not wanting to get into the whole explanation of USS Voyager and being lost 70,000 light years from home.

“Fascinating, and you have many ships like this?”

“Millennium is unique,” Seven spoke up behind them before Janeway could prevent it.  “Though there are others in production, no other vessel in Starfleet currently possess our technology.”

Janeway shot a quelling glance over her shoulder at Seven before managing a smile for Hierra. “Scientific exploration is one of the Federation’s priorities.”

“As is making friends,” Jiidan offered.  “We in the Confederacy welcomed the chance to know and become allied with such diverse beings.”

Hierra focused her attention on him, bending her head as they walked together, falling behind the captain who allowed it.  After all, it was the Confederacy that would become the true ally of Wikira Prime, not the Federation other than by proxy.  She glanced over at Kelly who had been walking on Hierra’s other side.

“What are we offering the Wakardi?” she asked in a low voice.  She had left the arrangements of the conference room to Kelly and hoped she wouldn’t be disappointed. “That seems a substantial gift they’re bringing along.”

Kelly looked back at the box Barrell was lugging, her green eyes narrowing.  “The traditional gifts to a first encounter, Captain, which should be more than sufficient an exchange for whatever they have in mind...provided it’s not extremely extravagant, like one of their firstborn or something.”

Janeway lifted a brow at the attempt at humor; perhaps not in the best taste but still somewhat amusing.  She smiled briefly at Kelly, thinking that it had been an effort for the other woman and she needed to reward it.

The main conference room had been prepared with padds, a glass of water and a small gift at each place setting. At one end, a long counter contained various dishes of finger foods under stasis fields, ready for the delegates when they took time for a break. Janeway directed the Wakardi to the starboard side of the conference table while her crew took the other, backs against the large viewports that looked out onto the green and turquoise planet Millennium was orbiting.  Jiidan settled into his place of prominence at one end of the table, directly opposite to where Janeway sat down. Ro took up a position at the captain’s left shoulder after dispatching her security team to positions outside the door. Behind Janeway and Ro was another counter stacked with various containers holding more gifts and examples of possible trade items for the delegates.

Once everyone had settled and the opening comments were finished, Hierra took the box from Berrell and slid it carefully across the table.  “On behalf of the Wakardi, may we present this small token of appreciation to you, Captain Janeway.”

Janeway felt a certain qualm at the gesture, since it should have really been offered to Jiidan, but she lacked a graceful way to get out of it without potentially embarrassing the Wakardi or humiliating Jiidan by making him look powerless. Glancing at the minister, it seemed to her that he was amused rather than offended. Of course, the Soularri was accustomed to and even liked remaining unobtrusively behind the scenes.  She supposed this was just another example of it.

“Thank you, Speaker,” she said with a warm smile and reached for the box.

Suddenly, she heard a small sound to her right.  Distracted, she turned to look at Ro who had a frown marring her brow, and her dark eyes narrowed dangerously as she looked at the box. Blinking, a little annoyed that she was so easily distracted and hoping the delegation didn’t notice, Janeway once more reached for the box, fingertips just brushing the edge when Ro abruptly shouldered her aside.

Janeway tumbled to the deck, banging her elbow soundly and wringing out a startled curse from her lips. Astonished and dismayed, she looked up to see Ro draw a type-one phaser from some hidden pocket of her dress uniform.

Without hesitation, Ro fired directly at the Wakardi delegation across the table.

Seven didn’t quite know what was happening, but her response was instantaneous. She leapt to her feet and seized Ro’s arm in one swift motion, removing the weapon with her other hand. At the same time, almost as if they had planned it, Kelly tackled Ro and threw her against the bulkhead, twisting her arm up behind her back. On the deck, Janeway muttered a startled curse and crawled to her feet amid the sudden chaos that had descended upon the room as Ro’s two security officers burst in through the doors. They were clearly confused and alternated between trying to cover everyone with their phasers and glancing uncertainly at their security chief pinned by the first officer.

“What the hell is going on?” Janeway took a horrified look at the main delegates who were slumped over the table, though, somehow, Trevarti had been missed by Ro’s attack. He was cowering back against the far bulkhead, staring wildly at the Starfleet officers surrounding him.  She bestowed a furious gaze on Ro. “Commander, explain yourself!”

“Don’t open that box, Captain, or you’ll end up just like them.”

While Kelly maintained a grip of steel on Ro, Seven exchanged a glance with Janeway and immediately pulled a tricorder from inside her tunic, scanning the box in question.

“Captain, I am detecting organic material inside.” Seven frowned, troubled by the data she was reading and wondering how it had bypassed the transporter sensors.  “Lifeforms. Six...no seven individual creatures.”

“Captain, take a look at the back of their necks,” Ro said urgently.  Seven was unsure if the hint of strain in her voice was from the hold Kelly had on her or because she desperately needed the captain to believe her.

Janeway’s jaw tightened, but she leaned over and pushed aside the high collar of Heirra’s robe. Seven could hear her breath catch as they all saw the small tube protruding from the base of Heirra’s skull.  “My God.” Janeway straightened, her face tightening into a stone like mask.  “Number One, release Commander Ro. Take these...beings into custody.  And secure that box!”

“Captain Janeway, I must protest!” Trevarti had straightened and offered every indication of being greatly offended.

“I’m sure you must,” Janeway said frostily, “but you see, this isn’t the first time we in the Federation have encountered your species. Specifically, the species currently in control of the bodies of the Wakardi.”  She nodded at Ro who had retrieved the phaser from Seven. “Take them.”

Seven still didn’t understand what was going on but she trusted Janeway implicitly, so she didn’t say anything as Ro and her security team gathered up the delegates, along with the box, and escorted them from the room. Kelly waited until the door had hissed shut behind them before turning to Janeway.

“Captain?”

“Stardate 41775,” Janeway said tightly, resuming her seat at the head of the table.  At the slight nod of her head, the rest also sat down, regarding her with varying degrees of puzzlement and concern.  “Starfleet Headquarters was infiltrated by alien parasites that took over the minds of key senior officers and began to position ships and personnel in preparation for an invasion. Fortunately, the conspiracy was uncovered by Captain Jean Luc Picard of the USS Enterprise and he, along with Commander Riker, were able to burn out the parasites, including a dominate queen that had taken over Dexter Remmick, Admiral Quinn’s aide.”  She paused. “Commander Remmick did not survive though the others were freed of their drone parasites unharmed. Apparently, the ‘drone’ parasites couldn’t function after the destruction of the mother creature and vacated their hosts of their own accord. In truth, one of our mandates while in the Beta Quadrant was not only to cement formal diplomatic ties with the Confederation, but to try to track down the eventual destination of a homing beacon that was transmitted by Remmick before his death. Starfleet believed it to be an area somewhere in the Beta Quadrant.”

Seven went back over her memories that had been assimilated by the Borg from Starfleet officers at Wolf 359, making connections between that and the knowledge accumulated by the greater Collective. “The Borg identify them as Species 075,” she said suddenly, causing Janeway to lift a startled eyebrow.  “They were deemed unsuitable for assimilation due to their requirements for a host form.”

“Plus, I can’t see the Borg liking the competition,” Pulaski broke in dryly. “Don’t they also have a hive mind civilization?”

“An inferior type of communication,” Seven told her with a touch of what might have been arrogance had she paid attention. Across the table, B’Elanna smiled faintly. “Outside of the liquid medium that is their natural habitat, they require their hosts to communicate, unlike the Borg whose thoughts are as one.”

“They manage quite nicely, from what I understand,” B’Elanna said. “How did the Borg encounter them?  Did the Collective invade the Beta Quadrant or did they come to you?”

“Members of Species 075 were assimilated in the Delta Quadrant, along with their host beings, Species 074, which called themselves the Varmuur. All were traveling in a type of ship that the Borg has not encountered before or since, though it was deemed very worthy of assimilation. It was powered by an experimental transwarp unit and was the Borg’s first encounter with the technology. The Collective subsequently improved and perfected the propulsion system to what is currently used by Borg vessels.”

B’Elanna nodded slightly, her dark eyes thoughtful.  “So this Varmuur actually invented the transwarp. Interesting. Perhaps they were testing the transwarp unit in the Beta Quadrant and just ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe that’s how they ended up in the Alpha Quadrant as well.”

“Perhaps.” Seven made some adjustments to her padd. “The data indicate a stasis unit containing the creatures was found next to the wreckage of an unknown type of ship on a planet not far from Federation borders. If the hosts were killed in a crash of some kind, the parasites would have retreated to the box to wait for a new set of hosts, which a Starfleet away team so aptly provided.”  She looked up as the door hissed open and Ro reentered the conference room, taking a seat next to Janeway.  "How did you know the Wakardi delegation had been compromised, Commander?”

“Honestly, I didn’t, other than their unusual insistence on having all the senior staff present,” Ro admitted, after a glance at the captain.  Seven realized this would be more an explanation for Janeway than for the rest of the crew at the table.

“It could have been just a cultural requirement but for some reason, their repeated demand for the complete senior staff’s presence set off alarm bells from the moment they stepped on the ship. Prior to our mission here to the Beta Quadrant, I underwent the usual upgrade to my tactical training at Starfleet, which included a refresher on all the data from the HQ Conspiracy. The ornate decorations on the gift box were familiar and I finally remembered I had seen them in Picard’s command logs pertaining to that incident. I realized I only had seconds to act if my suspicions were correct, and though I risked a court martial by stunning the delegation, the other choice of doing nothing seemed more dangerous.”

“You chose correctly, Commander,” Janeway told her, approval strong in her tone.  “Where’s the box now?”

“Dr. Kahn has taken responsibility for it. As a Trill, she has some familiarity with this type of creature, though I don’t think the parasites are very similar to the symbiots. I did brief her fully on how careful she has to be while examining it.  Some of the log entries showed the creatures in action and apparently they can propel themselves good distances. Once they’re on your person, they’re extremely difficult to dislodge before entering the body via the nearest orifice, usually the mouth.”

Pulaski and B’Elanna winced visibly, while Seven considered the prospect of what had almost happened to them with considerable distaste.  Though she wondered if the creatures could actually infiltrate someone with Borg implants. It was possible her nanoprobes would immediately work to repel the invasion, destroying any parasite as they would any other virus or infection.  It was an intriguing line of inquiry to pursue but not at the moment. She turned her attention on the captain, recognizing from her expression that Janeway was outraged, her eyes a dark, stormy gray.

“They were planning to infect the entire senior staff. From there, it would have been a small matter to take over the ship!”

“The ship would undoubtedly only be the first step, Captain,” Jiidan pointed out, his voice brittle and quite unlike his normal tones. Seven realized he was extremely angry, and perhaps even a little afraid. “I require more information regarding your earlier encounters with these creatures.”

“Of course.”  Janeway glanced at Seven who promptly downloaded the required information from the ship’s computer into her padd and passed it down to the Soularri minister. As she did, she noticed the others had also updated their padds and were busily bringing themselves up to speed on the available data, particularly Kelly who had probably still been a child when the attempted invasion of the Federation occurred.

“What now, Captain?” Kelly asked as she scanned the data. “If the official delegation is infected, then we can expect that the entire planet is compromised.”

Seven took note of Janeway’s expression, the tightening around her eyes, the taut set of her mouth, the way her jaw moved slightly, as if she tasted something unpleasant.  “You’re quite right, Number One.”  She lifted her chin and touched the golden comm badge resting on her left breast.  “Helm, break orbit and take up station keeping on the outer rim of the system.”

“The Wakardi will probably object to our taking off with their delegation,” Pulaski said dryly. “The parasites may even realize they’ve been discovered.”

“Probably,” Janeway agreed, “but there’s little they can do about it.  The Wakardi vessels lack the capability to chase us down or engage us in battle with any hope of success. The creatures appear limited to the technology of their hosts.”

“You are assuming this is the only planet involved,” Seven said in the pragmatic tone she utilized whenever she imparted unpleasant information to her captain.  “It is possible this is merely the farthest they have dispersed in this direction, and every planet along any future path we take may also be infected.”

“And some of those planets may possess a higher level of technology,” B’Elanna added.  “Technology that could be on the way here very shortly if the Wakardi parasites can communicate with others of their kind.”

“Perhaps we should simply return the delegation and withdraw from the area,” Ro suggested.

“Leave the Wakardi to the mercy of the parasites?”  Janeway frowned.  “I don’t like that idea, Commander.”

Seven frowned, uncomfortable with where the captain’s thoughts might be leading. She was all too familiar with that tone, reminded sharply of an encounter with the Borg during their first year mission to the Delta Quadrant. She ended up having to go onto a Borg sphere and altering their computer’s memory banks in an effort to make the Collective think they had already assimilated a planet before they actually did.

“It may be our only option,” she interjected firmly. “They may infect all the Wakardi, and I know of no way to remove parasites from millions of individuals. It is impossible to unassimilate an entire planet.”

Kelly’s green eyes were bright.  “We might not have to,” she said. “Federation scientists speculate that it’s the mother creatures who actually lead each individual colony. Without the queen directing them, the others voluntarily leave their hosts and die. Get rid of the queen, and you'll get rid of the drones spawned by that queen.”

“But a mother creature can't be removed,” Pulaski protested strongly. “According to this, the only way to get rid of a queen is to burn it out...which kills the host.”

“The host is already dead,” Kelly argued. “I don’t think there was anything left of this Commander Remmick by the time that thing got through with him. Did you see how big it was?”

From the heat in the various voices, Seven concluded the senior staff had viewed the logs recording the final encounter where Picard and Riker confronted Remmick. It was fortunate that Starfleet Headquarters maintained monitors in all their communications rooms, or they would have lacked even that limited amount of data regarding the creature. The devastating phaser fire that exploded Remmick’s head and burned away the parasite nesting inside his torso had left little in the way of organic matter for Starfleet scientists to evaluate.

“Nonetheless, before we start randomly burning down sentient beings in the hopes of taking out a queen, I think we need to investigate this situation a little further.” Pulaski’s sarcastic tone was absolutely withering and Seven noted the flush in Kelly’s cheeks.

“The good doctor is quite right,” Janeway said, putting up her hand to calm any emotions that might be rising too quickly.  “But so is Commander Kelly. I don’t want to just walk away from this without exploring every possibility.  We need to discover if there’s anything we can do to free the Wakardi, and we’ll start with the delegates. Kelly, you and Ro are with me. Seven, I want you to find out everything you can about the creatures in your lab. Try to come up with a way to remove the creatures en masse. Commander Torres, we need to be ready for anything, and that includes running for the Confederation if it comes to that.”  Her eyes were unyielding as she regarded her staff.

“Whatever happens, the invasion stops here.  We’re not going to let it expand into the Confederation, and subsequently, into the Federation.”

Kelly always found the lighting in the security center to be slightly dimmer than in the rest of the ship, though she wasn’t sure why. Perhaps it was an attempt to intimidate whomever was being held in the brig at the time.

Not that the beings currently in the brig appeared to be very intimidated. Rather, they seemed fairly angry at being treated like common criminals. Heirra stood as close to the force field as she could without being repulsed, glaring at the captain and two officers standing just beyond.

By the console, Kelly noticed the assistant security chief M’Reek monitoring the brig controls. He glanced up and met her eyes and she looked away, feeling flustered and uncomfortable. He had been distant lately, ever since she had told him of her growing attachment to him. She told herself bitterly that she should have been content with the casual relationship of physical pleasure they shared, and not expected anything more. That was the story of her life, it seemed. They always came on to her in the beginning, made a big production of how much they cared about her, but once she started to care in return, once she opened up her heart to them, they decided it wasn't anything that they wanted after all.  Then they went off to something and someone else, leaving her alone and hurting, and wondering why she had been so foolish for believing anyone could love her, determined never to be so stupid again.

“Captain Janeway, I demand an explanation for this...” Heirra faltered, seeming unable to come up with a suitable adverb, “horrendous treatment.”

“As I told your associate, we’ve encountered your kind before.”  Janeway’s lips were thin, her words bitten off like pieces of ice. Kelly wondered if almost being invaded by a parasitic creature had actually frightened the captain. She certainly knew it had given her the crawling yips. Even now, the hair was standing up on the back of her neck as she observed the aliens, knowing that their minds weren’t their own, but rather being controlled by bug-like creatures residing inside their skulls.

“The Wakardi have never encountered the Federation---” Heirra began.

“Not the Wakardi, but the creatures you carry within, the creatures actually controlling the hosts. Those, we’re quite familiar with.”

There was a pause as the prisoners exchanged glances, and when Heirra faced them again, there was a subtle change in her features. An impassive coldness prevailed, almost a deadness to the facial muscles, as if, since there was no longer any need for deception, the creature could take complete control rather than merely ’direct’.

“Very well, release us and return us to our world.  It is clear you do not want our gift.”

“Gift?” Janeway echoed in evident disbelief. “What kind of gift is taking over the bodies and minds of others for your own ends?”

“We wish only peaceful co-existence. When we first encountered the Wakardi a century ago, they were chaotic, disruptive, and dangerous. They lived in a state of constant war amongst their various tribal groupings. Even during times of what they called ’peace’, there were still several ongoing, armed conflicts occurring in various areas of their planet. We brought stability to their world and they have flourished in the years since, both technologically and socially.”

Kelly thought it sounded like a more polite form of ’resistance is futile’ but the end result was just the same. Ro moved up beside the captain and whispered something in her ear, too low for Kelly to catch it.  Frowning, Kelly glanced at Ro who obligingly leaned closer and filled her in.

“According to our scans, Heirra is hosting a mother creature,” she murmured.

Kelly felt her eyebrows raise and her skin crawl as she looked at the leader of the delegation with new eyes. How much of Heirra had the parasite eaten away? And how could the body work with all those organs gone?  Did the parasite’s own organs take over?

She felt like throwing up and swallowed hard.

Janeway positioned herself just outside the forcefield, glaring at the Wakardi as if sheer force of will could make the creature within the host come out and confront her.  “That’s certainly one viewpoint, but I wonder what would happen if the individual you have enslaved could speak.  I wonder what her viewpoint would be?”

Heirra looked at her with scorn. “She would thank us for preventing her species’ inevitable destruction.”

Janeway’s lips parted, about to say something before she seemed to reconsider. Instead, she paused, took a deep breath and offered a smile that Kelly found somewhat out of place. When she spoke, her voice was very mild.

“Perhaps you’re correct.”

Startled, Kelly found herself murmuring a quiet “Captain?” while on the other side, Ro shot Janeway a swift, sharp look before returning her attention to the brig. Janeway’s eyes flicked over to her first officer in an unmistakable expression of warning, and Kelly promptly shut her mouth, though her mind was seething. What was the captain up to?

Heirra appeared vaguely surprised as well. “I’m glad you see it that way, Captain.”

“I’m not saying that we’re going to allow you to infect any of us,” Janeway continued in that calm, reasonable tone, “but it’s undeniable that we know little about you and your kind. Our primary mission has always been to explore new life and new civilizations. To deny ourselves the opportunity out of fear would give no honor to the ideals we profess to hold.”

“Then you'll release us?”

“What I’m offering is an exchange.  We’ll resume orbit around Wakira Prime, continue to treat you as guests, a delegation of your people as it were, while we learn more about you. In return, you will make no attempt to retrieve your...’gift’, nor will you take any threatening or inappropriate action against the crew or our Confederacy guest. Is this acceptable?”

Heirra looked suspicious. “Why not simply return us to our home and be done with it?”

Janeway’s features hardened. “You made a blatant attempt to hijack our ship by taking over the senior staff during a diplomatic negotiation.  In many cultures, that’s considered a formal declaration of war. I’m offering you the opportunity to continue a diplomatic exchange of ideas. If that’s not acceptable, then I must approach the situation from a position of aggression and you’ll be considered prisoners of war.”

Put that way, Kelly suspected that Heirra had little choice. She wasn’t entirely sure what the captain was up to but she had come to trust Janeway to a certain extent over the past few months.  She simply didn’t believe Janeway was so gullible or bound to Starfleet principles that she’d let the Wakardi run about the ship without proper supervision.  She didn’t like the idea of letting them out of the brig at all, of course, but she was willing to go along with it for now.

“You will have an honor guard attending to you at all times,” Janeway added smoothly, “and your individual quarters will be shielded by the appropriate medical quarantine forcefields. All negotiations will take place in a similarly shielded briefing room, and once they're complete, we’ll return you to your planet unharmed. You have my word as a Starfleet officer and a representative of the Federation.” She hesitated. “I cannot speak for the Confederation in this matter, of course, but I will speak to the Minister on your behalf.”

Heirra looked at the others in her group and opened her mouth. An odd, low-level buzz, shading almost into a screech, issued from her lips, and Kelly’s skin did its best to crawl off her body and across the deck to huddle in the corner. Janeway winced visibly, and Ro set her teeth though she didn’t take her eyes off the prisoners. Obviously, this was the parasites’ true form of communication, one that defied the Starfleet translator’s abilities to decode, and after a few more painful exchanges, Heirra finally dipped her head and faced the captain.

“I accept your terms, Captain Janeway.”

Janeway motioned to Ro with a slight gesture of her hand. “Please see that our guests are escorted to the quarters we made up for them and be sure they have the proper attendants present.”  Another way of telling Ro to keep a security team on them at all times. Ro hesitated briefly, a troubled expression in her dark eyes, but she nodded and went over to M’Reek, speaking intently to him, too low for anyone else to hear.

Kelly stood by quietly, frowning as the force field was dispersed and several security officers escorted the Wakardi delegation from the room.  After they left, she turned expectantly to the captain. Ro was already speaking with her.

“Captain, are you completely sure about this?”

“Laren, we don’t know enough about these creatures,” Janeway told her. “Now that we know they exist, this will allow us a closer look at how the creatures interact with their hosts. It may give us a key in how to remove them.”

Kelly wondered if this was a moment where she needed to play devil’s advocate and offer an opposing view to her captain.  She was with her on wanting those things dead and gone, but she also remembered that there were certain other factors involved.

“This may be a matter of the Prime Directive, Captain,” she heard herself saying, hardly able to believe what was coming out of her mouth. “The Wakardi have not requested that we free them. Even in the event we do come up with a quick and easy way to remove the parasites, are we then supposed to stay around until they manage to rebuild their society that has been directed by the parasites for decades?”

Janeway’s expression was unfamiliar, and it took Kelly a moment to realize it was actually approval, albeit, surprised approval. “Those are good points, Commander. We have no idea how extensive this infestation is. If it is only key politicians who are controlled, like Heirra, then we’ll essentially be destroying their government if we chose to act against them. That’s not something to be taken lightly no matter what the circumstances.”

Ro frowned at them both. “I would think the hosts want these things gone, but how can they ask if they're infested?”

“That’s why we have to find out exactly what we’re dealing with.”  Janeway’s fingertips touched lightly on Ro’s shoulder.  “I want you to keep a close eye on them, Laren. Any sign that they’re up to something, you have my authorization to act in any manner you see fit.”

“I understand, Captain.” Ro looked pleased at the blanket authority offered to handle things her way if necessary.

“Number One, you’re with me.”

Kelly fell into step with Janeway as they left the security section. On the turbolift, Janeway instructed it to take them to the bridge. As the lift began to ascend, the captain turned to Kelly.  “I need you to go down to the planet and check things out.”

That wasn’t exactly on Kelly’s list of preferred things to do, but she also recognized that Janeway was giving her a mission, her trust as it were, and that was not something to dismiss lightly, particularly after she had worked so hard to earn it the past few months.  So instead of the objections she wanted to offer, she merely nodded.

“Alone?”

“No, but neither do I want a lot of my people down there. We need to know if there’s any sign of rebellion against these things. Is everyone infested? If not, does the average Wakardi citizen know about the creatures in their midst? It’s a reconnaissance mission, nothing more.  I heard you were good at those.”

Kelly felt a sliver of pride ripple through her.  “I am, but Captain, I’d like to take Ro with me. She has the most familiarity with this sort of mission.”

“I’d rather she be on the ship monitoring things, but you’re right, she’s the best for the job and she can’t be in two places at once. I’ll have to trust that she’s taught her people well.”

“I’d also like an experienced science officer along.”

Janeway’s expression did not alter, but there was a barely detectable pause before she spoke. “Lt. Wildman is the head of biometrics and has a great deal of experience in xeobiological surveys.”

Kelly had been hoping for Lt. Hansen, but she supposed it would be a bit much for the captain to volunteer her wife for what could be a dangerous mission. Samantha Wildman was probably the next best thing. “Very well, Captain.  When would you like us to go?”

“Right away. Check with sickbay. They’ll be able to disguise you so that you’ll look like a Wakardi.”  Janeway hesitated. “And not just a Wakardi.”

Kelly nodded.  “I was thinking the same thing, Captain. Supposedly being infested might get us into places we wouldn’t otherwise have access to.”

“No heroics, Commander. I need you all back safe.”

“Understood.”
The turbolift stopped and Janeway stepped off onto the bridge. Before the doors slid shut, she glanced back and offered an encouraging smile that was surprisingly welcome. Then Kelly inhaled deeply and tapped her communicator.
"Commander Ro, I need to see you in sickbay immediately. We have a mission."

Their quarters were empty when Janeway finally made it back. Though it was only midway through the beta shift, she didn’t think Seven was working late. Surprised, she lifted her head. “Computer, locate Seven of Nine.”

“Seven of Nine is in her quarters.”

Frowning, Janeway checked the bedroom and the ensuite before realizing where she had to be. Attached to their quarters, accessed by a door between the kitchenette and the dining nook, a lush garden…a Valentine’s Day present from the captain…had been incorporated into the ship’s design. Seven often spent her free time amid the growing things that were a decided contrast in surroundings to all her years as a technical being with the Borg.

Sure enough, Janeway discovered Seven sitting peacefully beneath the apple tree that was the centerpiece of the garden, her legs crossed and hands resting palm up on her knees, her face in calm repose as she meditated. Nearby, a tiny waterfall cascaded into a picturesque fountain, offering a soothing melody of sound. Stealthily, Janeway took a seat on the wooden bench and watched her with quiet enjoyment. It had been Sek/Kes who had taught Seven how to meditate on Voyager, though it hadn’t been anything she utilized often. It was only in recent months that Seven had begun meditating on a regular basis. Janeway wasn’t entirely sure why, but if it granted Seven a sense of peace and stability, then she was all for it.  She even wondered if she should take up the practice.

Seven had exchanged her dress uniform for dark pants and a simple, wine shaded blouse that left her forearms bare, and displayed a dipping neckline to reveal the beginning of generous cleavage. Janeway regretted that she wouldn’t have a chance to remove those dress whites, but Seven still looked good enough to eat, her long hair cascading in a golden flow over her shoulders and back.

As if detecting Janeway’s presence and quickening desire, Seven’s eyes popped opened, cool pools of blue that analyzed the captain in a heartbeat. A small smile lifted the corner of her full lips.

“Kathryn.”

“Do you know how gorgeous you are?”

The gray curve of ocular implant rose slightly. “I am fully aware of how amorous you are.”

“I’m amorous because you’re gorgeous.” Janeway offered her most charming leer.

“A somewhat superficial reason to be attracted to me, but it shall do for now.”

Janeway smiled broadly and rose from the bench, moving over to the soft turf beneath the spreading branches of the tree. It was in full bloom and the sweet perfume of blossoms filled her nostrils as she sank down into Seven’s lap.  With a happy sigh, she slipped her arms around Seven’s neck and rested her head on the strong shoulder, burying her face in the warm skin of her throat.

“God, I love this.”

Seven’s arms tightened around her, and Janeway felt her lips brush lightly over her forehead and temple. “I love you.”

Janeway relaxed, feeling her muscles grow slack as Seven supported her, leaning back against the solid truck of the tree.  There was plenty of ship’s business that she needed to discuss with her, particularly pertaining to the parasites, but for the moment, Janeway allowed herself to bask in Seven’s warm embrace, shutting away the universe outside the confines of this artificial park. Perhaps it had been a gift intended only for Seven, but there was no question that Janeway enjoyed and needed this small slice of paradise just as much.

“Busy day,” she murmured.

“Unquestionably.” Seven kissed the top of her head. “Do you wish to discuss it?”

Janeway groaned softly in negation.

“Is anything wrong?” There was a note of concern in Seven’s voice.

“I just want you to hold me.”

“As long as required, my Kathryn.”

Janeway took that as permission not to be captain for a little while longer, a valuable and cherished gift that only Seven could grant her. She had always possessed such special ability but Janeway was aware of it now more than ever, accepting of its power and fully surrendering to it, less inclined to struggle against whether she should allow it of herself or not.  Overhead, she could hear the flow of air in the leaves of the tree, the circulation provided by the ship’s vents located at the top of the high bulkheads making it sound like an actual breeze. Beneath her cheek, the steady throb of Seven’s heart beat in her ear and flooded her with contentment, making her feel safe and loved.

She no longer felt worried or weary or any of the other things that had plagued her when she walked into the quarters. Perhaps she did meditate, after all, she decided happily, just not in the way other people did.  Her meditation merely required the strong arms of her beloved surrounding her and the heady fragrance of Seven’s scent filling her lungs with every slow, measured breath. And with her eyes closed, she could almost believe she was on the farm in Indiana, with no demands on her, no need to worry about a ship or crew, having no more cares than what she should have for dinner.

Speaking of which. Her eyes opened and she drew back from Seven slightly, just enough so that she could deliver a lengthy, loving and slightly lascivious kiss. “Hmm,” she murmured when they finally parted.  “What’s for dinner?”

“Whatever you wish,” Seven told her as she uncoiled from the ground, lifting Janeway up at the same time until they were both standing on their feet.

Tucking her arm in the crook of Seven’s elbow, Janeway walked with her back to their quarters, the gravel of the path crunching beneath their feet. “What about something exotic, like Vulcan or Bajoran?”

“Or Orion?”

Janeway felt a pleasant thrill go through her. “Or Orion,” she agreed readily.

Something light and flavorful that could be fed to each other in small pieces by their fingers seemed just the thing to finish her day properly. She didn’t want to have to think about the parasites that infested the planet below, and worse, what she might have to do about them...assuming she could do anything.

As Seven started replicating the various finger foods, Janeway set up the coffee table with glasses and a bottle of wine. Cushions were tossed onto the deck where they could recline in comfort, and Janeway slipped out of her boots, wiggling her toes with relief as she leaned back against the base of the couch.  She sipped from her glass, smiling briefly as Seven deposited a platter of meat and cheese pastries along with another of sliced vegetables and fruit. After going back to retrieve a multi-sectioned dish containing a variety of dips ranging from spicy to sweet, Seven lowered herself to the pillows next to Janeway.

“What troubles you, Kathryn?”

Janeway resisted the urge to sigh as she savored a bite-sized morsel that combined spinach, cheese and some kind of meat inside the pastry pocket.  “Just the usual,” she replied after she swallowed a sip of wine. “Whatever happens over the next few days, I’m going to have to make some hard decisions.”

Seven nodded thoughtfully as she slipped her arm around Janeway’s shoulders, pulling her close.  “I understand. Even if we can find ways to remove the parasites, how many planets in this sector have been compromised?”

Janeway lifted a finger to rub her right temple fretfully. “Exactly. Are we supposed to clear out an entire sector? Find their home world and destroy it? The time and resources to carry out such an effort are beyond Millennium’s capability or mandate. Then there’s the question of whether we even should or not.”

Seven blinked, surprised. “There is an ethical reason not to?”

“Not just ethical reasons, but also procedural ones.” Janeway sighed.  “Like it or not, the parasites are sentient. We may not like their methods of conquest or how they conduct their civilization in the aftermath, but no one has formally asked us to intervene, and even if the Wakardi somehow could, I’m not sure the Prime Directive would allow for it.”

“I understand. Any worlds already infested by Species 075 may be inviolate,” Seven said. “Indeed, Starfleet did not intervene when the Cardassians occupied Bajor because Bajor was not a member of the Federation. They could not even offer any assistance until the Cardassians had been overthrown by the Bajoran freedom fighters.”

“I don’t like it, but that’s the way it is.”  Janeway shook her head as she retrieved another cheese pastry.  “And although our treaty with the Confederacy includes a mutual defense pact, that doesn’t necessarily include interfering with their neighbors, even at their request. This may be a Beta Quadrant problem that doesn’t concern us other than making sure the Federation is protected from any future invasion.”

“But what if Jiidan requests our assistance?” Seven stroked Janeway’s hair lightly, tangling her fingers in the auburn strands.  “Not directly, but indirectly.”

“What do you mean?”

“If we determine a way to remove the parasites without harming the hosts on a global level, we wouldn’t have to utilize the technique ourselves. We could offer it to the Confederacy, just as you offered modified nanoprobe technology to the Borg in order to fight Species 8472.”

Janeway tried not to wince, though she felt the comment in the pit of her stomach like a sharp thrust of a knife. “That isn’t really a good example, Seven,” she admitted reluctantly. “In fact, I was forgiven that violation by Starfleet as a ’necessary command decision in the field’ when in reality, they could have just as easily court-martialed me for it instead.”

Seven blinked. “You never told me that,” she said slowly after a moment.

“It wasn’t anything I was particularly proud of.”

“Yet, you would do it again if the circumstances were the same.” Seven eyed her knowingly.

“You’re probably right,” Janeway agreed with a sigh, “but knowing what I know now, I’m not sure these circumstances warrant similar actions.”

“Because it is not our ship or the Federation that is directly endangered by the parasites?”

Janeway shot her a sharp look but Seven’s face was innocent and she realized it was an honest observation, not one designed to prick her assumptions as other comments by her spouse could often be.  She dipped her head. “Partly, but there would be some who would counter that by claiming that not helping the Confederacy would be opening the way to the parasites for a future takeover of the Federation.”

“The Confederacy does not possess slipstream technology,” Seven pointed out. “Other than our communications array and visits by starships like Millennium, there is no danger to the Federation at all. Even the initial incursion by the parasites seems more an accident of circumstances than a concentrated attempt to invade the Alpha Quadrant.”

“Provided their transwarp technology doesn’t progress any further,” Janeway reminded her. “Then they can reach us easily.”

“The Borg enabled the technology to work properly because of the contribution from many other assimilated species. It is unlikely that the Varmuur will advance any further in the technology without such assistance. Otherwise, the parasites would be more widespread.”

Janeway shook her head fretfully. “We have no idea how widespread these things really are in this sector, or even how they go about deciding how and where to expand next.  That’s why we need to know more.”

“Is that not why you dispatched the away team to the planet?”

“That doesn’t mean they’ll come up with all the answers.” Janeway exhaled softly. “In fact, let’s hope they don’t find out more than we bargained for.”

Seven recycled the last of the dishes and ran a cloth over the counter in a final cleanup. Janeway had already retired to the bedroom where Seven knew she would be waiting with amorous intent, having easily read the signs all evening. She wasn’t adverse to that, but she did need a moment to herself to think about other things. It continued to bother her that she had hurt Janeway so badly in recent weeks. She still believed she had a right to be angry over the circumstances but she realized she had reacted to the anger in an inappropriate manner by seeking out Lenara Kahn for comfort.

She could not change what she had done, but if she could fully understand why she had pursued that particular course of action, then she would be unlikely to repeat such behavior. Even if part of it was trying to hurt Kathryn in the most efficient manner, there might be more to it, and she wondered if she needed to speak with Kes about it. Though not as comfortable and trusting with the Ocampa as she had been with her holographic counterpart, Sek, she had reached the point where she could accept any advice the counselor offered and perhaps even allow her close enough to accomplish some valuable insight into her psyche.

Her still developing psyche. Seven considered that for a long moment, wondering why that particular point had floated up in her mind and what relevance it could hold. She finally decided that it would be wise to discuss it with Kes. After all, that would be where the counselor could help her the most.

Shrugging lightly, she put away the cloth and moved toward the bedroom, glancing at Janeway who looked up from the book she was reading. The garish cover displayed a bearded civil war soldier embracing a voluptuous southern belle whose generous cleavage was in grave danger of spilling out over the low cut dress, undoubtedly because of the improbable bent over backward position in which the man had placed her. Seven resisted the urge to shudder at such puerile data being absorbed by Janeway even as she tolerated the guilty pleasure the captain experienced while indulging in historical romances. At least, she no longer regularly participated in holographic versions of such novels, Seven reminded herself philosophically.

“A moment, Kathryn.”

“Take your time.”

The offhandedness of the comment was not at all indicative of Janeway’s true feelings, Seven knew and she felt vaguely amused as she entered the ensuite. With pleasant anticipation, she took care of her few ablutions before returning to the bedroom where Janeway lounged beneath the sheets, the book no longer visible. Seven wondered if she had been reading a ‘dirty part’ prior to putting it away. Or perhaps it was merely Seven’s appearance that caused the high color in Janeway’s high cheekbones, the visibly increased respiration and the defined glint in the bluish eyes.

“Hello, darling.”

Seven smiled and slipped out of the robe, easing into the midnight blue Starfleet-issued sheets, but to her surprise, Janeway didn’t immediately reach out for her. Glancing over quizzically, Seven saw that Janeway was now on her side, regarding her with quiet intent, chin resting on the palm of her bent elbow. Her eyes seemed to glimmer in the lowered illumination and Seven lifted her hand to gently stroke curve of her face, fingertips light on the soft skin.

“Kathryn?”

“Just appreciating the sight of you.”

“Indeed.” Seven slipped her palm around Janeway’s ear to the back of her head, pulling her close in a warm, melting kiss. Her lips were so soft, yielding to Seven, and she deepened the exchange, enjoying the play of Kathryn’s tongue against her own.

She was pleased by the captain’s restraint, well aware of her level of desire, yet Janeway was apparently willing to indulge in these moments of tender anticipation, showing how much she cherished Seven rather than merely wanting her. Seven didn’t know how long they kissed, only knowing there was something extremely intoxicating about it before Janeway finally made a soft sound at the back of her throat, almost entreating, and Seven immediately molded herself against her body.

“What?” she murmured quietly.

“Nothing, just thinking that perhaps you have to almost lose something to know how precious it really is.”

Seven responded with another kiss, running her hands down the smooth line of Janeway's back, fingertips bumping over the spinal ridges. The gentle curves of her breasts flattened against Seven’s more full ones as they clung together, their kisses becoming forceful, almost dueling in their desire.  Janeway moaned softly, falling back onto the mattress as Seven pressed her down, easing over on top of her. Her legs spread, falling apart naturally to support Seven’s groin on the cradle of her pelvis and Seven made a small sound of joy, pushing against the tender flesh rhythmically with her mound.

“Oh, darling, can you...” Janeway’s voice trailed off as she tried to breathe and Seven caught her breath at the chill of pleasure that fissured through her, knowing exactly what she wanted.

Lifting up, she positioned herself so that they were connected intimately, legs entangled, ridge skidding over ridge in delightful friction, moisture mingling to make everything wonderfully wet and slick. Seven was always required to take the lead in this position, being far more flexible and controlled than Janeway but even she couldn’t maintain it before the sheer intensity got the best of her. This was no different and soon she had to relinquish her posture, falling onto Janeway’s breasts, licking and mouthing her nipples avidly as her right hand quickly sought out the juncture of her legs, fingers fondling the sensitive bundle of nerves fervently before plunging deeply into the warmth of her body.

Janeway arched and groaned and muttered incoherent comments that indicated her steadily increasing desire. Gripping Seven’s shoulders tightly, her nails dug in slightly as it grew more overwhelming.  Seven could feel the sharp pricks as the skin was broken, but she didn’t cease, taking an odd sort of pride in the small pains. Then Janeway was there, trembling violently in release, a guttural groan that reverberated from the very pit of her stomach.

Feeling rather gratified herself, Seven pulled Janeway close in the aftermath, cuddling her as she went boneless in her arms, a perfectly sated smile of bliss on her face. There was an intense satisfaction in knowing how much she could pleasure Janeway, and it was times like these that Seven completely understood the smug look that occasionally appeared on the captain’s face after making love.

“Wonderful.”

Seven nuzzled her lightly. “I am pleased you enjoyed it.”

Janeway opened her eyes and studied her for a moment. “What about you?”

“Oh, I enjoyed it as well.”

Janeway chuckled huskily. “No, I mean, what do you need, my love?”

Seven considered the possibilities.

“Perhaps if you would…” Her voice lowered and she completed the thought via a soft whisper in Janeway’s ear.

“Oh, my.”

Much later, she lay back against the sheets, heart slowly beginning to ease its pounding, her respiration finally reaching a point that she wasn’t gasping for every breath. Janeway could certainly look as smug as she wanted at this point, Seven decided, because she had more than earned the right. Vaguely, she was aware of Janeway pulling the sheets up over their bodies and asking the computer to lower the temperature of the room two degrees.

“Darling?”

“Yes, Kathryn?” Weakly, she lifted her hand and stoked Janeway’s hair where her head rested on her breastbone, the rest of her warm body pressed close to Seven’s side.
“Are you going to sleep?”

“I am merely recovering.” Seven exhaled slowly, feeling a pleasant yet insistent lassitude seep through her body.  “Did you wish to converse?” Sometimes the energy and endurance of her compact spouse staggered her, particularly when she compared what should have been mere flesh and bone to cybernetic implants and Borg nanoprobes.

“Not if you’re sleepy.”

Seven lifted her eyebrow, assessed the tone of the comment and sent a fleeting thought to her cortical node to release more nanoprobes into her system, chasing away the fatigue dragging her down. “I am not sleepy,” she said truthfully.

Janeway sighed and didn’t speak for several minutes. Seven wondered if she had drifted off and contemplated the most efficient way to toss her out of bed and on to floor.

“Kathryn?”

“Sorry, darling. Just organizing my thoughts.”

“Are you about to make some kind of presentation to me?”

Janeway lifted her head and looked at her. Seven could see her easily in the lowered illumination, her eyes a warm blue with a faint shade of gray that indicated she was slightly troubled.  “Are you being sarcastic?”

Seven, about to respond tartly in order to continue the parrying of wits with her, reconsidered and said instead, “What troubles you, Kathryn?”

“Just wondering if I did the right thing by sending Kelly down to the planet.”

“Ah. Do you have doubts about her proficiency regarding the mission?”

“No, that’s actually the strange part. I’m convinced that this military type of operation is precisely the kind she’s good at.  Plus, with Ro and Samantha Wildman along, I have no worries that she’ll go off half cocked on her own.”

Seven hesitated. “Half cocked? What does that mean, Kathryn?”

Janeway made a sound of startled amusement. “Sorry, darling. I meant that she would operate without a plausible plan of action.”

“And half cocked means that? What does fully cocked mean?”

“Oh, God, it means…uh, just a second while I think about it.  It’s an expression but I’m not entirely sure of the origin.”

“Is it a sexual reference regarding masculine appendages?”

Janeway laughed.  “No, I don’t think so.”  She paused.  “I think it has to do with ancient weaponry.  A gun, similar to the ones we used in the holoprogram with the riverboat, has to be prepared prior to firing. Pulling back the ‘hammer’ is called ‘cocking’.  If a gun is ‘half-cocked’ it is more likely to be discharged accidentally and is negligently dangerous.”

“Interesting. And you believe that Kelly would do this?”

“No, I don’t think she will, that’s my point. I’m completely confident in her abilities to carry out the mission.”

“Then what concerns you?”

Janeway sobered and stared into the darkness.  Seven waited patiently, observing her profile, which was clearly visible to her optical implant despite the lowered illumination.

“I think I may have sent her off without the best away team possible.”

Seven considered the words, and more importantly, Janeway’s tone. There was an undercurrent of shame present, regret and dismay at some self-revelation. “Explain.”

“She asked for an experienced science officer. I recommended Lt. Wildman.”

“Lt. Wildman is exceptionally competent in her abilities, particularly on away missions dealing with alien cultures.”

“Yes, but she wasn’t the best option available.” Janeway lifted her head, peering at Seven though she doubted Kathryn could see her very well in the darkness.  “You are.”

Seven blinked, surprised.  “You are correct, I am superior to Lt. Wildman in this regard.” It was said without pride, merely a statement of fact as Seven saw it.  “Why did you not…” She hesitated, considering it and finally understanding what had happened.  She felt a sliver of anger resonate through her at what was an ongoing…if minor…conflict between them. “You did not want me to go on the mission.”

“No, I didn’t.” Janeway’s tone was hard, but it was directed at herself rather than being defensive toward Seven.  “It was a mistake.  It’s one I’ve made before and one I’m very much afraid I’ll make again.  I’m simply not objective when it comes to you and your safety. I have no excuse, particularly when I think about Naomi. If anything were to happen to Samantha…”

Seven felt her anger dissipate at the very real guilt in Janeway’s voice and pulled her close.  “I spoke with Samantha prior to her transport to the planet,” she assured her quietly. “She was very excited about joining the mission. I know that sometimes she feels that she does not have the opportunity to contribute to away missions as much as she would like. This will grant her some valuable experience.”

”That doesn’t make what I did any better.”

“No, but sometimes you can do the right thing for the wrong reason. That does not make it any less right.”

Janeway hugged Seven tightly, almost fiercely. “I know I can’t protect you, as much as I would like to.”

“No, but neither can I protect you, particularly during a major crisis, so perhaps we can only indulge our protective natures during small incidents such as these.”

“So you forgive me?” Janeway asked wistfully.

“Of course. Do you forgive yourself?”

“I suppose I have to, don’t I? Especially if you tell me to.”

“I do.” Seven nuzzled her tenderly.  “Go to sleep, Kathryn. It will be better in the morning.”
And as Janeway drifted off in her arms, Seven waited patiently for the alertness caused by her boost of nanoprobes to wear off so that she could sleep as well.

Kelly felt the top of her head, her fingers sliding over the smooth skin of her skull and hoped Pulaski was correct when she said there was a method to revese the cosmetic procedure as easily as it was to create it. Turning away from the window that looked out over the town square, she glanced around the hotel room where they were currently holed up. The Wakardi culture was approximate to Earth's mid-21st Century technology, an amazingly secure and peaceable society, with little in the way of crime and no conflicts reported anywhere on the planet, just as the parasites had stated in the brig. In any given location, the away team could detect the creatures infesting various key government officials, including the presence of one or more mother creatures in the larger cities, though it appeared that the average citizen was unaware of their existence. Kelly found that rather interesting because it led to the inevitable question of what would their reaction be if they knew? Would there be worldwide panic and consternation? Or perhaps she was underestimating the Wakardi.  Perhaps they would collectively shrug, conclude they were better off, and go back to their own personal pursuits.

She did know one thing they couldn’t find was any trace of a resistance group against the planetary government, and that was very uncommon. Even in the most stable of societies, there were always a few malcontents no matter how limited they might be in number. But there was absolutely nothing here, which meant either all citizens loved their government…very unlikely…or the parasites were very efficient at rooting out the slightest hint of sedition and removing it.

Kelly suspected the latter.  Whatever benefits the parasites might bring, their incursion into the Federation showed they were utterly ruthless. Plus, this place was just too peaceful, particularly for a species that had experienced conflict and intertribal wars so recently in their past. From what the away team could discover in various historical archives around the planet, all conflict ended a half century earlier, with an encounter with an alien vessel that had crashed on their main continent. In the decade that followed, the Wakardi made rapid progress to a global peace and developed into the society they were today. Historians had concluded the Wakardi had experienced a world-wide shock to their collective system, a ‘wake-up call’ as it were, that their warlike ways had no place in a greater universe that supported many other species, any one of whom could be more powerful and dangerous than they were. Being united as a people was their only true form of defence.

Though the away team thought it had less to do with such noble aspirations and more to do with the parasites taking over key government officials in various parts of the world and working together to create a society in which they could thrive.

The sound of the door made Kelly reach for the phaser concealed in her cloak, wrapping her fingers around it tightly before relaxing as Ro and Wildman entered. Ro looked completely comfortable as a Wakardi, and if it weren’t for the familiar features…albeit, lacking the Bajoran ridge…Kelly wouldn’t know her as anything other than what she was pretending to be. She suspected she and Wildman were far more awkward in their approach to infiltration, though so far, there had been no indication of suspicion from anyone.

“Anything new?”

Ro dropped her satchel, a beaded variety of the type many Wakardi utilized, onto the table and shook her head with an air of weariness. “Not beyond what we already know. The town’s mayor, deputy mayor and treasurer are all compromised, but no one else appears to be. We can’t detect any mother creature. This town is probably too small for one.”

“Why does no one notice? The neck tubules if nothing else.” Fretfully, Kelly sat down at the table and poured some fruit juice  from the cooled pitcher resting on the surface into three glasses. Both away team members looked a little warm since the current climate wasn’t conducive to cloaks.

Wildman offered a grateful look as she drank the reddish liquid. A solidly built woman with blonde hair, she tended to be reserved, but possessed a vibrant sense of humor. Kelly rather liked her. She may not have possessed all of Lt. Hansen’s abilities, but she was competent and genuinely pleased to have been assigned to the away team.

“The Wakardi prefer long hair as a rule, even the males, and that keeps the back of their necks covered most of the time,” Wildman offered. “Also, most of those infested usually don’t have families so it’s not as if anyone would get close enough to notice under normal circumstances.”

“And that’s not a sign as well?”

“Apparently it’s preferred by the voters that their representative not have family ties,” Ro said as she settled onto the sofa, shooting her a sardonic look.  “They tend to elect a single person before a married one. I’m not sure if that’s normal to the Wakardi culture or introduced by the parasites when they first infiltrated them. I don’t think it would be too hard to introduce the concept that those without personal ties would be better able to concentrate on their responsibility to the people than those with families.”

Kelly thought about it. “That’s true in some cultures in the Federation as well.”

“Then there are those for whom family and clan ties are predominant and a single person would never be able to hold office. The Klingons, for example, believe that anyone unable to maintain a strong clan would be unable to be a strong ruler for his or her people.” Wildman shifted in her chair to look at Ro.  “Speaking of families, Commander, I haven’t had the chance before now to congratulate you.”

To Kelly’s surprise, Ro suddenly looked bashful, and her skin took on a decidedly pinkish glow. “Thank you, Lieutenant,” she said shortly, in a tone that Kelly had difficulty recognizing. It sound embarrassed, yet at the same time, there was an undercurrent of pride and joy present. She frowned.

Wildman must have noted the confusion because she reached over and patted the first officer on the arm.  “Commander Ro is about to become a mother.”

Kelly was glad she wasn’t drinking any of the fruit juice. As it was, she choked involuntarily.  “You’re pregnant?!?”  It was so far out of the realm of anything she thought she knew about the security chief that she could only gape stupidly at Ro.

Ro’s dark eyes narrowed slightly, but she inclined her head slightly. “No,” she said coolly. “B’Elanna is.”

Kelly felt her face burn. “I’m sorry, Commander that was…it was a stupid comment. I was just surprised.”  She swallowed hard, feeling gauche. “Congratulations.”

There was a bit of an awkward pause and Wildman finally broke it by motioning to the communications device that came with the hotel room. “Let’s order up some dinner. I’m tired of trying to eat in restaurants and eavesdrop at the same time. I can’t enjoy my food.”

Kelly nodded, seizing on the suggestion like a lifeline. “Excellent idea. Lieutenant, you seem to have the best grasp of their menu selections.”

“It may even be tasty,” Wildman said with a grin.

At this point, Kelly would settle for edible. She thought the hardest thing about reconnaissance missions was finding something to eat. All species had their own tastes and flavors and while it was easy to make sure meals were compatible to their digestive systems, it was a lot harder to find something palatable.

As Wildman busied herself with the online menu at the communications console, Kelly moved over and took a seat next to Ro. “Really, Commander, I’m very happy for you.”

“Thank you.” Ro said dryly. “So I guess this doesn’t fit into your preconceptions of what a security chief should be.” As Kelly struggled to find a response, Ro finally let her off the hook by smiling. “Honestly, Kiara, don’t worry about it.  I never thought of myself as parent material either…until I settled down with B’Elanna. In any event, the best security chief I know has always had a family. He said it made him more perceptive of the motivations of certain individuals. What people wouldn’t do out of loyalty to an organization or to a chain of command, they would do in a heartbeat if it meant protecting their family unit.”

“I hope that isn’t why you’re having a kid…to gain a greater perception of others.’

“No, it’s simply because it’s the right time. We both want it.”

“Does the captain know?”

Ro actually laughed. “There’s very little that gets by Janeway on the ship. She was one of the first to know and she actually asked me when I was going to announce it.”

Kelly thought about that. “I guess I never considered families as being compatible with being a Starfleet officer.”

“If I may speak freely, Commander?” Ro glanced briefly over her shoulder. Wildman had finished ordering and had disappeared into one of the bedrooms, leaving the senior officers to their conversation.

“Of course, always, you know that, Ro.”

“Honestly, you need to stop going into things with preconceived notions. They rarely hold up and usually get you into trouble.  The great thing about Janeway is she always tries to leave her options open for as long as possible.”

<>          Because she admired and respected Ro so much, Kelly was able to consider her words in a way that she wouldn’t have been able to had it come from someone else…someone like Janeway, which she supposed sort of proved Ro’s point. “That’s why we’re down here, isn’t it?  Her leaving her options open?”

“Exactly. Another captain might have refused to learn anything about the parasites before trying to destroy them simply because of what happened in the Federation. It’s a great captain who can search for other ways to resolve a situation before going with a decision that can’t be undone.”

“She doesn’t think I can make a good first officer.”

“Oh, I suspect she left that open, too, mostly for you to prove her wrong.” Ro offered an encouraging smile. “Listen, during our last mission into the Delta Quadrant, our first officer was a man named Zar Tulek. He looks like a Cardassian, even though he’s a Bajoran hybrid, so right away, a lot of us in the crew were very uncomfortable with him, even hostile, particularly me. It took a while to get past the surface to realize how outstanding an officer and person he was. Janeway may have held the same reservations, because she’s been a prisoner of the Cardassians in the past, but from the very start, she never treated him any different than the rest of her crew.”

Kelly blinked at the information about Janeway and decided that she needed to study the captain’s record a great deal more carefully. Read between the lines of the reported incidents rather than simply accept the blandly worded Starfleet documents at face value. She also wondered what her response would have been to this Zar Tulek, and realized it would have been the same as the members of the crew who would have been openly hostile. It wasn’t something she was proud of, whereas before, she might have considered it a matter of being cautious.

“Where is he now?”

“He’s the captain of Voyager.  He learned a lot from Janeway. You can, too.”

“I am trying, Ro,” Kelly admitted, somewhat bashfully. “I know that a lot of my thinking when I first came on board was pretty stupid.”

“Not stupid, just...like I said, preconceived. Get over that and you’ll be ahead of the game.”

Kelly shot her a surreptitious glance sideways.  “Why are you doing this?  You’ve been trying to help me from the moment I came on board even when I was a complete idiot.”

Ro lifted a brow, a small smile curving the corner of her mouth.  “To be honest, you kind of remind me of me, when I was your age. I was just as big an idiot, but fortunately, someone took me under his wing and believed in me. You just have to allow yourself the same opportunity."
Kelly wondered if it were really that easy.

Janeway regarded Nechayev's image on the viewscreen in her ready room, noting that there was a little static in the transmission from Earth, causing the image to resonate slightly. That was to be expected since it was being bounced through four communications relays and two different quadrants. She was suddenly reminded that it wasn't so long ago on Voyager that she would have given anything for even the most static filled communication from the Federation.

“So you believe you have a way to remove the mother creatures?” Nechayev’s blonde Slavic features were very thoughtful.

“We have a way to kill them,” Janeway corrected. “Seven…Lt. Hansen…with assistance from Dr. Kahn, has come up with a way to calibrate the sensors to pinpoint their particular bioelectrical energy patterns, which differ from the drones. By targeting those patterns on the planet, we can transmit a plasma based signal that will disrupt their biomolecular fields and kill them instantly, unfortunately, killing their hosts as well. In turn, their particular colony of drones will be nullified, forcing them out of their respecitve hosts. But the question is not can we do it, Admiral, the question is should we?”

“You have some philosophical objection?” Nechayev sounded unpleasantly surprised.  “It’s not as if the hosts of the mother creatures are still…” She trailed off, searching for the appropriate word. “Viable once infested. These things grow, eating away at the body and mine until there’s nothing left. Only the drones seem able to live inside a humanoid without permanent harm.”

“Perhaps, but according to the findings of the away team I sent down to the planet, the hosts chosen by the mother creatures are inevitably crucial people in the planet’s governing body. Are we prepared to disrupt this society’s ruling structure and leave them to deal with the aftermath? That doesn’t sound like any Federation policy of which I’m aware.”

There was a pause and then Nechayev almost, but not quite, sighed. “No, it’s not. Very well, Captain, I’ll leave it in your capable hands. But also be aware that we want to cement ties with the Confederacy.  Take under careful consideration any assistance they may request.”

Janeway had no problem translating that one. If Jiidan requested that they use the method to wipe out the parasites, along with all the innocent hosts, leaving the planet below in chaos, Starfleet would prefer she do so, though they would stand by any decision she made.

Wearily, she leaned back against the cushions of her chair, staring at the viewscreen that now held the wreath and planet insignia of the Federation, indicating the transmission had ended. It seemed to her that it used to be easier to uphold the traditions and beliefs of Starfleet. Or maybe she was just getting too old for a job that required a young and fresh viewpoint.

She smiled suddenly. You’re only as old as you feel, Katie, she reminded herself, and she knew this burden would lighten, as had so many others. She simply had to trust her instincts and go with the decision she could live with. If that didn’t jibe with Starfleet Command, well, it wouldn’t be the first time.

Reaching up, she touched the comm badge.  “Minister Jiidan, if I could see you in my ready room at your convenience?”

“Acknowledged, Captain. I’m on my way.”

As Janeway waited patiently for the Soularri representative to arrive, she stared thoughtfully at the bouquet of red roses that adorned her desk, wondering how he would react to the information she had to share with him regarding the away team’s findings.  Kelly, Ro and Wildman had transmitted their latest report only that morning and the science labs were still going over the data. The chime interrupted her musing and she lifted her head.

“Come.”

<>          Jiidan entered and immediately retrieved the cushion from near the desk, kept there for that specific purpose, and placed it on the chair, giving him some height with which to look the captain in the eye. “You have news for me, Captain Janeway?” he asked once he had settled.

“As you may or may not be aware, I’ve dispatched an away team to the surface of the planet to do some reconnaissance,” she explained pleasantly, passing over a padd with the relevant information. “We’ve been receiving regular reports of their findings and apparently, there aren’t as many parasites as we feared and even fewer of the mother creatures.”

He looked down at the data streaming across the padd he held, a frown furrowing his furry forehead.  “What are you hoping to accomplish with all this, Captain?”

“I’m not sure what you mean?”

“You know they’re a threat. Your own Federation considers them so, and in fact, sent you out to discover their origins. Why bother to study them any further? We are wasting our time searching for some area of diplomacy with these beings.  They do not negotiate their way onto other worlds. They steal in and take over the planet without the inhabitants even being aware. How will they choose to expand into worlds that know they exist? Consolidate their possessed planets and use the duped inhabitants as cannon fodder?  We need to stop them here and now, just as you declared in your conference room and I know it’s possible. I am aware your science section has come up with a way to terminate them.”

Suddenly, Jiidan no longer looked cute or cuddly, and Janeway decided that perhaps she was finally seeing the true face of the Soularri, one of immovable resolve and will. A stray thought filtered through her mind. Was this what Tazna Jade was talking about when she warned Seven not to trust them?  She knew she definitely couldn’t trust the outer appearance. After all, cute and cuddly didn’t get a species too far when surrounded by a dangerous universe.

So there was a decision to be made after all. So much for the small hope she’d been secretly nursing since sending her team down to the planet.

“What are you suggesting, Minister?”

“I’m asking if you will authorize the use of the weapon your science section has developed.  Indeed, I’m making a formal request as the representative of the Confederation of Species in reference to our mutual defense pact as laid out by the Treaty of Hearthstone.”

Janeway felt that request like a poke in the stomach, the blow mediated only by the fact that she had suspected it was coming.  “I understand, Minister Jiidan,” she said mildly. “And I will take your concerns under advisement.”

That did not satisfy him, she saw, but it was the best she was going to give him at the moment. After a few more pleasantries that possessed an edge that had not previously existed between them, he left her.  Janeway stared blankly at the doors to her ready room, feeling a muscle jump sporadically in her jaw. This was turning out to be one of those days, and it wasn’t even lunch yet. After thinking furiously for a few moments, she rose from her seat and slipped out of the ready room, glancing around the bridge. As fourth in command, B’Elanna held the command chair. Janeway exchanged a nod with her before putting out her hand to forestall her rising as she strode toward her.

“I need to speak with our guests,” she said in a low voice.

B’Elanna’s dark eyes narrowed. “With all due respect, Captain. Not alone.”

<>          Janeway’s lips twitched, amused at the proprietary tone in her chief engineer’s voice. Obviously, with Ro on the planet, B’Elanna had decided to take her place as Janeway’s unofficial bodyguard, even though as engineer, it was hardly her job. "It might be dangerous."
Dark brows lowered immediately. "When has that ever stopped me?" The tone was a mix of increduality and confusion.
"Well, perhaps you might want to sit this out." Janeway glanced down at her belly. "After all, you have larger concerns than the ship and myself."
"Ma'am," B'Elanna began and Janeway knew B'Elanna was angry indeed when she utilized that form of address. "When I can no longer do my job, I will let you know. Captain." The last word was bitten off and Janeway had to swallow back a laugh. She didn't really expect anything to happen with the delegates who had been perfectly cooperative during their time on Millennium, she was just provoking B'Elanna a little. Seven was right, it was fun, but from the reaction, it appeared she had found a rather touchy spot. Something to keep in mind.
“Then you may accompany me, Commander.” She said mildly and glanced over at the young Vulcan woman manning ops. “Lieutenant, you have the bridge.”

By this time, there was no slight widening of the eyes to indicate her controlled pleasure and surprise at being given the ship. T'Shanik had proven herself to be a competent, if quiet member of the bridge crew in her two years on Millennium. Gracefully, the slender Vulcan surrendered her post to her backup and took over the command chair as Janeway and B’Elanna exited the bridge.

In the turbolift, B’Elanna eyed the captain. “Do you really expect to get something new from them?”

“We’ve hardly had time to explore their culture, B’Elanna.”

“I’m not sure they have a culture…other than what they’ve stolen from their hosts.”

“Then perhaps that’s what we’ll find out with further discussion with them,” Janeway said dryly.

They stepped off the turbolift on deck six. Here the delegates were isolated in individual quarters so that they could not communicate with each other, particularly in the odd, screeching form they utilized that the science section had still not been able to decipher. At the second door, Janeway nodded briefly at the security guard in attendance and entered the cabin.

Inside, Trevarti looked up from the computer console where he was working and his genial features widened in a smile of welcome. Unlike the other delegates, he didn’t seem bothered by what had essentially become an imprisonment. Instead, he spent most of his time learning as much as he could about the Federation and the Confederacy. Though it bothered Janeway on a command level, making her careful about exactly what he could access, she completely understood it on another. Trevarti was a scientist first, and whatever else second. Even a parasite could not change that.

“Captain, so good to see you.”

Despite the circumstances, Janeway smiled. He was so earnest and sincere and really, the only one she enjoyed speaking with. Heirra, once the deception had been stripped away, maintained an aloof, cold manner. The others took their cue from her, but Trevarti continued to be warm and inquisitive. If it weren’t for the breathing tubule at the back of his neck, it would be difficult to believe he possessed a parasite at all.

As B’Elanna took up a position next to the door, crossing her arms over her chest and assuming her most Klingon demeanor, Janeway sat in the chair next to Trevarti. “I would like to ask you a question, and I’m wondering if I will get a response that is without para…your creature’s influence.”

Trevarti assumed a serious expression. “Captain, I want to assure you, my thoughts are my own. Over the years, my associate and I have reached a true accommodation with each other. While I admit that others had more difficulty with their merging, I embraced it, and as a result, my thoughts are truly my own.”

Janeway regarded him gravely. “You realize I have only your word for that. Or rather, your…’associate’s’ word for it.”

Trevarti laughed merrily, and that, more than anything else, gave credence to his words. The others didn’t laugh. They barely smiled. “I understand, Captain. It really is a matter of what you believe at the end of the day.”

Janeway smiled faintly and dipped her head. “I guess that’s what it always comes down to.”

“What is it you wished to ask, Captain?”

“I need to know if given an opportunity, would the Wakardi be free of their invaders?”

He lifted a brow, obviously surprised at being asked the question, but he appeared to give it every consideration.  “Most do not know of their presence, of course,” he admitted after a moment. “I would be lying if I said that the general consensus would not be one of horror and fear if they did find out. But Captain, it would be a response borne of ignorance.”  He looked at Janeway’s expression and smiled.  “I know that would be what you’d expect me to say, but honestly, you need only look at our history to see how much better off we are now.  My father and grandfather lived in the times before, and I remember stories my father told when I of being unable to do something as simple as go to the market without being shot at by the warring factions in his village.  Women and children were routinely brutalized as various tribal organizations struggled for power. Our planet was at the mercy of our savage nature, socially, economically and environmentally and it is very possible we would have destroyed ourselves. In that, Heirra did not lie.”

“But wouldn’t it be better to bring about change from within rather than it being enforced from an outside agency?”

“In an ideal universe, yes, but Wikira Prime was far from being an ideal world, Captain. We might not have survived long enough to enact positive change. Surely, you have assisted other worlds in their development during your exploration of space?”

“Our guidelines for doing so are very strict, Trevarti. In fact, we have a directive the prohibits the interference with a developing culture.”

Trevarti smiled sadly.  “And how many worlds and peoples in the Federation were lost from that lack of inaction.”

Janeway thought of Bajor, and the years it was forced to labor under the occupation of the Cardassians, of the border worlds along the Romulan Neutral Zone and other planets where Starfleet had been forced to step back from the situation rather than offer aid when empathy would have deemed it a necessity.  She believed in the Prime Directive, but she couldn’t deny that, occasionally, its opponents had a point when saying such a policy cost dearly in the suffering of innocents.

“I will think about what you said, Delegate, but I must also pay heed to the protection of others who are in no need of such interference. Your ‘associates’ do not always honor that.”

“Every species survives as it must, Captain. You may not like what form that survival takes, but if you honor a strict policy of non-interference, as you say you do, then by rights, you cannot oppose what has already happened.”

Janeway had no doubt that was, indeed, the parasite talking rather than the host, but she merely dipped her head respectfully and rose from her chair. Outside the quarters, she looked at B’Elanna who eyed her sardonically.  “Do you really believe that plasma residue?”

“I believe that he believes it, both host and parasite.”

“Well, that’s the key, isn’t it? It’s not a symbiot it’s a parasite and I doubt he was really talking at all.”

“He seems to have reached a true merging with it.” B’Elanna didn’t respond, but her expression spoke volumes. Janeway smiled and nodded up the corridor to the other quarters housing the delegates.  “I want to speak with Heirra, again.  I don’t think I’ll need you with me this time.”

“Nonetheless, Captain, I’ll hang around out here until you’re finished with her.”

Janeway resisted the urge to sigh at her crew’s overly developed protective nature, but decided it would waste more time arguing than she wanted to spend at the moment.

It was unusually dim inside the quarters housing the Wakardi diplomat and Janeway faltered just inside the entrance as the door hissed shut behind her. It took a few seconds to understand what she was actually looking at. The remains of what could only be Speaker Heirra were now splattered over an area encircling a chair in the middle of the room. It appeared as if she had sat down and simply exploded, with blood and tissue spread over the nearby table. Hand trembling, Janeway reached for her comm badge to alert security. At the same time, she felt a tickle on her ankle. Glancing down, she started abruptly as she saw movement skittering rapidly up her leg.

In the next second, the parasite was leaping toward her as she saw the walls and ceiling come alive around her with thousands more.

“They’re dying.”

Seven glanced at Lenara, then turned her attention to the container containing the parasites that had been confiscated from the Wakardi delegation. Three had already been removed. Of the four remaining, three were staggering about and one was actually upside down, legs twitching feebly in the air.

“Have you determined a cause?”

Lenara, using a silver probe, gingerly prodded the one lying on its back. “I believe that if they haven’t found a host within a certain amount of time after being spawned by the queen, then they die from starvation.  I know that we’ve been unable to find anything they’ll eat and most parasites can only process food from a host to begin with.”

Seven regarded the creatures dispassionately. They were approximately ninety millimeters in length and about fifty millimeters wide with a flexible exoskeleton that compressed when entering the body. Dual horns or mandibles sprouted from their mouthparts, supposedly to widen their passage into the host, while six legs denoted them as insectoid in nature.

“Have you discussed this with the Wakardi scientist? Perhaps he would have a suggestion on how to feed them outside a host. Trill symbionts can ingest---”

“These are not symbionts.”

Surprised, Seven lifted her head. There had been real anger in Lenara’s tone, and actual revulsion as well. Of all people, she had expected Lenara to be more accepting of the creature’s nature, though perhaps that was a bad assumption on her part. Lenara met Seven’s level look for a long moment before looking away, appearing somewhat discomforted.

“Parasites give nothing back to the host,” she added in a quieter tone. “That’s what defines them as parasites. They only take.”

Seven lifted a brow. “According to the delegation, these creatures actually stabilized their planet and prevented them from destroying themselves.”

“It’s not as if they’d say anything different, is it?” Lenara ceased poking the creature and moved over to her desk, a dissatisfied expression tightening the corners of her mouth. Intrigued at this display of uncharacteristic emotion from the Trill, Seven promptly followed, taking a seat next to her at the console. Lenara offered an annoyed look. “What?”

“Their existence troubles you,” Seven said with Borg certainty. “Why?”

Lenara frowned mightily at her, which bothered Seven not in the least, and punched savagely at the console controls. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“If it were, I would not ask the question.”

“These are everything that the Trill are not.”

Seven considered the statement, and more importantly, the tone in which it was uttered. “Yet, it is everything that was initially feared about the Trill,” she said slowly, drawing on the information that she had assimilated on her trip to that planet some years earlier. “Creatures that take over the host, influencing them to the extent that there is nothing left of the original being. Even when a successful joining occurred, there was still the suspicion by many of the Trill colonists that the host was merely a mindless drone controlled solely by the symbiont.”

From the expression on Lenara’s face, Seven believed she had pinpointed precisely what was troubling her friend. Yet, even as she studied her, she began to suspect there was more. Seven maintained her level stare, until finally Lenara let out her breath in an exasperated huff.

“So you’re saying that I’m judging these things the way people initially judged the Trill.”  She arched an eyebrow.  “I’ll point out that the Trill never tried to infiltrate the Federation Council or Starfleet Headquarters.”

“Perhaps because the Trill do not reproduce so quickly?  There are never enough symbionts for available hosts, after all.”

Lenara stared at her and Seven belatedly realized that piece of information was not public knowledge, not even to the larger percentage of the Trill homeworld.  It was a piece of data that she had acquired during her time with the Borg, undoubtedly assimilated from some high-ranking Trill government official at Wolf 359 or elsewhere during a Borg excursion to the Federation.  From her expression, Lenara somehow knew about it as well, but there was no question that she didn’t think Seven should.

“How did you---“ she began, then stopped, stymied. “It doesn’t matter. This isn’t the same thing at all.”

“Excuse me, Lt. Hansen?”

Seven, about to respond, started slightly and glanced over to see Ensign Cole approaching. An inquisitive scientist, he was also an unrepentant pursuer of gossip and rumor on the ship. After years of working closely with B’Elanna, Seven had learned the value of such behavior, so while she did not encourage it in the astrophysicist, she didn’t exactly discourage him either whenever he shared his information. Sometimes it was the only way she knew what was going on when her spouse was being particularly reticent on ship’s business. Lenara’s expression, troubled from their discussion, abruptly cleared when she saw his expression. She'd been around long enough to know when he was coming to Seven with a scientific problem, and when he was in the possession of a particularly juicy tidbit of information regarding the workings of the ship.

“What is it, Ensign?” She gave no sign of her irritation over having her conversation with Lenara interrupted.

“I happened to overhear a security transmission,” he said in a hesitant manner that made Seven frown, disturbed to discover that was how he kept up on current events. Commander Ro would be most displeased if she discovered that he was monitoring the security channels. She wondered what could be so significant that he would disclose such a resource at this time.

“Yes?”

“The Captain just sent out a call to security.  She sounded as if she was being attacked.”

Seven was on her way out the door before the words had finished echoing in her ears. “Computer, locate Captain Janeway!” she demanded as she pounded down the corridor toward the turbolift.

“Captain Janeway is on deck four, section five.”

Where the guest quarters were located.  The captain had undoubtedly initiated an encounter with the alien delegation. But what had they done to her?

She snapped out her destination as soon as she slammed into the turbolift, adding a special command code to grant it priority. The longer she was on Millennium, the more efficient she became at moving around the ship quickly and without hindrance. Even then, it seemed to take forever to ascend, and her fists clenched at her sides as she forced herself to wait.  There was a brief hesitation in its passage and a small sound escaped her lips. Her pilfered command code made the turbolift travel at a greater speed than normal, but it still had to give way to the security team making their way to the same destination. Two capsules could not exist in the same tube at the same time and hers naturally slowed to grant the security lift priority.

Frantic by the time the turbolift stopped, she squeezed out between the doors before they had finished hissing open and sprinted down the corridor. As she rounded the curve she came upon complete chaos. Things were skittering over the ceiling and walls, temporarily contained by a force field on either end of the hall. In the center of the cordoned off area, four security guards were firing their phasers at the parasites pouring out of the open door of a room but Seven only had eyes only for the two figures in the middle.

B’Elanna was bent over a huddled form, ripping away the multitude of creatures that were swarming over the compact body. Another sound, a small whimper of horror, issued from Seven and a thought to her cortical node altered her biofield, enabling her to plunge through the forcefield, though the shock made her stagger slightly. Assessing the situation swiftly, she pushed B’Elanna aside with carefully calculated force onto the deck, where she immediately let out a string of oaths that let Seven know she had not been unduly harmed. Reaching down with her left hand through the creatures to Janeway’s shoulder, she transmitted an electric pulse through the mesh implant.

<>          Janeway spasmed, jerking convulsively as the creatures, shocked into immobility, fell from her. Seven kicked away the shocked creatures and regarded Janeway, still shuddering violently, not only from the electric jolt she had received, but also from the reaction of being covered by the parasites. Her eyes and mouth were squeezed tightly shut and her hands had been covering her ears. Unfortunately, Seven knew there were other orifices in the human body that could be penetrated and she drew out her tricorder, running a complete scan on the captain. She released her breath in a silent sigh of relief when the results revealed no creature had managed to enter.

The arrival of more security officers helped contain the outbreak and force the creatures steadily back into the guest quarters. Seven helped Janeway to her feet, supporting her with an arm around her shoulders as she tottered unsteadily on trembling legs.

“What happened?”

It was B’Elanna who responded first. “Heirra exploded. When the captain called for help, I opened the door and dragged her out by the scruff of the neck.”

“You could have let them escape.” Seven knew it was fear as much as anger that sharpened Janeway’s tone. “Worse, you exposed others to infiltration.”

B’Elanna started to answer, hesitated, and then shrugged minutely. “Yes, Captain.”

“You did what I would have done,” Seven said, squeezing Janeway with subtle reproof so that the others would not see. “What any of us would have done to rescue the captain.”

Janeway’s eyes shot daggers at her, but in the next second, they softened as she looked back at her engineer. “Thank you, B’Elanna. Are you injured?”

“I’m fine. I need to get back to engineering.” B’Elanna offered a smile and started to back away.

“Wait.” Propping Janeway up against the bulkhead, Seven took a step toward B’Elanna, tricorder extended as she scanned her.

The readings on the small screen registered with Seven at the exact same time B’Elanna’s eyes narrowed and she lunged between two security guards, tossing them aside.  Seven regretfully dropped the tricorder onto the deck, having no time to secure it, and sprang after her, seizing her by the arm. Immediately, B’Elanna turned, lips drawn back in a fury, and Seven found she suddenly had her hands full. She knew the creatures somehow boosted the strength of their hosts and B’Elanna’s Klingon heritage already made her considerably stronger than most. In the background, she could hear Janeway shouting orders and, from the corner of her eye, saw the security guards jockeying into position around them in an effort to get a clear shot with their phasers. Her full attention was on B’Elanna’s attack, keenly aware that she could not utilize her own Borg-enhanced prowess as freely as she would normally. There was not only B’Elanna’s well being to take into consideration, but also that of the fetus developing within her abdomen.

“Seven, try to subdue her.”

”I am endeavoring to do so, Captain.” Irritation made her tone sharp and if she could have spared a glance at Janeway as she grappled with B’Elanna, it would have been one of sheer exasperation.

Finally, she had the opening she was looking for. A lunge, an abrupt feint, and then she used her greater weight to take B’Elanna to the deck, arm caught behind her, face pressing down against the low carpet. B'Elanna's head was forced to the right, allowing her long, dark hair to fall to the side, revealing the back of her neck. A small tubule quivered through the olive skin and Seven, crouched above her as she pinned her down, frowned at how quickly the creatures were able to invade and take over the host.

“Take her to sickbay.”

Carefully, Seven released her friend into the custody of M’Reek and his security team who escorted her to the medical center where, hopefully, they would be able to remove the creature using the method developed by the science department. The corridor was unnaturally quiet after everyone had dispersed to their assignments, including a doubled guard on the surviving delegates.

Seven looked the captain over, assessing her body language.  “Are you undamaged, Kathryn?”

Janeway’s brow had been furrowed, her jaw set as she undoubtedly thought about what this new development meant. She started slightly at Seven’s question and lifted her gaze to meet her eyes, managing a small smile. “Other than being electrocuted, I’m fine. I admit it was a bit sticky for a moment there, but B’Elanna didn’t waste any time in hauling me out, even if it allowed the others to escape. Fortunately, she activated the force fields in the corridor first. It was quick thinking on her part.”

“B’Elanna is competent, if impetuous. In any event, if she had not acted so quickly, you would have been the one infested.”

A slight shudder rippled through her and Seven took a step closer, concerned. Janeway held up a hand, indicating she was all right. “It just…I think I’d prefer to be assimilated to that.”

Seven lifted a brow, suspecting that Janeway was exaggerating. Neither was particularly pleasant. “What now?”

<>          “Now I have some decisions to make, and I’m not sure how much this event is going to influence them.”  She shook her head fretfully and touched her comm badge.  “Lt. T'Shanik, contact the away team. I want them back on the ship now!”

“Are you sure about this?”

Ro glanced at her, a thin smile edging her lips. “You worried?”

Keira took a long, slow breath.  ‘Worried’ didn’t begin to convey her state of mind. When Ro came up with the plan to infiltrate the government buildings in the largest city on the planet, Keira allowed it was a good idea, but now that they were actually implementing it, she was having a few second thoughts.

“Just being pragmatic.”

Ro laughed quietly. “Pragmatism doesn’t work well in this kind of procedure. In fact, if you had any kind of common sense at all, you wouldn’t be doing it in the first place.”

“Thanks for reminding me.” She made a face. “I guess I just don’t like being out of contact with the ship.”

“It’s not as if we can afford to have Millennium contact us in the middle of an operation. It’s outbound communications only. Lt. Wildman will be waiting for our call when we’re clear.”

“Assuming we get clear,” Kiara mumbled.

“Are you always such an optimist?”

“Not at all. Expecting the worst is what kept me alive during the war.”

“Fair enough.”

The pair was standing in an alcove across the street from the main building of the governmental complex. There didn’t seem to be much in the way of patrolling guards nor were there any indications of a sophisticated security system. That didn’t mean they could just walk in, though that was essentially Ro’s plan. The security chief expected that the artificial tubule in the back of her neck would get her through anything dicey. Keira didn’t know if she had a lot of faith in that assumption, but she didn’t say anything as she followed Ro across the thoroughfare and up the stairs to the large cement building.

Inside, it was cool and dim, their boots echoing slightly on the hard, polished floor. Several individuals passed them but no one seemed to take note of the two purposefully striding women and, gradually, Keira started to relax. The easiest way to infiltrate anywhere was to look as if one totally belonged, particularly in a bureaucratic society and she supposed that was holding true in this case. Her tentative confidence faltered, however, when she saw the checkpoint at the far end of the hall. Ro didn’t alter stride. She merely continued on her path and Keira had no choice but to keep up.

The guards watched them approach but did not seem unduly apprehensive. They were dressed in the black uniforms edged in gold trim of the government law enforcement agency. Ro paused and regarded them expectantly. “Yes?”

“Your purpose?” The larger one frowned slightly, but both maintained reasonably pleasant expressions.  Perhaps because they didn’t know with whom they were dealing and weren’t quite ready to commit to something that could get them in trouble later.

Ro tilted her head forward, making the back of her neck visible. “I have an appointment,” she said in an inflection that mixed boredom and slight irritation.

It was exactly the right tone to take and at the sight of the tubule, the guards both straightened and fixed their stares straight ahead. Obviously, they were aware of what the tubules signified. Keira couldn’t begin to guess how Ro would know they would, but after a slight hesitation, she scurried after Ro as she strode regally past the guards and into the inner chambers of the government building.

It was quieter here with fewer people visible, which would only serve to make them more noticeable. It made Kelly nervous though she could only hope she was hiding it, not only for her own protection, but because she didn’t want to seem so green to Ro. It did occur to her that she had nurtured the fond belief that she was actually good at these kinds of things. In fact, she thought she had been good at a lot of things before she had boarded Millennium. Now she was discovering just how much she had to learn which, she supposed, was why Nechayev had posted her to the ship in the first place.

The knowledge still didn’t make the whole situation go down any easier, but it did make it less difficult to do her job at this point, unlike her first few months on the ship.

They passed one final clerk in the corridor, then Ro drifted over to a dark stained wooden door. On the plaque beside it was the name of one of the more important government officials on the planet. Fortunately, both women knew exactly where she was at the moment...on board Millennium and thus, they were unlikely to be interrupted. After glancing both ways to make sure the coast was clear, Ro fumbled at the latch. Except she wasn’t fumbling, Kelly realized. There was some kind of device in her hand and, in the next second, the door clicked open. Ro eased through it into Heirra's empty office with Kelly on her heels. Shutting it firmly behind her, she secured it with the same device.

“Didn’t realize you were so adept at B&E,” Kelly remarked.

Ro flashed a smile, a glint of white in the dim illumination. “You’d be amazed at what one picks up in a Bajoran refugee camp.”

While Kelly contemplated that, Ro moved swiftly to a desk in the corner where a viewscreen sat.  Unlike those on Millennium, this one was not voice activated. Ro actually had to sit down and manipulate some kind of manual control panel full of little buttons. Taking up a position behind Ro, Kelly watched over her left shoulder as Ro swiftly brought up file after file.

“This would be quicker if we had Lt. Hansen here,” she remarked.

“Not with this,” Ro corrected in an absent tone as she typed.  She inclined her head at a rectangular box tucked under the desk. “There’s no interface available for her to utilize her tubules. The storage device is far too primitive for her to access.”  Then, after a second, she frowned and lifted her head. “I was unaware that you knew about Seven’s abilities in that area.”

Kelly shrugged slightly. “I’ve been going over the files from Millennium’s first year. It’s been…informative.”

“I bet it has.” Ro intensified her focus on the screen, her expression settling into professional impassiveness, but Kelly could hear the smile in her tone. The smile was completely gone with her next words. “Prophets!”

“What is it?” Kelly leaned closer but was unable to figure out what Ro was seeing before she began explaining it all to her.

“Over the past twenty years, they’ve channeled most of the planet's resources into building interstellar vessels.”

“We know that,” Kelly said.  “That’s why we were able to contact them.  Otherwise the Prime Directive would have forbidden it.”

“No, I'm saying that they’ve been building a lot of them. They’re hidden in the mountain ranges outside the city and according to this, ready to launch at a moment's notice.”  Ro paused, rapidly reading the text on the screen. “This can only mean one thing. They’re about to swarm.  Millennium’s arrival just meant an opportunity to spread further faster if they were able to take our ship to add to their armada.”

“We need to tell the captain.”

Kelly made a step toward the door when, suddenly, it flew open to reveal two, very powerful looking Wakardi males dressed in city guard uniforms. Black, metallic and thoroughly dangerous looking weapons were hefted in their direction and he sight of the muzzles yawning before her made Kelly pause. Fortunately, Ro didn’t. She picked up the viewscreen and heaved it at them, ducking behind the desk in the next second. The viewscreen, connected by cables to the box, made a parabolic arch and crashed to the floor well short of the doorway, but it was enough to make them flinch. That extra second allowed Kelly to dive behind the couch. Well aware that once committed to an action, no hesitation could be allowed, both women then rose with phasers in hand and stunned the two men.

The shriek of an alarm system went off and shouts from down the hall indicated they were well and truly discovered.
“Come on,” Ro ordered, picking up the chair she’d been using and tossing it through the nearest window which shattered with a satisfying racket.  Kelly used her cloak to sweep away the remaining pieces of glass and stepped through it, straddling the frame. She glanced back in time to see Ro reset her phaser and fire at the desk. It immediately exploded into flames, sending burning embers of shrapnel around the room where more fires started to smolder.

“Cover,” Ro explained shortly as she joined Kelly at the window. She glanced out. “Damn.”

They were four stories up, and what seemed like an army of guards were racing across the square toward their position.  Projectiles began to strike the façade of the building around them, gouging out large divots of concrete. Hastily, Kelly ducked back into the room that was rapidly filling with smoke.

“How do we get out? The door’s blocked by the guards and more are on the way.”  She was proud that her voice was cool and composed, indicating none of the panic that was running around in circles in her head, gibbering loudly.

“Quit thinking two dimensionally,” Ro instructed, just as if they were in some Academy class on security measures.

She adjusted her phaser yet again and pointed at her feet. A fine, golden line of power cut into the carpet and she ran the beam like a fine stylus around her, cutting a circle into the flooring. The circular chunk of concrete and wood dropped down to the floor beneath with a loud clatter as Ro followed it lithely down through the small opening. Hoping there was no one waiting below, Kelly followed suit, discovering belatedly that the security chief hadn't quite made the hole big enough.
Damnit, not everyone's a stick like you, Ro. Jammed around the chest, Kelly cursed silently as she wiggled and squirmed, kicking wildly. Finally, aided by a judicious yank from beneath, she managed to squeeze through and dropped to the floor where she absorbed the shock of her fall on bent knees.

“Took you long enough," Ro said waspishly. "Why didn't you cut your own hole?"
Kelly gritted her teeth. "Where to, now?" she demanded, rather than say what she wanted. Glancing around at the shining tiles and fixtures, she realized they were in a restroom of some sort.
Ro whipped off her cloak. “Get rid of these.”

Kelly obeyed, stuffing the material in a waste disposal unit in the corner, turning around in time to see Ro pull the artificial tubule from the back of her neck before she moved over to the door where she glanced out cautiously.  There were a significant amount of people rushing through the corridor, obviously being evacuated from the building. As unobtrusively as possible, the two women joined them. Fire alarms were clanging loudly in addition to the initial intruder alarm and the noise of people crying out in confusion and dismay added greatly to the din.

Kelly didn’t breathe any easier when they were outside in the plaza. People milled around without direction and the women had to work their way through the throng, trying not to rush and draw any attention from the various, dark clad officers searching the crowd.  Finally, they broke free into an alleyway bordering the plaza.

“We were lucky,” Ro murmured as they trotted along the walkway bordered by high windowless buildings. “They’re not used to crime on this planet and even less inclined to expect anyone to break into the parasites' part of the building. Their security methods are designed to add more to the confusion, rather than work efficiently.”

“There were enough guards around,” Kelly reminded her, still a little shaky, “with really big guns.”

“Too used to civilian service,” Ro said disdainfully.  “They should have shot us the second they came through the door instead of trying to take us prisoner. We were clearly intruding in a very sensitive area. Amateurs.”

Kelly wasn’t sure why Ro seemed disdainful of not being shot to death but she accepted that her professional attitude had been offended.  In any event, it didn’t require a return comment and she picked up her pace as they headed back to the hotel where Lt. Wildman was waiting for them.

“Are they back on board?”

“Aye, Captain.”

Janeway frowned, fingers tightening on the armrests of her command chair. It sounded as if there had been a bit of excitement on the surface but she’d have to wait for Ro's breifing before she had the whole story. It was a relief to have her people back and the Wakardi delegation off her ship. They had been beamed back to Wikira Prime at the same time the away team was beaming up. The last of the parasites spawned by Heirra had simply been beamed out of the guest quarters and into the unforgiving vacuum of space

“Take us out of orbit. Position us around the fifth planet in the system for the time being.”

“Aye, Captain.”

As Nog maneuvered her ship out of the circumference of Wikira Prime, Janeway’s eyes swept the bridge, taking note of T’Shanik’s quiet presence at ops and M’Reek handling the tactical console competently. Nonetheless, she knew she wouldn’t feel one hundred percent comfortable until her senior officers back on the bridge. As she waited for Ro and Kelly to discard their disguises, she found herself tapping the comm control.

“Bridge to Seven of Nine.”

“Seven here.”

“Please report to the conference room.”

“Understood.”

She glanced over at T’Shanik.  “I want you and Nog to join us in the conference room, Lieutenant. M’Reek, please advise the rest of the senior staff to meet us there.”

A thin eyebrow lifted slightly, but T’Shanik merely inclined her head and transmitted a request for her backup as Janeway rose from the command chair and strode briskly for the conference room. Inside, she took her place at the head of the table, waiting patiently for the others. As the junior officers found their seats, Ro, Kelly and Wildman arrived from sickbay, accompanied by Dr. Pulaski and Kes. Shortly after, B’Elanna made her way up from engineering. Seven was the last to arrive and pointedly ignored the admonishing look from her spouse. Janeway concluded that she must have had a good reason to be so delayed, though sometimes Seven’s reasons did not always concur with the captain’s opinion of 'good'.

“Commander Kelly, please report on the away team’s mission,” she ordered once everyone had settled in.

She remained silent as Kelly told them about the planetary culture and the little adventure they had enjoyed toward the end...though hearing about the breakout of the government building by going through the floor made it somewhat difficult not to comment. Certainly, B’Elanna took the opportunity to mutter something about ‘a certain person’ enjoying herself far too much while out of sight. Ro merely smiled faintly and maintained her attention on Kelly.

Janeway noted with approval that Kelly delivered her report concisely. There were no elaborations on anything that happened; yet everything was covered in detail. She had come a long way from the sullen, prickly officer that boarded the ship back in the Alpha Quadrant. When she had finished, Janeway stood up and filled the away team in on the events that had happened regarding Heirra, including her near miss and B’Elanna’s close encounter with alien parasites. Beyond a certain tightening of her lips, Ro didn’t react, but Janeway suspected she would have a great deal to say once the meeting was over. After she had finished bringing everyone up to date, she linked her fingers and rested her hands on the table in front of her, exhaling slowly.

“At this point, we have to consider our next move. Jiidan has made a formal request as per the treaty recently signed between the Confederacy and  the Federation. Do we utilize the process devised by the science section to separate the parasites from their hosts, or do we accept that this is not a situation in which we should interfere? Comments, suggestions?”

There was a brief pause as they absorbed the information, some looking down at their padds to make sure they had all the pertinent details. Kelly was the first to speak.

“We know they’re about to swarm. The information Commander Ro uncovered indicates that other planets and other cultures are at risk. How we can stand by and allow it to happen when we have the capability to prevent it?”

“Forget the parasites for a moment,” Ro added in a reasonable tone. “Suppose we had discovered the Wakardi were planning to invade the Confederacy on their own. Can we remain uninvolved and still honor the treaty?”

“Ah, but we’re not dealing with one species here,” Pulaski said. “We’re dealing with two, and one is as sentient as the other. The only way to stop them will be to commit genocide, at least as far as this world is concerned. There will be no survivors. The queens will die immediately, and the drones will perish soon after.”

“This isn’t the entire species,” B’Elanna argued. “This is an invasion force that took over a planet and is now going to use that people as shock troops as they expand. This isn’t the Wakardi choosing to invade, this is the parasites.”

“But if we disrupt the parasites, we disrupt their entire society,” Kes interjected in her low, musical tone. “It’s not feasible for us to offer assistance in the aftermath. Our mission in the beta quadrant is almost at an end.”

“Why don’t we just destroy their ships?” Nog piped up. “Then they wouldn’t be able to invade other worlds. A warning buoy will keep any other vessels from entering the system and providing a way to expand.”

“That would only be a temporary solution,” B’Elanna pointed out. “Once the technology is known, then it can’t be repressed forever.”

“What are the ethical considerations, here?” Kes leaned forward, brow furrowed.  “Do we have the right to interfere in the way they conduct their culture? Regarding either species?”

“If we don’t, what are the ethical considerations in allowing some other species be invaded and conquered?” Ro responded.

Janeway let the various viewpoints wash over her as her senior staff argued all aspects of the issue. No one was bringing up anything that she hadn’t already considered. Normally hearing her staff hash out a problem solidified her own decision-making process, but in this case, an acceptabe compromise continued to elude her. It wasn’t a matter of right and wrong, or even wrong and less wrong. Both choices seemed equally bad and she wondered if she’d end up flipping a coin.

She lifted her gaze, meeting the cool blue eyes of her spouse sitting at the other end of the table. Seven was not offering much to the discussion beyond responding to any queries regarding the actual process involved in destroying the parasites. Janeway suspected she would have to corner Seven later in their quarters to get at the truth behind that impassive expression.

“What about the average citizen who has no idea what’s going on but whose entire life is going to be turned upside down when we destroy their government?”

Pulaski was getting a bit heated and Janeway glanced at her with a bit of amusement, remembering all too often that temper and sarcastic tone bestowed upon her at the Academy where the doctor had been one of her professors. Still, one shouldn’t win an argument just by being louder, and she spared a warning look in her direction. To her surprise, Pulaski caught it, inclined her head slightly and moderated her tone.

“There’s a big picture here, and we need at analyze all aspects of it, not just the short term gains. Once it’s done, we can leave the system but they have to live with the consequences.”

“Perhaps it is not our responsibility," T'Shanik said suddenly.

“Elaborate,” Seven requested politely, if emphatically, saving Janeway from having to do it.

“This is the Beta Quadrant. It’s the Confederation Ambassador who's requesting intervention. Logically, it is the Confederation who must aid in the recovery process. It is their solely responsibility.”

Janeway appreciated the sentiment, but in the end, she knew that wasn't true. Her crew would not provide the Confederation with the process created to disrupt the parasites’ hold on their hosts without her authorization. That really didn’t change no matter how they approached the situation, so she supposed that she was just making time here hoping against hope that somehow, someone would come up with a comment or suggestion that would make her choice crystal clear, that would make the decision an acceptable one.

“We would not be having this discussion if this was an assimilated planet.”

Immediately, everyone turned to stare at Seven, such was the power in her quiet words.
“Members of Starfleet have risked lives and ships to not only rescue individuals, but to prevent them from assimilating more. If there existed a swift and efficient method to block the Collective from their drones, to remove implants without long term damage, it would be used without hesitation, even if millions resided on the planet. There is no question that the Collective is sentient, but their method of expansion is unacceptable to all other lifeforms. The only difference here is the scope and method of the expansion process, not the type of expansion itself.”

There was pause in the discussion, and on the faces of Pulaski and Kes, troubled expressions...although neither gave voice to their doubts. Janeway regarded her spouse with gratitude. This was an argument that she could accept. Her opinion and her past actions involving the Borg were clear in her mind. The fact that she could have a philosophical discussion with a host...or drone...did not alter the fact that he had not chosen to be a host in the first place. He had been invaded by another species and forced to accede to their needs and demands.

She cleared her throat. Immediately, everyone focused on her, and she assumed her most confident command expression. “I've heard all your recommendations and will take them under advisement. And I thank you for your insight and compassion regarding this issue.” She dipped her chin. “Dismissed.”

The junior officers vacated as soon as possible, eager to get back to their posts. Pulaski and Kes remained troubled but quietly gathered their padds before leaving the room. Ro and B’Elanna immediately went to each other and exited with heads bent together in intense conversation, too quiet for Janeway to catch. Kelly merely looked weary as she slipped her padd under her arm, nodded briefly to the captain, and left. Janeway decided she would grant the away team a couple of days off in the wake of their mission, but it would have to wait until they had left the system.

Janeway smiled faintly at Seven who had remained behind. “Yes, Lieutenant?”

Seven’s eyes narrowed marginally. “You have already made your decision. You do not need to take anything ‘under advisement’.” They were not questions, merely statements of fact that indicated she had lost none of her ability, despite their recent estrangement, to read Janeway as easily as she did the information on the padd in front of her.

“In this instance, you’re right. Your comments clarified a great deal for me.” She smiled warmly at her.

“Thank you.”

“I will make it a condition to Jiidan that in exchange for utilizing this technique, he and his government will have to dispatch some ships to aid in the recovery of Wakardi. I won’t give the order to proceed until I know those ships are on the way.”

“And the invasion vessels that have been cached in the mountains?”

Janeway blinked. “Without the parasites needing to swarm, they probably won’t be used.”

“Are you so certain of that?”

Janeway suddenly felt a pang of foreboding. “Why?”

“According to their history, the Wakardi are extremely aggressive and volatile in nature. Now that they have interstellar travel and no longer have any kind of moderating influence from the parasites, will they return to that behavioral tendency?”

“I rather hope they’ve learned something in the last fifty years,” Janeway said, somewhat testily.

“Indeed.”  Seven smiled faintly. “Perhaps they have learned that it is better to be the aggressor than the victim. And perhaps the Confederacy will learn that the immediate solution against one enemy may not be best if it creates yet another.”

Inside their quarters, Seven tossed a salad and covertly observed Janeway who was sitting on the sofa, her feet up on the coffee table, her head fallen back with her eyes closed. Her uniform tunic had been tossed aside on the chair, and her boots lay askew on the deck beneath her legs. The past few days had been busy, with Jiidan contacting the Confederacy for aid vessels and the science section preparing the procedure for removing the parasites from their hosts. When it was time for the order to be carried out, the only overt reaction came from the planetary news agencies. Their headlines read that a ‘mysterious disease’ had afflicted several members in the government, leaving hundreds dead though thousands had recovered.

Officials from the lower echelons of the political body took up the slack, and if there was a bit of chaos in the larger cities, it appeared manageable to the remaining government officials. But there was still no revelation about the parasites to the public at large, and Seven wondered who had decided to keep the secret and why. Was it merely to prevent panic, or was it possible that some of the parasites survived? Millennium's sensors hadn’t detected any, but perhaps there was a way to disguise the signature and one of the hosts had utilized it.

She realized that she had stopped stirring and forced herself to resum her food preparation, making sure the lettuce was evenly covered with the dressing just the way Janeway liked it. If there were more parasites, it would have to be up to the Confederacy to deal with them. Millennium had gone as far as this mission would allow and now it was time to return to their entry point into the Beta Quadrant. After they dropped off Jiidan, they would jump back to the Federation and begin preparation for a new mission in another quadrant. She stole another glance at Janeway. Perhaps that was contributing to the weariness that plagued her spouse. Perhaps a bit of diversion to shake off Janeway's remaining worries was in order.

Putting aside the salad beneath a stasis wrap to keep it fresh, Seven went over to where her spouse reclined on the cushions.  Putting a hand on either side of Janeway’s shoulders for support, Seven leaned down and covered her mouth with her own, kissing her lightly. Janeway made a small sound at the back of her throat, a tiny hum of pleasure as she returned the kiss with interest.

“Mmm, what about dinner?”

“Are you so very hungry?” Seven drew back slightly to look into the eyes shading to blue.

Janeway smiled slowly, lips drawing back from her teeth in an expression that was both sensual and appreciative. “Perhaps not so much for food at the moment.”

Seven leaned down once more, her kisses becoming deeply passionate but when Janeway reached for her tunic, she pulled away. “Be still.”

Janeway lifted a brow, but her smile widened. “Is that a suggestion?” Her voice had become silky. “Lieutenant?”

“A command,” Seven corrected firmly. She saw the small shiver that went through Janeway in response to the hard note that she injected into her tone and repressed the urge to smile. “Do not resist.”

“Because it’s futile?”

“Of course.”

“Then I shan’t.” Janeway raised her arms and slipped them around Seven’s neck. “Is this all right?”

“It is permitted.”

Janeway kissed her lightly. “And this?”

Seven eyed her suspiciously.  “You are resisting. That it is subtle is irrelevant.”

“Ah, but subtle has always been my best tactic against the Borg.” Then before Seven quite realized it, the captain utilized a sneaky bit of leverage, flipped her over onto the couch and immediately straddled her, pinning her to the cushions. Perplexed that their positions had reversed so quickly and easily, Seven gazed up into the triumphant expression. Janeway lifted a brow. “But sometimes, one has to be a little less subtle.”

Seven tensed slightly, wondering if she should test the hold on her before remembering that Janeway had been somewhat passive in their lovemaking since they had reconciled. It was possible that Janeway was merely asserting herself once more, confident that Seven was truly hers. Perhaps it was time for Seven to acknowledge and accept this display of possessiveness as Janeway had accepted hers so many times in recent weeks.

She relaxed, wondering what her spouse had in mind. From the surprised expression that rippled over Janeway’s face at her abrupt submission, it was clear she didn’t have anything particular in mind and Seven laughed softly.  “Kathryn, I am yours. Do as you will.”

Janeway grinned ruefully and let go of Seven’s shoulders in order to cup her face in her palms. “You know me so well, darling.” She kissed her with abject tenderness, fingers sliding up to tangle in her hair, loosening from the bun and letting flow free over the arm of the sofa. “And I love you so much.”

Seven let her body answer, slipping her arms around her and drawing Janeway's body down against her, delighting in its soft weight and rounded curves. Tugging the sweater free from the dark trousers, Seven reached beneath it to touch the skin of Janeway's back, soft and smooth. Massaging the muscles there, she slowly and gently pinpointed a few of the tighter places and smoothed out the tiny knots. Janeway groaned appreciatively against her lips, her tongue moving against Seven’s, tasting her sweetly.

“Sit up,” Seven whispered.

Pulling the sweater over Janeway’s head, she tossed it on the deck, and then quickly removed her bra. Fingertips stroked lightly over the slope of her breasts, teasing the tips, firm little swirls around the velvet soft skin. Janeway exhaled audibly and whimpered a little, eyes closed as she concentrated on the sensation. Seven took her time, knowing how much Janeway enjoyed this caress, then lifted up so that she could enhance the pleasure with her mouth, nibbling gently.

Before long, Janeway was wrestling off Seven’s uniform, as well as the rest of her own, until they were both naked, bodies entwined on the sofa. Seven was almost dizzy as she kissed her, fully involved with tasting and touching her, loving how the way her skin slid over her own.  Janeway rose briefly, breathing heavily as she looked down at Seven.

“Do you remember on Voyager how Jake would always interrupt us on the sofa?”

Seven looked at her oddly. “You are thinking of Jake now?”

Janeway laughed. “Sorry, darling, it just popped into my head.”

“Obviously, I am not providing enough of a focus for you,” Seven murmured, reaching down to fondle her with precise intent. “I shall rectify that immediately.”

Slipping over the firm ridge, hot and slick, Seven knew this was the best way to drive all distractions from Janeway’s mind. Manipulating it forcefully, she felt Janeway tremble against her, muttering words, occasionally profane, about how good it felt and how much she loved what Seven did to her. Nothing new, certainly, but definitely appreciated, particularly since the increasing vulgarity of the comments allowed Seven to judge quite accurately when Janeway reached her peak, even if the abrupt shudders of her body were as revealing as her incoherence.

“Oh, darling.” Her forehead fell onto Seven’s shoulder. “You overwhelm me.”

“Acceptable.”

Janeway chuckled and kissed her neck, moving up over her chin and to her mouth where she kissed her deeply. Her hands moved over Seven’s body, probing those sensitive areas, stroking with knowing skill, building her desire. “Roll over,” she whispered hotly into her ear.

Intrigued, Seven did so as Janeway rose to allow her movement. Lying on her stomach, Seven moaned softly as Janeway lay on top of her, kissing her neck and shoulder blades, then trailing down the ridge of her spine. Seven caught her breath as Janeway found a cushion and slipped it underneath her stomach, lifting her hips. Skilled hands moved over Seven's buttocks, squeezing gently before dipping down to touch the wetness between her legs. Groaning, Seven spread her thighs farther apart, allowing Janeway full access to her intimate region. Her body ached in anticipation as she felt gentle fingers on her, rubbing over  and into her pool of moisture with tender intensity. Seven felt so exposed in this position, so vulnerable to her spouse, and Janeway knew it, murmuring words of love and desire as she stroked her, whispering how much she loved and wanted her. No profanity now, just words as gentle as the touch that probed carefully at her rear orifice, brushing against it, encouraging it to open for her.

Then she felt Janeway enter her, the long, slender digits thrusting with controlled force, and she cried out, muffling the sound in the upholstery of the sofa. At the same time, Janeway’s other hand came into play, fondling Seven firmly, fingertips moving over her clit in rhythm to the fingers flexing within her. Seven grabbed convulsively at the cushion beneath her, clutching it as the pleasure rose in ever increasing waves and feeling it tear beneath the mesh of her left hand. She resisted her climax for as long as she could, wanting to prologue the pleasure before finally, irresistibly, it swept over her. And as she peaked, her enjoyment was enhanced with the amazement that for all her precise control over her body, far superior to what a human's would be, she was completely helpless beneath Janeway’s touch.

She rolled over after Janeway carefully withdrew, pulling her down on top of her, wanting and needing to feel the weight of her body on top of her own and for the next ten minutes, did nothing more than kiss each other softly and sweetly, loving each other in the warm afterglow.

“Do you still wish Jake were here?” Seven asked finally.

“I didn’t say I wished he was here, merely that making love on the couch brings back some painful memories,” Janeway protested as she settled against Seven, cocooned between her body and the back of the sofa.  “In fact, I’m very glad he’s not here because this was wonderful. You make me feel so good.”  She lifted her hand and rested her fingertips against Seven’s chin as she looked at her.  “But I do wonder what brought this on. You’re not usually so amorous before dinner.”

“You appeared as if you required diversion,” Seven admitted.

Startled, Janeway let out a short bark of laughter. “I did? I must cultivate that look for the future.”

Seven ran her fingers through Janeway’s hair, studying her face intently. “I rather you would not. It was a sad look.”

“Oh.” Janeway looked thoughtful, clearly trying to remember what she was thinking about prior to Seven’s approach. “I suppose it was, a little. I know I made the right decision today, but the good doctor was correct with her comments about the aftermath. I don’t have to live with it. The Wakardi do.”

“That is a false assessment. You always live with your decisions, occasionally to your detriment.”

“You make it sound as if I second guess myself.”

“No, but you are compassionate and possess empathy for your enemies as you do for your friends. It allows you to immediately acknowledge the consequences of your actions.” Seven glanced at her, a sideways look from the corner of her eye.  “I, on the other hand, possess no empathy for my enemies."
"Yes, I've seen that with Species 8472," Janeway said, her tone somewhat dry.
Seven's optical implant lifted slightly. "It is my belief that destroying the parasites was the correct thing to do.”

“You feel that strongly about it? You didn’t really indicate it in the staff meeting.”

“I do not feel that strongly about it, but I was convinced from the beginning that the parasites, like the Borg, are incapable of such traits as mercy or compassion. They understand only survival. Everything else is irrelevant.”

Janeway drew her fingers down Seven’s chest, in the valley between her breasts and down to her stomach where she placed her hand flat on the abdominal muscles, spreading her fingers. Seven felt the warmth of it spread pleasantly through her belly, rekindling a lazy flame of desire that she considered indulging, though she suspected Janeway would be more interested in dinner at this point.

“Why didn’t you mention this before?”

Seven considered her answer. “We both agree that I can influence your command more than anyone else on the ship. Since our recent…difficulties…I am increasingly aware of it, and more reluctant to avail myself of it.”

Janeway rubbed her cheek against Seven’s collarbone, the tactile sensation very pleasant for the Borg. “I always want and need your opinion, darling. Don’t ever hold back on that.”

Seven nodded. “As I mentioned, I did not feel that strongly about it. I would have supported either decision you made.”

Janeway started to say something, paused and finally nodded. “That’s all I need to know, love.”

Seven pulled her closer and kissed her, running her tongue over her bottom lip. “May I delay dinner yet again?”

Janeway looked surprised, but pleased as well. “I wasn’t aware I needed another diversion.”

“Perhaps I require it.”

Janeway nuzzled her neck. “Then, by all means, darling, let me divert you.”

Janeway wiped a bit of Caesar dressing from the corner of her mouth and slid her empty plate aside. It was deep into the beta shift and they were eating while dressed in robes, their uniforms still scattered over the living area. Across the table, Seven ate in precise, small bites, consuming her salad with little expression. Rising from the table, Janeway took her plate over to the counter and retrieved the main course, a four cheese ravioli in a sun dried tomato sauce with chunks of peppers, onions and mushrooms for texture. She suspected she would regret eating so much this late at night, but her earlier exertions combined with delaying dinner had left her extremely hungry.

She brought over a plate for Seven as well, seeing that she was almost finished her first course, and resumed her seat at the table. “You never did tell me why you needed a diversion,” she said conversationally as she speared a flavorful square and brought it to her mouth.

Seven glanced at her, her optical implant lifting slightly. “Do I require a reason?”

“Not if you don’t want to tell me.

“That implies I have a reason. Perhaps I do not have one. Perhaps I merely wished to make love.”

“Ah. Well, I’m certainly not going to complain about that.”
There was a pause as Seven slipped aside her salad plate and started in on her pasta. Janeway observed her covertly, waiting patiently as she enjoyed her dinner.

“I will be glad to return to Earth,” Seven said finally, tentatively, and in a tone that indicated she didn’t feel sure of her feelings or where they were coming from.

“It’s been a tough mission,” Janeway agreed quietly.

“I miss Gretchen and Phoebe and Jake. Will we have a six month leave this time rather than only a three month reprieve?”

This wasn’t like Seven, but Janeway did allow that the last couple of months had been more difficult than normal. She knew she was still tender from it so it wasn’t surprising that Seven was as well. She reached across the table and entwined her fingers with Seven's, stroking the back of her hand with her thumb. Part of being sent out early after the last mission was to get them away back into space and away from the Orion Syndicate, though Headquarter's decision had accomplished little but made a target of Janeway's family. It had also worn a bit on the crew. A six-month leave was the least Starfleet could do for them.

“I’ll make sure of it,” she promised. She squeezed Seven’s figures lightly. “We’ll spend the first month on a deserted island catching up, just you and me.”

Seven smiled briefly. “Only a month?”

“Maybe two or three.” Janeway tilted her head, sobering. “Darling, what’s really bothering you? Please, tell me.”

Seven shook her head, frustration edging her expression. “I am not entirely sure, Kathryn. I have been speaking to Kes lately about my actions regarding Gretchen and Phoebe’s kidnapping and it has left me feeling discomforted.”

Janeway blinked, first at the news that Seven was seeing the ship’s counselor, though it wasn’t the first time she had availed herself of that option when dealing with personal problems, and then at the reason.  “I...see. Have you reached any conclusions?” Though uncomfortable with the imprecise science of psychology, she accepted it, and even used it professionally in her own interactions with the crew. But she wasn’t on firm ground when it was applied to personal feelings, hers or Seven's.

“Kes has offered the theory that as I evolve in my emotional growth, I will sometimes lapse into a stage that was initially bypassed during my time as a Borg.”

“Indeed.” Janeway settled back into her chair and sipped at her wine. She couldn’t wait to hear this. “In what way?”

“My reaction to not convincing you to return to the Alpha Quadrant was immediate and adolescent in nature. Kes noted that perhaps I was ‘acting out’ as a…” Seven faltered and looked ashamed.

“As a…what?”
“As a teenager would.”

Janeway almost laughed. “Why do I suddenly feel like a ‘dirty old woman’? You’ve always been younger than me, but honestly, Annika, a teenager?”

“I do not mean that I have become a teenager,” Seven said somewhat testily, “merely that my emotional development occasionally encounters a temporary hindrance that displays itself in inappropriate behavior.”

Janeway was warned by Seven’s tone that this was a sensitive issue and she damped down her amusement. “I suppose that’s a logical assessment. What does it mean in the long term?”

“I assume that as I continue to evolve, I will cease any such behavioral digressions.” Seven paused, a furrow appearing between her brows as she thought about it. “Though that has not been my impression when observing humans.”

“What do you mean?”

“Many adults that I met on Voyager have acted immaturely. B’Elanna, for example, and Tom Paris and Harry Kim.  Indeed, your own behavior on occasion, could be deemed ‘adolescent’ yet none of you experienced any interruption in your emotional development as I have.”

“My behavior?” Janeway started to demand examples, but stopped when she realized Seven would undoubtedly have a embarrassment of riches to offer. “I suppose we all regress at times. You shouldn’t feel as if you’re unusual in that way.”

“I do not want it to happen again.”

Janeway swirled some wine around in her mouth, letting its flavor and texture rest on her tongue, not only to appreciate it, but also to buy herself a little time before she had to respond to that. Finally, she swallowed. “Then I suppose the next time you feel overwhelmed by your emotions, you’ll have to take a few moments to consider how you'll respond. Just think before you act.”

Seven appeared taken aback. “I always think before I act.”

Janeway knew she couldn’t respond to that, not in any manner that wouldn’t land her in an amazing amount of trouble. As Seven stared at her, Janeway merely took another sip of wine and smiled brightly. “What’s for dessert?”

Later, in bed, after logging them both off duty for the next day, she snuggled up to Seven’s side, head on her shoulder. Taking some time off was the only way she would accumulate enough sleep at this point. Besides, Kelly had refused a day off after her away mission so Janeway figured a day without the captain looking over her shoulder would be the next best thing.

“Darling?”

Seven squeezed her lightly. “Yes, Kathryn?”

“Do you confer with Kes often?”

“Not as much as I did Sek,” Seven replied, “but the situation between us has left me so unsettled that I felt the need for professional counseling. I have had four sessions with her over the past two days.” She nuzzled Janeway’s hair. “Does this disturb you? I know you are uncomfortable with the need for such services.”

“Only for myself, love.” Janeway was quick to reassure her. “I definitely believe that if you require such assistance, you must avail yourself of it. That’s why the ship carries a counselor, after all.”

Seven drew a fingertip along Janeway’s cheek. “Why are you so reluctant to utilize counseling for yourself? You have never really explained that to me.”

Janeway exhaled gustily. “God, Annika, I don’t really know. I suppose it’s just a generalized suspicion for a science that lacks precision, and a reluctance to be that open with anyone, particularly someone who, at the end of the day, is under my command.”

“But you will not utilize it on Earth, either, with someone who is not in your crew.”

“Ah, but then it’s always a Starfleet councilor who wants to see me, which means my professional status is in question. Why would I be comfortable with that?”

“There are always civilian professionals.”

“Are you suggesting that I need counseling?” Janeway felt a prickle of defensiveness.

“I feel that availing yourself of that option would help you, as it has helped me,” Seven replied evenly. “I am the only one with whom you can be vulnerable, particularly while on the ship. Speaking with Kes would have assisted you immensely during this recent time when I was…away.”

Janeway swallowed back her immediate response. “I understand that, but just because something works for you, Annika doesn’t mean it will work for me.”

Seven was silent a few seconds and then she hugged her gently. “I do not mean to make you angry, Kathryn.”

“I’m not angry,” Janeway said, somewhat sheepishly. “Just…resistant.” She lifted her head and kissed Seven’s neck, the skin soft and smooth beneath her lips. “And I wasn’t entirely alone, darling. I had people who felt compelled to offer me their advice and opinion during that time.”

“You did?” Seven sounded surprise.

Janeway supposed she should have expected that. Her reticence with confiding in her crew regarding personal issues was well established. “Both Ro and Pulaski took the time to speak with me and lend a shoulder.”

“Was it helpful?”

“Yes, it was.” Surprisingly so, Janeway thought ruefully. She wasn’t ready to grant Ro or Pulaski the same intimate access that Seven had, but she couldn’t deny that perhaps those moments of friendship during a very dark time had kept her functional when, otherwise, it would have been far more difficult.

“You must thank them.”

“Hmm, I will. We’ll invite them to dinner and I’ll let them enjoy your cooking. That’s true gratitude.”

“Kathryn.” Seven’s squeeze and tone were both admonishing and Janeway laughed.

“Darling, true friendship doesn't require a thank you for certain things. Just the fact I allowed it meant I needed both it and them. They know that.”

They lay in companionable silence for a moment before Seven drew her knuckles lightly over Janeway’s nipple, which responded immediately. Janeway was charmed, if a little surprised. “Darling? Still?”

“I am amorous this evening,” Seven admitted, almost shyly.

Janeway stretched, feeling the sliver of desire ripple through her, and turned to her spouse, wrapping her arms around her and pulling her close. “Perhaps you’re developing a cycle similar to mine,” she murmured and kissed her deeply.

Seven made a small sound of delight. “Perhaps I am. Though if our cycles coincide, there will be one day a month where we shall simply be unable to leave the bed.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Seven returned her kiss hotly. “It would be. I would rather have two days a month where we need each other beyond reason rather than one.”
Janeway couldn’t argue with that.

Epilogue

Ro studied B’Elanna as she puttered around their quarters and wondered if this was a part of ‘nesting’ behavior.  She couldn’t remember B’Elanna ever ‘puttering’ before, but she couldn’t come up with any other term for it.

“Are you sure you’re all right?”

B’Elanna glanced over her shoulder at her. “I’m fine.”

There was just a hint of testiness in her tone that indicated Ro had asked her one too many times. But she had been worried when she heard about Seven tossing her aside while saving Janeway from the parasites. Despite both Pulaski and B’Elanna’s reassurances, she remained fearful for her partner and their baby. She wondered if she would feel this way during the entire pregnancy, and was deathly afraid she would feel this way for the entire life of the child.

B’Elanna took another look at her and Ro’s expression must have revealed something because she came over and sat down next to her on the couch. “What’s wrong?”

“I guess this mission was a bit tough on me.”

B’Elanna looked a little surprised, either at the admission or the fact that Ro seemed so vulnerable. “It was that hard on the surface?”

“Just being away from you,” Ro admitted. “Especially when I got back and heard what had happened to you.”

B’Elanna cupped her face in her palms, looking into her eyes. “I’m fine,” she repeated with intensity. “The baby’s fine. It’s all right.”

Ro sighed. “I know. It just...it shook me, you know?”

"I know." B’Elanna kissed her and they settled back onto the cushions, curled together. “Is there anything else?”

“Maybe just this situation with the parasites. It actually surprised me that the captain authorized the project. I really thought she would…I don’t know…let her compassion rule her judgment more.” Ro shrugged. “Just goes to show that just when I think I know her, she still surprises me.”

“What would you have done?”

“Huh?”

“If you were captain, what would you have decided?”

Ro considered it. “Well, my initial reaction would have been to pull the trigger as soon as we had a proper weapon against them, but I’ve been around Janeway long enough to know that wouldn’t have been the right decision. At least, not until I had a lot more information.”

“You don’t agree with the decision now?” B’Elanna was surprised.

“I don’t know.” Ro peered into the clear depths of her spring wine. “I guess that’s why I’m not the captain.”

“One day,” B’Elanna told her.

Ro chuckled. “Need to be first officer first.”
B'Elanna merely smiled quietly.

The End

•  This is the 18th installment in the Millennium series.

•  Dedicated to those new readers who are just now finding the series. Welcome aboard.

•  There is a Wonder Wand Warning in effect for this story.

•  It was posted to the net on August 31st, 2007.

Beta Battles

G. L. Dartt

Back in Confederation space, USS Millennium powered down from warp, sailing majestically into the Elthanian system at impulse speed. Captain Janeway rested her chin on her thumb and forefinger, staring idly at the viewscreen dominating the bridge. It revealed a magnified image of Hearthstone, the StarScouts Headquarters and premier space station in this region of space. Not far away, a large communications array maintained synchronous orbit with the station, its boxy Federation technology in stark contrast to the fairylike spires and structures constructed by the Elthanians.

Elthanians made up most of the membership of the StarScouts, but Janeway knew the real power lay with the Soularri, a vaguely ursine species whose technological advantages kept them ahead of other more aggressive and volatile species. The fact that they were cute, standing about three feet tall with long golden hair and teddy bear-like features, led many to underestimate them. After having Minister Jiidan on board her vessel for several months as an observer, Janeway did not make the same mistake. She had learned that they could be as ruthless and implacable as any human…including a starship captain.

She glanced over at him now, seated at the auxiliary bridge station on the upper rim, just aft of ops where Lt. T’Shanik worked. Minister Jiidan’s only concession to garments was an emerald green loincloth and a matching vest that hung open over his small but muscular chest. His unclad feet were tipped with black claws, as were his dexterous hands, but the edged claws were retracted. It was unlikely she would ever see them exposed in anger given the jeweled belt about his waist that contained a multitude of weapons and devices, making any attempt on his person a short and unpleasant one for the attacker.

“You must be glad to be home, Minister,” she offered pleasantly.

“I have enjoyed our voyage immensely, Captain,” he responded evenly, ever the diplomat. “But yes, it will be good to be home again. I’ve missed my family.”

Jiidan had a mate and two little ones, Janeway knew, but he didn’t speak of them often. “We should be arriving at Hearthstone within the hour.”

“Captain, we’re being hailed. It’s the StarRunner.”

Tazna Jade’s flagship? Janeway looked over at her Vulcan operations officer, T’Shanik, whose dark head was bent intently over her board. “On screen.”

The image flickered from the dark reaches of space to the interior of a space ship. Intendant Tazna was willowy and tall, with large green eyes and silver hair. Dual antennae grew from the inner corner of each brow, following the line and wafting two inches in the air at her temples. Her features were narrow but attractive, and her smile was bright as she greeted the Federation starship.

“A pleasure to see you and your vessel again, Captain Janeway.”

Janeway suspected that the only thing Jade was glad to see was the opportunity to see Seven again, but she merely dipped her head. “Intendant. Swift hunting to you.”

Tazna’s eyes flickered briefly at the Elthanian greeting that Janeway had learned from Jiidan. She’d even managed to say it without any sort of indication that she knew exactly what sort of ‘swift hunting’ the Elthanians had once enjoyed.

“I trust your mission was successful?”

“It was indeed. And yourself? I’m surprised to see we warrant an escort.”

“Nothing so grandiose, I’m afraid. It’s urgent that I speak with Minister Jiidan as soon as possible. If you could arrange to transport him to my vessel, I would be most grateful.”

Surprised, Janeway glanced over at Jiidan who was frowning as he regarded the screen. “I find Captain Janeway’s hospitality more than sufficient, Intendant.”

It wasn’t so much the words as the tone, bringing Tazna Jade to heel with a casual disregard that made Janeway bristle instinctively. Despite her dislike of being bested by Jade a time or two, she considered them to be equals, and to see her so publicly demeaned by Jiidan left a sour taste in her mouth. There had been times in her career when she had warranted a reprimand, but an efficient chain of command meant that it was delivered in person and out of sight of junior officers, let alone any alien contingent. It was simply a matter of never showing weakness. For Jiidan to have exposed his disdain for the Intendant so openly was considerably worrying.

Tazna’s only response, however, was a tightening around her eyes. Clearly she was used to such treatment. “Minister, it is imperative that I speak with you as soon as possible.”

“Then I suggest you make the proper arrangements with Captain Janeway to visit her vessel at her convenience.” He slipped off his chair and walked off the bridge.

Janeway was horrified. “Intendant, if you would be so kind as to join me and my senior staff once we’re docked at Hearthstone, I would be honored,” she said quickly, trying to cover the moment as best as she could. “We’re having a small gathering to celebrate our safe return. I’m sure that the Minister will be attending.”

“That is most gracious of you, Captain.”

“At 1800 hours?”

Tazna looked less than pleased at having to wait so long, but not enough to object so Janeway presumed whatever it was she needed to speak with the minister about, it wasn’t dire. She nodded briefly and cut the transmission. Janeway found that she was looking into Ro’s eyes, the security chief turning her chair so that she could face her. The Bajoran ridge between her dark brows was crinkled, indicating her concern.

“Captain?”
“I’m not sure,” Janeway said slowly. “See what you can pick up on subspace chatter. Something’s going on, but I’ll be damned if I can figure it out from that exchange.” She glanced at Keira Kelly, her exec. “Commander, you have the bridge. Bring us into the station. I need to speak with the ambassador.”

“Aye, Captain.”

In the turbolift, Janeway checked on Jiidan’s location with the computer, discovering he had headed for the VIP guest quarters on deck three. As she instructed the turbolift to descend, she wondered if she was about to interfere in something she shouldn’t. The politics of other civilizations could be tricky, and it really wasn’t her place to stand up for Tazna Jade or even comment on Jiidan’s behavior. Still, as the Federation representative, she needed to know if whatever was going on between the Soularri and the Elthanians could affect the treaty in any way.

Her request for admittance was readily granted and as she entered Jiidan’s quarters, she felt a light sweat break out over her forehead. The temperature was higher here and the gravity a third again heavier than that of Earth’s, making each step a bit of an effort. When Jiidan motioned her toward a chair, she lowered herself into it gratefully, relieved to be off her feet, though she declined his offer of a drink.

“You wish to discuss something, Captain?” From his expression, Janeway didn’t believe he had any illusions about why she was there so she discarded a more diplomatic approach for a blunt one.

“Do you have a problem with the Intendant that I need to know about, Minister?”

Jiidan regarded her a moment and then seemed to sigh. “My behavior on the bridge was…unwise, but Tazna Jade and I have a history, and if she wishes to speak with me now, before I meet with the council, it’s because she wishes to promote her agenda. She does so at every opportunity.”

“What sort of agenda?” Janeway thought she could guess, but she wanted to hear it from him.

“She wants…she actually demands…that the Elthanians be given more of a role in the council and in Confederation policy.” Not even his best diplomatic manner could conceal that he found such demands unrealistic and even a little presumptuous.

“Aren’t you afraid that the Elthanians might choose to take it by force rather than continue to go through channels as the Intendant does?”

Jiidan smiled and it wasn’t pleasant. “We still maintain our technological advantage, Captain. I fear that any such attempt would be futile.”

“You’re not the first to think resistance is futile, Minister,” she said mildly as she stood up. “In the meantime, I invited the Intendant to the celebration this evening. I hope you will attend and perhaps listen to her concerns?”

Jiidan regarded her steadily, and then nodded, albeit reluctantly. “It will not be anything I haven’t heard before, Captain Janeway. She takes advantage of my willingness to grant her any attention at all. I am one of the few Soularri who does.”

“Then don’t lose that advantage, Minister.”

Jiidan inclined his head. “Very well, Captain. I look forward to the party.” He paused before adding wistfully, “By any chance will Seven be catering?”

Janeway laughed. “Sorry, Minister. We’ll have to settle for what Paryk and the rest of the Nexus staff can provide.”

And they’ve done me proud, she thought a few hours later as she glanced over the buffet dinner set up in the Nexus. Various selections of rice and stir-fry dishes, spring rolls, wontons, and egg rolls offered a decidedly Oriental theme, as did the décor of her ship’s crew lounge.  She picked up a small plate, filled it with a few egg rolls and carried it back to the large table where others of her senior staff and a few members of Tazna’s crew were already eating. As she sat down between Minister Jiidan and Commander Ro, she glanced up just in time to see Seven and Tazna Jade enter the room, talking animatedly to each other.

Jealousy, unexpectedly raw and powerful, blasted through her chest and curdled the pit of her stomach, though she hoped her features remained impassive. She must have given something away, however, because Seven immediately glanced over at her, nodded pleasantly to Tazna, and moved toward the buffet. Not because the captain's gaze intimidated her at all, Janeway knew, but because she was being considerate of a hurt that still lingered after the rough patch they had recently suffered.

Taking a slow breath, Janeway looked down at her plate and used her fork and knife to slice off a piece of egg roll. Chewing savagely, she could barely taste it as she tried to bring her wayward emotions back under control. When she looked up again, Seven was seated across from her and Tazna Jade had found a place beside her. A plate of rice covered with vegetables and sesame chicken rested near Janeway, and she met Seven’s eyes, nodding her thanks for bringing it over.

As for the rest of it, she would just have to grin and bear it, she decided. After all, only time would completely heal the wounds and restore the absolute faith in her spouse that she had once taken for granted.

“So, Intendant, were you able to speak with the Minister?” she asked, deliberately making her voice as pleasant as possible.

Tazna’s emerald eyes met hers gravely. “We were able to speak,” she said. From her tone, Janeway suspected it had not been a particularly productive conversation.

Seven flicked her eyebrow at her, and after a few seconds, Janeway realized that she had been privy to the conversation. It would simply be a matter of taking Seven aside to find out what was going on, but that would have to wait until after dinner. Until then, Janeway would have to swallow her impatience as she did the last of her egg roll.

“How long before you make the jump back to the Federation, Captain?”

Janeway put aside her empty plate and replaced it with the entrée Seven had so thoughtfully provided. “We’ve spent the past week preparing the ship for our return so there’s no need for any delay. Tomorrow morning we’ll retrieve the last of the Starfleet personnel from the communications array, and once we’re clear of the system, we’ll be activating the transwarp jump.”

“Do you anticipate returning here soon?”

Janeway thought she picked up a note of something behind the words, but Tazna’s features were blandly pleasant, nothing more. “I doubt our next mission will include the Beta Quadrant, but the Federation is very strongly considering future expeditions here for the new deep explorers coming off the line. It’s a real advantage to have a safe destination point while testing their transwarp drives.”

Tazna’s eyes grew lidded. “Then I wish you a good trip, Captain. Hopefully, there will be no delays in your departure.”

<>          She turned to Dr. Pulaski who was seated on her left, joining the conversation the medical officer had been enjoying with Kes across the table, leaving Janeway to ponder all the layers she was sure lay beneath Tazna’s bland words.
It was imperative that she talk to Seven as soon as possible.

“So why didn’t you tell me this was a baby shower?”

Seven smiled faintly at B’Elanna. “This party has quickly evolved into many things: a chance for the Intendant to speak with Minister Jiidan, a gathering to celebrate the successful conclusion of our mission, and finally, the opportunity for some of the crew to celebrate the new addition to your family.”

“And it makes up for the crew not having any shore leave on Hearthstone,” Ro added as she scanned the Nexus, her dark eyes never still. Seven did not think she was even aware of her constant assessment of the crowd.

“Well, I’m never one to turn down free gifts,” B’Elanna said as she opened up another brightly wrapped box. Once dinner had ended, she, Ro and Seven found a booth in the corner, out of the way of the rest of the party. Despite their inconspicuous location, quite a few members of the crew had stopped by to share their best wishes and, in some instances, a present for the expecting couple.

Seven lifted her eyebrow. “All gifts are, by their nature, ‘free’. Otherwise they would be purchases.”

B’Elanna shot her a look but didn’t respond. Instead, her attention was taken with the pink knitted sweater that she pulled out of the gift box. It was impossibly tiny, festooned with a plethora of ribbons and lace, and she regarded it without expression.

“Do you like it?” Seven asked with scientific dispassion, wondering when the traditional ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’ would begin. Some of the other mothers-to-be in the showers Seven had attended on the ship over the past two years had actually cried when opening their gifts. B’Elanna, in contrast, looked as if it were a chore she simply had to get through. Seven was glad she had not planned anything more elaborate for her friend.

“It’s very nice,” B’Elanna said in a very noncommittal tone. “They’re all very nice.”

“Perhaps you should open the gift from Kathryn and me.”

“The best for last, is it?” She didn’t sound as if she meant it but after placing the sweater on the table with the other gifts, she took the package Seven slid over to her. It was rectangular and flat, and when B’Elanna shook it, it rattled slightly. With a bemused expression, she tore off the paper to reveal an ornate wooden box. Flipping open the lid, her eyes lit up perceptibly when she discovered a six-inch-long bat’leth resting on the black velvet lining. Its wickedly sharp blade gleamed with deadly menace in the muted illumination.

“Ooh,” B’Elanna squealed in delight. “Ahh. This is fantastic, Seven.”

“Are you kidding me?” Ro asked with a certain amount of alarm. She was no longer scanning the crowd. She was staring in dismay at the tiny weapon B’Elanna was waving around.

“What?”

“Lanna, it’s sharp as hell.”

“Ah, it’s never too early to teach them about weapon control,” B’Elanna assured her, checking the edge of the weapon with her thumb and blatantly pleased when a thin line of crimson immediately appeared on her skin. “It’s perfect, Seven. Thank you.”

“The captain picked this out?”

Seven flicked a glance at Ro. “Kathryn trusts me to select all the gifts we give as a couple.”

“Oh, my God.” The throaty tone sounded absolutely horrified and Seven looked over her shoulder to see the captain approaching, gaping at the small bat’leth that B’Elanna continued to admire. “Who on Earth gave you that?”

“You did,” Ro told her dryly.

Janeway stared at Seven. “That’s what you chose?”

“It is an appropriate gift for the offspring of warriors.”

“I love it, Captain.” B’Elanna beamed at her.

Janeway hesitated, and finally shook her head. “As long as you like it, B’Elanna. But I take no responsibility for what your child does with it.” She looked at Seven. “I need to speak with you a moment, please.”

“Of course, Kathryn.”

Janeway wrapped her fingers around Seven’s arm, guiding her to the concealing shadows of an alcove near the large viewports which normally looked out into the dark depths of space. Now they revealed the interior of one of Hearthstone’s docking ports where thick umbilicals connected the ship to the station, replenishing atmosphere and the basic organic food provisions that were used by the ship’s replicators.

After glancing around to make sure there wasn’t anyone nearby, Janeway looked up into Seven’s face, her eyes shading to gray. “What’s going on between Minister Jiidan and the Intendant?”

Seven resisted the urge to smile. She had wondered how long it would take for Janeway to seek her out regarding that particular topic. “Why do you believe anything is occurring between them?”

“Seven.”

Apparently the captain was in no mood for dissembling. “Jade believes there is a faction within the StarScouts that is on the verge of rebelling against the Confederation Council.”

Janeway inhaled sharply, her eyes narrowing. “Jiidan’s response?”

“He did not appear to take it seriously. He indicated this was not the first time the Intendant warned of such action, and that all her previous warnings had been without substance.”

“Were you present for this conversation?”

“I was ten meters down the corridor, waiting for the Intendant to escort me to the party.”

“So you were eavesdropping.”

“I do not need to share what I heard if you have a philosophical objection to information gathered in such a fashion.”

Janeway shot her a look and inhaled slowly. “Point taken. What else have you got?”

Seven thought about it. “I have only impressions, Kathryn.”

“Your impressions are better than a lot of other’s facts, darling,” Janeway said warmly, patting her arm. “What is it?”

“It is my opinion that Jade was very serious about this warning. That she did not feel that it was without substance. It is possible that any former attempts at violent rebellion were forestalled by her actions, and she can no longer maintain the control over her people that she once held.”

“That’s a hell of an opinion.” Janeway looked at her. “Has she said something to you about it?”

“Nothing specific, but it is a tentative theory I have formulated from previous conversations with her, added to this new information I possess.”

“All right, see if you can pick up on anything else.”

Surprised, Seven stared at her. “You wish me to spend time with her?”

Janeway blinked, and her expression darkened. “I don’t like the idea,” she admitted, “but there’s something going on and it may affect the Federation’s interests in this area.”  She looked away, mouth tight, a muscle jumping in her jaw. “With Jiidan having already transported to the station to be with his family, she’s our only source of information on this. Do what you can. I’ll try to find out something from her crew.”

Seven stared at her a few seconds longer, then leaned closer and brushed her lips over Janeway’s cheek. “Kathryn, there is no need for you to be jealous of Tazna Jade,” she murmured. “I have absolutely no romantic interest in her.”

“I know.” Janeway dipped her head sheepishly. “I’m sorry, darling. This jealousy of mine is completely irrational. I really don’t know where it comes from.”

“I believe it is not so much jealousy as it is fear, and my recent actions have exacerbated that fear. It is understandable, Kathryn.” Seven slipped her arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “And completely forgivable.”

Janeway allowed the embrace, and even went so far as to kiss her throat. “I love you, Seven of Mine.”

“One of One, I love you as well.”

“Be careful.”

Janeway gave her a final hug and moved back into the crowd. Seven stared after her for a moment, reminded again of how much she had upset her spouse’s equilibrium with her recent actions. It would take time before Janeway carried herself with that almost smug self-assurance she had once enjoyed. Swallowing a sigh, Seven plunged back into the crowd in search of Tazna Jade.

While Tazna appeared happy to spend time with Seven, she did not offer anything else despite Seven’s best efforts at being charming, which admittedly, was far short of her spouse’s adept command of the skill. Every time Seven brought up the political balance between the Elthanians and the Soularri, Jade smoothly changed the subject to Millennium’s mission and how the Federation operated. She finally excused herself from Seven’s presence, politely and graciously, but also leaving no doubt that she had wearied of her company. It was clear, Seven decided ruefully, as she watched Tazna move out on the dance floor with the ship’s EMH, that she no longer offered the same fascination for the Intendant that she had once enjoyed. Obviously, her revelation some months before that she and Janeway were actually mated, as opposed to merely being romantically involved, had completely destroyed Tazna’s interest. It made for a more honest footing upon which to build a friendship, but it offered little in the way for Seven to take advantage of the woman.

Feeling oddly dismayed at her reduction in status, though unsure why, Seven sought out the captain, finding her with Ro and B’Elanna. Janeway’s eyes held an inquiring look. Seven shook her head minutely to indicate she had not learned anything new and turned her attention to B’Elanna. The Klingon really did look excessively healthy, radiating a disproportionate hormonal balance. Seven wondered if that was the ‘glow’ pregnant women were purported to exhibit.

“Would you like a drink, darling?” Janeway slipped her arm around Seven's waist and squeezed lightly.

“A spring wine, if you would, Kathryn.”

B’Elanna nudged her spouse. “The same for you?”

Ro handed her a now empty glass. “Thank you.”

As Janeway and B’Elanna set off to brave the crowds surrounding the bar, Ro took a step closer to Seven. Her body language had altered slightly, becoming oddly aggressive, and Seven reacted instinctively, nanoprobes flooding her system, heightening awareness, speed and tactile strength, though she had no idea what was going on. Positioning her body so that her left side with the Borg manipulative implant was angled toward Ro, she regarded her quizzically.

“I’ve been going over the logs of our mission with the parasites,” Ro said in a low, tight voice. “When they swarmed out of the guest quarters, you treated B’Elanna pretty roughly.”

“I carefully calculated the force necessary to disable her.”

“Yes, like you did when you broke my jaw that time. You’re exceptionally powerful, Seven, and that can be dangerous, particularly when the captain is endangered.”

“I would never willingly hurt B’Elanna, and I would never wish to harm your child in any manner.”

“Nonetheless, neither holds the same priority for you that Janeway does.”

Seven could not deny the accuracy of that assessment, and finally, she understood from where Ro’s aggressive posture was originating. Ro took another step closer and Seven allowed it, though she did not lose any of her alertness as Ro continued to speak in that low, taut voice.

“I appreciate that you felt you had to do what you had to do to get to Janeway. But if you ever hurt either of them again, I will kill you.” Cold and implacable, the words were devoid of challenge or bravado. It was merely a statement of fact. In those dark eyes, Seven could see a resolve that equaled her own, and beyond that, a glimpse of what devastation would be wrought on the Bajoran should she ever lose either member of her family unit.

“You could make the attempt but it would fail.” Seven said it with a touch of regret, though she thoroughly believed it to be the most probable outcome of such an event. “You would die.”

Ro smiled without humor. “Only if you saw me coming.”

“No threat will deter me from protecting Kathryn in any way I can.”

“Oh, I realize that. I know exactly what I’m dealing with in you, Seven. Just know what you’re dealing with in me. I love B’Elanna and my daughter as much as you love the captain.”

Seven lowered her head in respectful acknowledgement. “Understood, Commander.”

At that moment, B’Elanna and Janeway joined them. The engineer slipped her arm around Ro’s waist and smiled brightly at Seven. “So what are you two ladies being so serious about?”

“Commander Ro was merely outlining procedure should certain circumstances require it,” Seven said blandly as she accepted the glass Janeway handed to her.

“Well, enough shop talk for now,” Janeway said as she touched her drink to Seven’s champagne flute with a soft ‘clink’. “This is a party to celebrate our return to the Alpha Quadrant and the new addition to your family.”

“Of course, Kathryn,” Ro said, but her eyes met Seven’s squarely over her glass as they drank to the baby’s future.

“So what were you and Seven gabbing about?”

Ro glanced up from the security report she was reviewing, frowning slightly. “When?”

“When the captain and I were getting your drinks.”

B’Elanna eased the tunic over her head, exposing an already bulging belly and Ro eyed it with a sort of proprietary wonder. The thought of their daughter, growing and developing even as she watched, safe in the womb of its mother, still awed her.

“Laren?”

Ro blinked and put the padd down on the coffee table, leaning back against the cushions of the sofa. “Sorry, love, what was it?”
Annoyed, B’Elanna tossed her tunic at her, draping it over Ro’s head and obscuring her vision. Unperturbed, the security chief pulled it off and threw it in the direction of the replicator and the rest of the discarded clothes piled in front of it. While Ro tended to favor Spartan surroundings, B’Elanna had a far more relaxed attitude toward the issue, which meant one of the many compromises Ro had accepted in their marriage resulted in an occasional display of clutter. B’Elanna would run the clothes through the cleaning cycle in the morning, when she did her uniform. Ro’s uniform for the next day was already folded neatly on the nightstand next to the bed, boots set neatly on the deck below, ready for donning at a moment’s notice.

“What were you and Seven talking about when Janeway and I were getting your drinks.” B’Elanna spoke in a slow, exaggerated tone, as if to a small child or someone who didn’t quite understand the language. Ro resisted the urge to smile.

“Nothing important,” she said. “We were just clarifying certain things between us should the situation ever require it.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning it’s between Seven and me and doesn’t require your input.” She spoke easily but firmly. B’Elanna regarded her a moment, obviously trying to decide whether she should pursue it or not. Ro took the opportunity to reach out for B'Elanna, grasping her lightly at the waist and pulling her to the sofa. Kissing the soft skin of B’Elanna’s abdomen, she rested her cheek against it, listening to the soft gurgles and swishes within and hoping to hear a heartbeat.

B’Elanna hesitated a moment longer and then wrapped her arms around her head, hugging her close to her. “Hear the little bugger?”

“No,” Ro said with a bit of a sigh. She was about to add that she wished she had Seven’s enhanced hearing abilities, but realized that might draw the conversation back to where she didn’t need to go, so she kissed her stomach again instead. “Ready for bed?”

“Yeah, about an hour ago.”

Ro drew back, looking up into B’Elanna’s dark eyes. It wasn’t like her to admit to weariness so easily. “You okay?”

B’Elanna shrugged. “I’m fine. Just want to curl up in your arms and sleep for a year. Honestly, most of the time I feel like I can power the ship itself, but when I crash, it’s major exhaustion.”

“Hormones.” Ro smiled.

“Hormones,” B’Elanna agreed ruefully.

Ro pushed B’Elanna back gently to give herself room to stand up. Then she wrapped her arms around her spouse and held her tightly, burying her face in the dark, wavy hair, cherishing the warmth and presence of her. “I adore your hormones.”

“Good thing, because I have plenty of ‘em.”

Amused, Ro hugged her again. “Come on to bed.”

Inside their small bedroom, Ro wearily stripped off the outfit she had worn to the party and placed it in the replicator where it was dissembled back into its component elements, the energy recycled into the ship’s stores. Between the sheets of her bed, she reached for B’Elanna, pulling her into a loving embrace in preparation for sleep. Brushing her lips over the high ridges of Klingon forehead, she was surprised when she felt B’Elanna’s hands start to trace gentle trails of sensation over her body.

“I thought you were tired.”

“I am. I want it slow and lazy tonight.”

Ro’s laugh was low and smoky. “I suppose I could manage that.”

She kissed along B'Elanna's temple and down to her mouth, tasting her lips and tongue with undemanding pleasure. Easing B’Elanna back onto the mattress, Ro nibbled lightly on her neck, stroking her full breasts with a light touch, teasing the fat nipples in a way she knew was as much maddening as it was enjoyable. B’Elanna groaned and tangled her fingers in Ro’s hair, pulling her head to her as they kissed again, deep, open kisses that grew more passionate, more demanding, with each passing second.

Reaching down between their bodies, Ro fondled the dual clitori she found, alternating back and forth between the upper, larger protrusion and the lower and more sensitive smaller clit. B’Elanna groaned and undulated against the caress, sliding her own hand down to touch Ro’s f’lar ridges. Quivering at the sensation, Ro pulled B’Elanna closer with her other arm and increased her tempo, trying to concentrate even as B’Elanna did her best to make it difficult. They knew each other so well, they were able to remain in sync as their desire rose. Feeling her peak rushing toward her, Ro forced herself to stay with her lover, forced herself to stay in rhythm, and knowing in that perfect moment when she climaxed that B’Elanna did as well. They held on to each other for a moment, and then had to move to their respective sides of the bed to cool off.

B’Elanna finally laughed. “That was slow and lazy?”

“Well, slower and lazier than what we normally do.”

“Good point.”

Ro chuckled and rolled over, cuddling against B’Elanna’s side, the greater heat of her skin welcome now as she settled into afterglow. Nestling her head on a strong shoulder, Ro placed her palm on the slow rise of B’Elanna’s stomach, feeling particularly connected to her. B’Elanna’s arm wrapped tight about her shoulders, holding her close.

“Can I ask you something?”

Ro blinked back sleep. “Always, love, you know that.”

“Are we re-upping for the ship’s next mission? I mean, I’ve sort of been assuming it and now I wonder if I shouldn’t be.”

“I guess we haven’t really talked about it, have we? Not the long-term aspects of raising a child. We’ve been more concerned with actually getting pregnant and having the child. But we should figure out what we want to do. What do you think about it?”

B’Elanna exhaled audibly, not quite a sigh. “I don’t know. Millennium’s as much my home as the house on Mars, but really, neither is permanent. That’s the nature of Starfleet. In fact, that’s been the nature of my whole life.”

After a moment's pause, Ro observed, “There’s some advantage in being a citizen of the Federation as a whole, rather than just looking to a planet or people. But there are advantages on the other side as well. What is it that we want for our daughter?”

Ro felt B’Elanna nuzzle her hair, her tone thoughtful as she spoke. “I grew up on a colony with a lot of other kids around. Dad was away most of the time…Starfleet again…but Mom really didn’t didn’t want him there anyway. And even though we lived there all the time, the only place I really felt at home was with my grandmother. It’s not where the place is, Laren, it’s where the love is.”

Ro absorbed that quietly. “I didn’t have much of a childhood on Bajor,” she said finally, “but while my father was still alive, I didn’t care, you know. Home was a little hovel where I could be with him.”

“So is being on Millennium so different? This is where our friends are. This is where our jobs are. There’s no reason we can’t raise a healthy, happy child here.”

“No, there isn’t, but we have to acknowledge that there are also safer places to raise children, like Earth or Mars or even on Bajor. We have a great house at Utopia Planecia, and if we choose to accept groundside positions, we’d have full claim on it. It has a back yard and there are plenty of other children in the neighborhood.”

“Is that what you want, Laren?” B’Elanna kissed her temple.

“I want what you want, Lanna, and I want what’s best for our child. Millennium is one of the safer vessels for families, just as the Galaxy-class are, but it’s still a ship of the line, and its purpose is to explore unknown space. We’re probably heading for the Gamma Quadrant for our next mission and that means the Dominion at the very least. Just because they’ve been quiet for awhile doesn’t mean they’ll stay that way.” Ro tapped her fingers on B’Elanna’s abdomen, producing a soft thrumming sound.  “Maybe our child deserves better.”

“But even Earth was at risk during the Dominion War. No place is 100% safe. So why not have it be where we’re happy? Certainly she’ll know if we’re not.”

“She will, won’t she?” Ro sighed a little. “Well, I admit, I’d hate to leave Janeway dealing with a new exec without me to back her up.”

B’Elanna made a soft sound of amusement. “And if you left, that would probably put Seven third in command.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the chief science officer being third in command on a science vessel.”

“Yes, but can you see Seven dealing with everything you deal with on top of your security duties? Dealing with a green-as-grass exec or whatever problem child Nechayev sends Janeway next?”

Ro smiled, imagining the scenario.  “It would be a stressful mission.”

“Yes, it would.” B’Elanna’s lips brushed over Ro’s forehead. “You’ve become an integral part of this crew, Laren. Don’t ever doubt that.”

“Ironic, considering I never thought I’d be an integral part of anything.” Ro slid her arm across B’Elanna’s body and squeezed lightly. “Now I have so much-- you, our child, our friends…”

Ro so cherished these moments in bed, believing the quiet conversations and sharing of thoughts to be some of the best aspects of marriage. She had never had anyone in her life like B’Elanna, had never found a safe haven where she could be completely comfortable. She hoped she would never take it for granted.

“You going to sleep?”

“I was thinking about it,” Ro offered dryly. “Did you have something more in mind?”

“No, I just like talking with you,” B’Elanna said, her words reflecting Ro’s train of thought with unfailing accuracy. That was something Ro was also still getting used to, but greatly appreciated. “I guess having a baby forces us to examine every aspect of our lives.”

“And gives us the chance to realize just how much we have?” Ro smiled. “Well, this time tomorrow, we’ll be back in the Alpha Quadrant and I suspect we’ll have a decent shore leave this time. That means six months where we can evaluate living on Mars as opposed to raising a child on Millennium. By the time we have to make a decision, I’m sure we’ll have everything we need to know so as to make the right one.”

“I hope so.”

They lay in silence a moment until B’Elanna nudged her lightly. “Maybe I do have something more in mind.”

Ro laughed. “Hormones?”

B’Elanna rolled over on top of her, looking down in the dim illumination, a tender expression on his face. “Not hormones. I just love you, bangwI'.”

Profoundly touched by the sentiment, Ro felt tears sting the back of her eyes. “I love you, too.”

Feeling at home in a way that she never had before.

<>“So what were you and Ro talking about so intently?”

Janeway glanced over at Seven who was propped up against her pillows as she perused a padd, working out some final details for her department before their jump in the morning. Disdaining nightclothes, she was a vision of gold and silver against the dark blue of Starfleet issued sheets. The bedding was bunched around her waist, leaving her full, heavy breasts on glorious display, their tips a rosy pink. Janeway felt a strong flash of desire shiver through her as she slipped out of her uniform tunic.

Seven lifted a brow, but did not look up from her padd. “When?”

“At the party, when B’Elanna and I returned with our drinks.”

“Must you know everything, Kathryn?”

Janeway considered that as she pulled her sweater off over her head. “Yes, darling, I believe I must.” After dropping the garment on the replicator tray, she put her insignia pips on the nightstand and unfastened her pants. Seven flicked her a look, a flash of blue eyes, and smiled briefly as she returned her attention to her padd.

“Ro merely informed me that if I ever hurt B’Elanna again, she would kill me.”

“What?” Janeway paused in the motion of taking off her trousers. “Are you serious?”

Seven shrugged minutely. “I appreciate her stance. It does not significantly differ from mine should you ever be harmed.”

“I don’t believe I care for my crew threatening each other.” Janeway frowned as she finished putting the rest of her clothes into the replicator where a touch of a button caused the uniform to dissolve briefly before reforming, clean and neatly folded. “It was bad enough when you and B’Elanna locked horns, but that was never really serious. Ro is always serious.”

“So am I, but this has nothing to do with ship’s business, Kathryn. It is a personal matter between Laren and me.”

“It sounds like a damned pissing contest to me.”

Startled, Seven lifted her head and stared at the captain. “A ‘pissing contest’? I am unfamiliar with the meaning of the phrase. What is ‘pissing’?”

Janeway was already regretting her choice of words. “It’s a slang term for urination.”

“And humans conduct contests in this?” Seven looked thoroughly appalled.

“Not officially. I mean, I don’t think anyone actually has contests.” Janeway felt her head start to ache as she considered all the ramifications of trying to explain it. This was going to take a while…she could just feel it. “Well, maybe young males do.”

“And what is the purpose of such a contest?”

“I believe to see how far a stream of urine can reach,” Janeway said as she slipped into bed beside her spouse. “That’s not the point, Seven.”

“What is the prize for winning such an event?”

“Bragging rights, I suppose. Will you quit changing the subject?”

Seven blinked. “What is the subject, Kathryn?”

Since she was the one with the eidetic memory, Janeway knew the discussion had digressed badly if she couldn’t remember what they were talking about.

“Darling, please don’t threaten Ro, again. And I’ll speak to her about threatening you.”

“You will not,” Seven said firmly, “or I will cease telling you about such things.”

“But---“ Janeway began.

“No.” Seven’s tone was even harder. “You will not speak to her, Kathryn. This does not concern you.”

“It certainly does.”

“No, it does not.”

Silence fell as they both considered their stance, recognizing that neither was about to retreat. Resuming the discussion, Janeway knew, would only lead to further argument. Seven rarely utilized that tone with her, but when she did, it was absolute. Was this worth pursuing?

She inhaled slowly. Seven and Ro were entitled to their own interaction with each other, regardless of how she might view it, and deep down, she didn’t believe for a minute that it would affect their professionalism or even their friendship. It really was a pissing contest in that sense, with both women able to categorize the threats separately from their feelings for each other. It wasn’t necessarily something that Janeway understood completely or felt comfortable with, but she accepted that both Seven and Ro could.

“All right, I won’t say anything,” she said after a moment.

“Acceptable.”  But Seven’s tone was still a bit curt.

Janeway looked sideways at her, not turning her head. Seven appeared completely focused on her padd. Only a slight pinkness in her cheeks indicated her temper was still up. Janeway, who had anticipated other pursuits when coming to bed, regretted that she had wasted time on an argument, particularly one which she had no hope of winning.  Reaching beneath the covers, she put her hand on Seven’s knee, rubbing it lightly in an apologetic fashion. Seven exhaled audibly, but she didn’t move away or request that Janeway remove her hand.

Encouraged, Janeway slowly continued the caress, moving in an aimless fashion which, nonetheless, crept inexorably up Seven’s thigh toward the junction of her legs. Thin strands of hair tickled the side of Janeway’s hand as she neared her destination, and she wondered how much farther she could go before provoking a reaction. And she wasn’t entirely sure what the reaction would be after their disagreement which, in some odd way, was exciting within itself.

But she was still startled when Seven abruptly tossed the padd onto the nightstand and turned to her aggressively, grabbing her wrists and pinning them above her head as she pressed her down onto the bed. She had been doing that quite often lately, Janeway thought, and while it was generally thrilling, she was beginning to wonder what was motivating it.

God, Katie, does it really matter? she wondered as Seven kissed and nibbled her throat, looming over her with predatory interest. Why couldn’t she just lie back and enjoy it, especially since she knew that Seven would stop instantly if she made so much as a whimper of protest. Or perhaps that was why, she mused further, groaning as Seven’s mouth made a delicious trail down her chest and gently savaged her breasts. Perhaps Seven wanted her to object just so she could stop. Just so that she could prove to her that she would never go beyond what Janeway wanted or needed.

She jerked suddenly as Seven’s teeth worried her nipple with exquisite sharpness. “Whoa, easy on an old woman, darling.”

Seven looked up immediately, her brilliant eyes wide and concerned. “Did I hurt you, Kathryn?”

Janeway smiled. “Not at all, sweetheart, but just love me, tonight. You don’t have to conquer me.”

“I thought that was what you wanted considering your approach this evening.” But she released Janeway’s wrists and pulled her close in a loving embrace.

“Fair enough,” Janeway murmured as she nibbled along Seven’s jaw line. “I was teasing you, wasn’t I?”

“You were. And you are not old, Kathryn.”

“Old enough, but not so old that I can’t keep up with you, Sprite.”

“’Sprite?’ Is that a new endearment? What does it mean?”

Janeway laughed, charmed as always by that curiosity, so endlessly present and childlike in its intensity. “I’ll tell you later,” she whispered, caressing Seven’s breasts in a circular motion, loving how the tender points jabbed into her palms. Seven’s respiration increased measurably, responding to the sensation as she quivered against her. “In the meanwhile, why don’t you stop worrying about what I want and tell me what you want?”

“Kathryn, I want…”

“Yes, darling, tell me.”

“Use your mouth on me.” Seven cupped Janeway’s face in her hands and kissed her tenderly. “And take your time.”

“Count on it, love.”

Joyously, Janeway mouthed a lazy trail down Seven throat and chest, pausing to pay tribute to her breasts, brushing over the sharp points with the tip of her tongue. Seven moaned quietly and raked her fingers through Janeway’s hair, holding her in place. Janeway was more than glad to linger for as long as Seven wanted, tracing the fine line of areola and tasting the warmth of her body, worshiping her as she deserved.

Finally, urgently, Seven pushed her downward, her desire clear. Janeway smiled as she moved over the smooth muscles of her abdomen, drawing the flat of her tongue over the silky skin, pausing to tease Seven’s navel, causing her to squirm and utter a breathless, “Kathryn.”

Then ever downward, to the thin strands of her triangle that tickled her lips and cheeks, brushing through it to the sensitive flesh awaiting her, inhaling the heady perfume of her body with true enjoyment. Stroking with loving tenderness along the small ridge, she delved deeply into the wellspring of moisture, a flavor that lingered delightfully on her tongue. Using her palms to spread Seven’s thighs wider, Janeway settled in to grant her full attention to pleasuring her partner.

Seven’s fingertips pressed against Janeway’s temples, stroking the skin lightly. Janeway could practically plot the progression of Seven’s pleasure just from the pressure exerted on her skull, how it grew with each passing second until abruptly, the touch was gone. That, Janeway knew, meant her beloved had reached beyond the point in which she could control herself. There was a sudden screech of metal as Seven twisted the steel bar that had been welded to the headboard for just that purpose.

Smiling, Janeway increased the tempo, flicking steadily over the ridge while her index and ring finger gently entered Seven’s rear channel, pushing deep inside her. Finding a perfect rhythm, she thrust and stroked and nuzzled as Seven undulated helplessly beneath her. Then finally, she stiffened, a quivering instant of total perfection and a hoarse “Kathryn”, her release strong and complete, leaving her limp on the sheets.

Janeway bestowed a final few loving kisses on the moist flesh, then nibbled her way up the lean, lengthy body, resting her whole weight on her. Seven wrapped her arms around Janeway and held her tight, hands moving over her back. Janeway could feel Seven’s tongue move over her lips and into her mouth, tasting her own essence. She groaned and returned the kiss, feeling wonderfully aroused and happily anticipating what Seven would do to appease that arousal.

“Kathryn?”

“Yes, darling?”

“That was wonderful.”

“I’m glad, though you always seem to think so.”
“It is always wonderful.” Seven ran her hands over Janeway’s back, down to her buttocks that she squeezed provocatively. “Should I not comment on it?”

“No, it’s rather nice to know my efforts are appreciated.” Janeway kissed her again, a long, slow melting kiss, wanting her to know how much she loved her. “I hope you know you’re always appreciated, as well, even if I don’t always remember to tell you.”

“I do, Kathryn. You do not fail in your attentiveness to me.”

Carefully, Seven rolled them over until they were lying on their sides. Janeway drew back, looking into her eyes. Their quarters always maintained a certain level of illumination with running lights along the base of the walls. They were designed to facilitate movement in case of an emergency, or just in the event she need to take care of a midnight call of biology, but for now, they allowed her to see Seven’s face, the angular planes and smooth skin, the glint of implant framed by a mass of golden hair. Feeling a flood of emotion, tinged ever so slightly with a bittersweet measure of hurt to remind her how precious this relationship was, Janeway hugged Seven fiercely.

“I love you, Annika,” she whispered. “I love you so much.”

“My Kathryn,” Seven murmured in response, hugging her back as if she knew how much Janeway needed her contact in that moment. “Let me love you now. Let me show you how much I want you…how much I need you.”
“Yes, darling. Oh, yes."

Lying in the darkness, Seven pulled Janeway closer, her body warm and soft against her own. She was still covered with sweat and her skin slid smoothly over Seven’s, her scent musky and redolent of satisfaction. Tenderly, Seven kissed her neck and ear, nibbling lightly on the lobe.

“Do you require more, Kathryn?”

Janeway made a cheerful but weary sound. “Oh, darling, no, I’m fine. Thank you for giving me such a lovely time.”

“You are welcome.”

Releasing her, Seven rolled onto her back, feeling the warmth of afterglow spread through her. Janeway snuggled up against her left side, tucked into the shelter of Seven’s left arm. This was perfection, Seven decided, one that she appreciated all the more after almost losing it.

“Kathryn?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“What does ‘Sprite’ mean?”

“It’s an elf or fairy, a mythical, magical creature of endless youth.” Seven could hear the smile in Janeway’s tone as she explained.

Seven considered that, trying to assess which aspect of that explanation applied to her and realized that none of it did. Bemused, she squeezed Janeway lightly. “Endless youth implies immortality. I am not immortal.”

“No, but you’ll always be younger than me.” Janeway turned her head and kissed her collarbone. “And what you do to me is absolutely magical, my love.”

Ah, hyperbole. Seven comprehended that, if not the intent of Janeway’s comment, or her sudden term of endearment. And it did have an aesthetically pleasing sound to the ear. Some words did, she had discovered. “I like ‘Sprite’,” she said finally. “You may use it.”

Janeway started to laugh. “I probably won’t very often. It’s the sort of thing that has to fall into context…such as when our respective ages come up as a topic of conversation.”

“Ah.” Seven nodded thoughtfully.

“Is that your way of telling me you want some new endearments?”

“No, I enjoy all your endearments.” This was degenerating into a rather silly conversation, Seven decided, and while she enjoyed those on occasion, she wasn’t really in the mood this evening. “Do you suppose there is truly an Elthanian rebellion brewing?”

Janeway made a small sound of surprise at the abrupt change in subject, but she didn’t hesitate in her response. “If there is, the last thing we should do is become involved. Even if the Soularri requested it, we shouldn’t interfere with what is basically an internal matter. That, at least, is a much clearer decision than our encounter with the parasites.”

“But what if the Federation could mediate?”

“If the circumstances are right, then yes, I’m sure a few diplomats will be sent, but either way, it doesn’t concern us. We’re headed home tomorrow, and frankly, I’m looking forward to a few months of worrying about nothing more than where we’re going to have dinner.”

“Indeed.” Seven kissed her temple. “It will be good to see our family again.”

“It will,” Janeway agreed. She patted Seven lightly on the stomach. “Are you truly worried about the situation with the Confederation, darling?”

“There is much to admire about this civilization, and much to admire in both the Soularri and the Elthanians. It would be most tragic if they were unable to resolve their differences peacefully.”

“I agree, but it’s out of our hands, Annika. They’ll have to find their own way, just as we do in the Federation.” She snuggled closer, her body growing heavy against Seven’s. “Darling, is there anything else you need to talk about?”

“No, Kathryn. You may sleep.”

“Good night then, my darling.”

“Good night, Kathryn.” She smiled faintly as she heard Janeway’s breathing smooth out into slumber soon after.

But sleep was a more elusive quarry for her, and after a half hour had passed, Seven realized she would not find it by lying there. Easing away from Janeway, she slipped out of bed, padding naked across the deck toward the ensuite. After a quick shower, she dressed in a simple tunic and trousers and left their quarters. She was not in the habit of taking late night strolls around the ship, as Janeway had so often on Voyager, but she did have the occasional need for a solitary walk to clear her mind. It still amazed her at times that she could crave solitude. One of the most difficult things about transitioning from Borg to Human had been losing the constant presence of voices, and yet, here she was only a few years later, roaming the late night corridors of Millennium and able to appreciate their emptiness.

As she walked, she examined her feelings, just as Kes had suggested in one of their sessions. It was not as easy for Seven to analyze her emotions as it was to examine others, Kathryn’s for example. She supposed that was because she was, quite literally, too close to the situation to see it clearly. She wondered if that was why humans were so inconsistent. Did they continually act without knowing the real truth of their feelings? Was that a behavioral pattern she was doomed to repeat in her quest to balance her humanity with her need to maintain her Borgness?

Idly, she realized her wandering had brought her to the deck containing the civilian lounge. Aware that Kathryn preferred this recreational area to the Nexus, she entered, curious about its appeal for her spouse. It was quiet, unlike the crew lounge that would be busy with officers coming off the beta shift and gamma shift personnel taking breaks. A large, white grand piano stood on a dais in the corner, while a small bar fronted the replicators. There was no bartender and very few tables. Nor was there a dance floor or a designated area to play pool and 3-D chess.

So why did Kathryn like it so much?

Bemused, Seven walked over to the replicator and programmed in an herbal tea. Carrying it over to a table, she sat down and sipped the soothing liquid with an eye on the other four people in the lounge. One of them worked in the astrometrics lab, but other than a polite nod in her direction to acknowledge her presence, he did not indicate any further interest. The other three were completely unfamiliar to her but they, like her officer, did nothing more than glance briefly at her and resume their conversations. Nor were they talking about her. Her enhanced Borg hearing easily determined that.

Perhaps there was an illusion maintained here that everyone held the same exact status, no more, no less. In that event, Seven thought she could see the appeal, particularly for her spouse whose burdens occasionally weighed heavy upon her shoulders.

Though it would not hold a full time attraction, Seven decided wryly. For the most part, Janeway enjoyed being the captain and all that entailed, including the fact that people looked upon her to lead them.

The doors to the lounge hissed open and Seven glanced up to see Kes enter the lounge. She spotted Seven and immediately moved over to her table.

“May I join you?”

“Of course, Counselor.”

“Let me find something to drink and I’ll be right with you.”

Seven politely waited until the diminutive Ocampa had retrieved a glass of white wine and taken a seat at her table. As she watched her, she took note of the subtle lines that radiated from Kes’s blue eyes and around her mouth.  For some reason, they were particularly visible under this illumination even though it was not harsh. There were even lighter strands of silver scattered profusely through the feathered blonde hair, and with an abrupt shock, Seven realized that Kes had aged to a point where she actually appeared older than Kathryn. Not that Kathryn was old, of course, but certainly Kes was far from the young woman Seven had met only a few years earlier. She knew Ocampa aged much quicker than most species, but she had believed Kes immune from that because of her enhanced mental abilities and the merging she had gone through with Sek, her holographic counterpart. Perhaps that respite from her Ocampa biology was no longer in effect.

She made a silent mental note to ask Janeway about it later.

“Are you unable to sleep, Seven?”

“I am unsure why. Perhaps because of our return to the Alpha Quadrant in the morning.”

Kes’s even gaze was infinitely compassionate. “I know you’re anxious to see your family again.”

“I have missed Gretchen and Phoebe a great deal, particularly since the incident with the Orion Syndicate.”

“That’s understandable, Seven. You’re worried about them, and until you see them in the flesh, it’ll prey on your mind.” She paused. “What of the rest of your family?”

“Icheb?”

Kes smiled. “I was primarily thinking of your mother.”

Seven felt an icy flicker lance through her, as it did every time her mother came to mind. Rescued from the Borg during their mission to the Delta Quadrant, Erin Hansen was currently in a care facility on Earth. Most of the time, Seven didn’t know how she should feel about her. On occasion, she hoped for a recovery so that she could build some kind of sustained relationship with her. Other times, she felt resentful she even existed, and suitably horrified at herself for feeling that way. Most of the time, she managed not to think about the situation at all.

“Is this a session?” It suddenly occurred to Seven that this may not be a coincidental meeting between them, that Kes's empathic powers may have drawn her to the civilian lounge this evening, brought here by the uneasy thoughts of her patient. If so, Seven wasn't sure if she should be disturbed by that...or oddly comforted.

Kes held up her hand apologetically. “No, of course not, Seven. I just thought you might want to discuss it.”

“I do not.” Seven realized she was being defensive, undoubtedly providing Kes with a large amount of fodder for their next session, but she could not seem to prevent it. With an effort, she took another swallow from her herbal tea and calmed herself. “Are you looking forward to returning to the Federation?”

Kes smiled a touch ruefully at the abrupt change in subject but she did not attempt to ressurect it. “Both lifestyles have their appeal,” she said instead. “The excitement of exploration does become wearing after a time and it’s good to be on leave. But nothing but recreational pursuits also becomes tedious after a few months. Fortunately, being a member of Captain Janeway’s crew grants the best of both worlds.”

“Is Tom looking forward to it?” Seven knew that the backup helmsman had not had a particularly good year, primarily because he had accepted a demotion and was forced to give way to Lt. Nog during any key ship maneuvers. It had been, according to B’Elanna’s cheerfully shared gossip, a bitter pill for Ensign Paris to swallow.

Kes usual bland expression tightened a bit. “I believe he is.”

Intrigued, Seven wondered if Tom’s professional difficulties had carried over into his personal life with Kes. They shared quarters on deck eight. “Where will you be staying while on Earth?”

“Tom’s parents have invited us to stay with them.” Kes didn’t seem particularly enthusiastic about the idea.

“Admiral Paris?” Seven thought about what she knew of him and in particular, his prior relationship with Janeway. They had mended ties after a period of acrimony when Janeway turned down a promotion to admiralship. The few times Seven had met him, she found him less than impressive, but since Janeway had admired him, she had tried to discern admirable qualities in him as well. To date, she had failed utterly.

“His mother is adorable,” Kes went on, obviously aware that she had revealed her apathy. “His sisters have been very welcoming to me.”

Seven wondered what they thought of their brother being with someone who, before long, would look older than their mother. She wondered what the Admiral would think about it. Aware that Kathryn was occasionally conscious of the difference in their ages, she didn't believe it was quite the same situation that Kes and Tom appeared headed for. She wanted to ask the counselor about it, her curiosity piqued, but something inside her suggested that perhaps it was something better left alone. She certainly had a great deal to discuss with Kathryn once she returned to their quarters. Hopefully, the captain would not be too annoyed at being awakened for such a discussion. Perhaps if Seven prefaced it with a certain amount of lovemaking, Janeway would prove more amenable.

She was about to finish up her tea and proceed with her plan when the mug was jolted out of her hand and onto the table where it shattered. The hot, murky liquid splashed across the surface, spilling over the edge, but fortunately, missing Kes who had been tossed to the floor. Seven, better balanced, was able to brace herself and quickly reach down to help Kes to her feet. She looked around to make sure everyone else was all right. They were, though looking quite confused.

“What was that?” Kes asked breathlessly.

“An explosion of some kind,” Seven said grimly. Around her, the lights lowered and took on a yellow hue.

“On the ship?”

“No,” Seven said with certainty, “from the station.”

She was needed on the bridge. As she took a step toward the door, the ship was jolted once more and this time Seven was unable to keep her feet. As she fell, there came a blow from behind her, something hard and heavy striking the back of her head. The last thing she heard before everything went dark was Kes’s scream.

Ro dashed for the turbolift, hauling her tunic on over her sweater. Shaken out of a sound sleep, she had hit the deck running as all good security officers must, yanking on clothes and boots, and plunging through the door before B’Elanna had even managed to fall out of bed. A curt instruction to the nearest turbolift, aided by a security code, sped it on its way, depositing her on the bridge ahead of everyone else on the alpha shift other than the captain. The lighting had a slightly jaundiced hue, indicating a Yellow Alert was established.

She exchanged a look with Janeway as she strode past the command chair on her way to the tactical station, deposing M’Reek from the chair and taking over the controls. “Status?”

“There have been explosions on the station.” M’Reek spoke quickly and quietly, updating his superior. “The captain’s trying to pull us out of here.”

Ro shot a glance over at the helm where Tom Paris was frantically working the board. “Captain, everyone else has the same idea,” he said tightly. “Ships are launching everywhere.”

Janeway, looking impossibly calm and serene in her command chair, lifted her chin. “Then try not to run into anyone on our way out, Ensign.”

Behind her, Ro heard the turbolift open and the footsteps of two more crewmembers entering the bridge.

“Captain?” Kelly essentially jumped off the top level, ignoring the stair as she descended into the lower level where her station, empty and waiting, was located.

“Some kind of conflict is occurring on Hearthstone,” Janeway told her first officer shortly. “Since it doesn’t really concern us, I believe it would be prudent to move up our scheduled departure.”

“Captain, we’re still connected to station. I’m unable to contact anyone to disengage the umbilicals.” T’Shanik’s cool voice issued from directly across the bridge, and Ro looked over to see the young Vulcan woman concentrating intently on the controls she had just commandeered from the gamma shift officer.

“Commander Ro?” Janeway looked expectantly at her as Ro glanced over her shoulder.

“I don’t know if I can, Captain,” Ro responded shortly. She supposed it was a mark of how long she had served Janeway that she knew what she wanted without needing it spelled out. “I don’t really have a shot with the ship’s phasers. It’s far too close. I’ll have to send out a team to cut them away manually.”

“Or we just pull them out at the roots like everyone else is doing,” Tom suggested acidly.

“I’d rather not cause any more damage to the station than I have to,” Janeway objected with a frown.

Another explosion abruptly jolted the ship, sending a quiver through the deck plates and causing more than a few status lights on the displays to change from green to red.

“More damage than what they’re doing to us?” Kelly yelped.

“Take us out, Mr. Paris.” Janeway sounded a bit resigned as she leaned back in her chair, gripping the armrests tightly. “Full thrusters.”

Ro settled deeper into her seat, hanging onto the sides of her console as Paris backed the ship out its docking port. On the viewscreen, tubes carrying atmosphere and power to the ship parted in a shower of sparks and escaping gases, while further explosions sent flames across the dock. There was another jolt, smaller this time, and the ship was free, turning away from the station in a slow, majestic arc. Debris littered the space around them, and other vessels, much smaller than Millennium, navigated wildly in their attempt to flee the station and avoid the heavy bulk of the Federation starship. Paris apparently decided it was up to them to get out of his way, and he continued the turn away from the station, ignoring the untamed gyrations of the traders around them.

“Damage report.”

“Structural damage on decks ten, eleven and twelve,” T’Shanik reported coolly. “Two of the turbolifts are nonfunctional.” She paused. “Lt. Nog tenders his regrets. He’s trapped on deck thirteen, unable to get out section five, crew quarters.”

That explained it. Ro had wondered why he hadn’t relieved Paris, though to be perfectly honest, if sudden maneuvers were needed, she felt a little better with him at the helm than Nog. She also briefly wondered why Seven had yet to appear. Perhaps she was working out of her lab.

“Twelve Forward has been compromised, Captain.” Ro frowned at the data streaming across her board. “Three of the viewports were shattered by one of the umbilicals. Forcefields have been erected and repairs crews have been dispatched.”

“Casualties?” Janeway’s voice was tight.

“Six from the Nexus have been transferred to sickbay, none serious.”

Ro didn’t hear a sigh of relief but she knew Janeway would be feeling it. “Any indication of what exactly is going on?”

“I’ve been monitoring internal communications on the station,” T’Shanik offered. “It’s a coup.”

There was a pause. “Explain.”

“Apparently, a faction of the Elthanian StarScouts has taken over the station. Fighting between them and station personnel has spilled out over all levels. We, and the other vessels docked to the station, are merely collateral damage.”

“What’s the current status of the uprising?”

Something caught Ro’s eye and her fingers flew over the board, bringing the shields up to maximum and arming the phaser banks in anticipation of Janeway’s orders. “I gather the rebels won, Captain. The station is powering up its weapons. We’re being tracked by their targeting array.”

“Raise shields! Go to red alert!” Janeway did not raise her voice, but it did become more penetrating and more authoritative. Ro greatly envied that ability.

Around them, the illumination darkened and took on a red glow from the emergency lights running along the rim of the ceiling. Ro drew up the schematics of the station. “Targeting their weapon systems, Captain.”

“Captain, we’re being hailed,” T’Shanik said in the next instant.

“By the station?”

“No, by the StarRunner.”

Ro shot a quick glance over her shoulder. “Captain, their targeting scans continue to track us, but they’re not firing yet.”

“Stand by, Commander. Mr. Paris, evasive maneuvers, just in case. T’Shanik, on screen.”

What a ridiculous way to run a battle, Ro thought, disgruntled. Fingers poised over the phaser controls, she lifted her head to watch the viewscreen. It shifted from a view of cluttered space to the interior of a StarScout vessel and the elfin features of Intendant Jade.

“Captain, you will not fire on our space station.”

“I can only grant that request if your people offer us the same courtesy,” Janeway responded testily.

“We are currently positioning ourselves between you and the station and will intercept any accidental fire that comes your way.

"Accidental?" Ro muttered incredulously, too low for anyone else to hear.

“This is an internal matter and you must not interfere.”

“Agreed,” Janeway said shortly. “Millennium out.” The viewscreen flickered back to the space. While the brief conversation was going on, Tom had maneuvered Millennium further away from the station and they could see the sleek StarScout ship easing past them to intercept any attempts at aggression from the station.

“Stand down weapons.”

Ro hesitated, not because she intended to disobey but simply because her adrenalin was up and she needed a second to adjust so that she wouldn’t accidentally fire off a shot. “Aye, Captain.”

“Helm, take us out beyond the fifth planet and maintain position there. I want to see how this turns out.”

“Captain, the station is firing on the StarRunner.” T’Shanik’s matter of fact tone belied the drama taking place on the viewscreen.

“So it is,” Janeway said. “How interesting.” A glance back revealed her leaning forward in her chair, watching the viewscreen intently.

Ro, who hadn’t actually powered down the phaser banks, pinpointed her targeting array on the station, nerves humming through her body like a racehorse at the starting gate. She so wanted to shoot something. Nothing showed outwardly, though. She was far too experienced for that.

“Damage?”

“The StarRunner’s shields are holding. The station lacks the weaponry necessary to penetrate them.” Ro was not surprised. Most space stations were not designed for attack. Their strength lay in their defensive capabilities.

“Captain!” Kelly’s voice held a mix of outrage and dismay. “The station is targeting the communications array. They’re firing.”

The crew looked on in horror as deadly beams of light lanced out from the station and struck the Federation satellite, penetrating their meager shields and cutting through the metal hull like a hurricane-driven straw through a tree trunk. Gases and debris puffed out from where the structure had been holed.

“Power up weapons. Take us back in, Mr. Paris. Commander, target their weapons. Fire at will.”

Finally, Ro thought gleefully. “Aye, Captain,” she said calmly.

The ship quivered slightly as the she unleashed her full phaser banks, twin beams that came together at a point on the station’s forward weapons array. A ripple of light appeared as the station’s shields held, dissipating the force and spreading it over the shields in a display of rainbow colors. Immediately, Ro switched over board control to the photon torpedo banks, initiating tube loading. “Phasers are ineffective. Loading torpedoes.” She hesitated ever so briefly, giving Janeway the chance to give or belay the order.

“Fire.”

Ro input the necessary sequence. “Torpedoes away.”

Everyone on the bridge looked up at the viewscreen, watching as two mini comets streaked through space toward the station. Just before they hit, Ro fired the phasers again on a rotating phase modulation, trying to match that of the shields and failing that, then at least weaken them in that particular area. It must have worked because the torpedoes penetrated the shields and impacted on the station itself. There was a flash of light, tiny at this distance but indicative of a huge explosion on the station. Ro exhaled evenly and loaded two more torpedoes, but as she expected, that had been sufficient.

“Hold fire.”

At the same time, Ro became aware that T’Shanik was repeating herself for the third time.

“Captain, we’re being hailed by the StarRunner.”

“On screen.” There was a touch of dryness in Janeway’s voice.

Tazna Jade appeared, her features twisted in anger. “I ordered you to stand down.”

“You hold no authority over me, Intendant,” Janeway said acerbically. Ro wondered how long the captain had wanted to say that. “And even if you did, I will not allow any of my crew to be endangered. As long as the Federation has interests in this area, I am duty bound to protect them.”

“We’ll protect your communications array.”

“You’re barely protecting yourself.” Janeway’s voice was laced with scorn. “Intendant, we’re not running from this fight, so you might as well find a way to incorporate us into you planning. What exactly is going on and what can we do to help?”

Tazna hesitated, varied emotions warring for domination in her face before she finally inclined her head. “Very well.” Her voice grated. “A faction of the StarScouts has commandeered the station.”

“That much we’re aware of.”

“They’ve taken Speaker Jiidan and the rest of the Soularri contingent hostage.”

Intrigued, Ro glanced back at Janeway who was leaning forward in her chair, fingertips pressed together, her stormy gray gaze intent. “How many are we talking about?”

“His family had come to the station to greet him. In addition, there were six administrative ministers and ten members of their support staff.”

“Twenty hostages, then, including two younglings. The insurgent’s demands?”

“The usual, Captain.”

Janeway smiled without humor. “I’m not as familiar with your political situation as I’d like to be, Intendant. We need to talk face to face, rather than through a medium which likely is behing monitored by the station.”

“Understood. Shall I come over there, or will you come here?”

“I’ll come to you. I’ll see you shortly.”

Ro would have raised plenty of objections to the captain’s decision except that she had just received a damage and injury report from her assistant security chief. After leaving the bridge, M’Reek had headed directly to the most damaged part of the ship in order to assist the engineering teams digging through mangled decks. He had just updated her on what he had found in the civilian lounge. Swallowing hard, Ro turned in her seat and looked at the captain who was turning over the conn to Kelly in preparation of transporting over to the StarRunner.

“Captain? I need to speak with you privately.”

Impatiently, Janeway strode briskly into her ready room. “Commander, you’re not going to change my mind on this. We have to rescue those hostages. In the meantime, Kelly is positioning Millennium to retrieve our personnel off the communications array. If the rebels want to blow it up after that, they’re more than welcome to it.”

“It’s not about Hearthstone, Captain.”

At Ro’s flat tone, Janeway turned, frowning. “What is it?”

“Seven’s on her way to sickbay. She was injured during our exodus from the station.”

Janeway had wondered about Seven when the initial explosion on the station jolted her from slumber, waking to find the bed empty and no sign of her in their quarters. She would have even been profoundly worried about it had she been able to spare a second between hauling on her uniform and rushing to the bridge to handle the situation. She supposed a part of her had simply assumed Seven had gone to her lab, which was her prerogative as chief science officer. Certainly, she could conduct her duties during a red alert there as easily as she could on the bridge, and in fact, had access to better resources. She only went to the bridge because Janeway preferred her presence there during any kind of action.

Swallowing back the bile in her throat, torn between her instincts as a woman and her responsibilities as captain, Janeway gestured toward the turbolift. “I’m on my way to sickbay, Commander. Prepare an away team to accompany me to the StarRunner. I’ll meet you in the transporter room in ten minutes.”

Ro looked as if she wanted to argue about it, but all she did was incline her head briefly. “Aye, Captain.”

Taking the turbolift directly from her ready room, Janeway input a command code that sent it careening dangerously through the ship toward sickbay, bypassing some of the safety protocols. The sudden stop as it arrived almost took her off her feet and she stumbled through the doors that hissed open only a millisecond before she plowed into them. Chaos reigned in the medical center but despite it appearance, she knew it was organized chaos. Glancing around, she noted that Pulaski, the Doctor and two of the junior medical officers were at the far end, surrounded by a bluish forcefield which indicated they were operating. Heart in her throat, Janeway weaved her way unerringly through the triage toward them, stopping just short of the barrier. Neither patient was Seven, and the reprieve flooded through her like the dawn’s light after a dark and stormy night.

“Captain.”

She turned and saw Kes across the room, standing next to a biobed. Seven was pale, her blond hair spread over the pillow, dark shadows staining the skin beneath her eyes, looking small and vulnerable on the narrow cushion. Her heart aching as if something with claws was tugging at it, Janeway moved to Seven’s side, looking down into the drawn face. Seven didn’t stir and Janeway lifted her eyes to meet the level gaze of her ship’s counselor. Kes’s features were haggard, a large bruise discoloring one cheek.

“What happened?” Janeway’s voice sounded unnaturally calm to her ears, indicating none of the considerable consternation she was feeling.

“It was the second explosion,” Kes explained. “The ceiling above the civilian lounge collapsed and she was struck by a support as she fell. The doctors say she has a concussion.”

“A concussion?” Seven’s skull was reinforced with Borg metal and a cranial implant that protected her brain. For her to suffer such an injury, the blow of the structural beam must have been immense. “How bad?”

Kes hesitated and then apparently decided to answer honestly without any sugar coating. “Had she been fully human, her skull would have been crushed. But Kathryn, her nanoprobes have already begun the healing process. It should only be a few hours more. She’ll be fine.”

Janeway closed her eyes briefly, but then, aware of the passage of time, forced herself to refocus. Leaning over Seven, she brushed her lips lightly over her forehead. “I’m sorry, darling,” she whispered. “I can’t stay. Just get better and I’ll see you as soon as I can.”

There was no response, but there did seem to be more color in her cheeks, and once again, Janeway knew she had the Borg to thank for her beloved’s life. Perhaps she should have retained her own nanoprobes, just as Seven had wanted. Certainly, it granted her a peace of mind that Seven simply did not enjoy when their positions were reversed and Janeway was the one who was injured.

“Counselor,” Janeway said formally, “will you stay with her? I doubt very much that I’ll be back before she wakes.”

“I will.”

From a nearby table, she picked up a padd and spent a moment inputting data, and then handed it to the ship’s counselor. “Please give her this when she wakes.”

"Consider it done." Kes’s eyes were soft pools of compassionate understanding. “Try not to worry, Captain. ”

Janeway knew that was impossible, worry would be a constant companion in the upcoming hours, but it wasn’t anything she could change. She offered one final look at Seven, imprinting the face on her mind, before entering the turbolift and instructing it to carry her to transporter room one. Ro was already there, waiting with T’Shanik and Nog. She was carrying a phaser rifle. Janeway lifted a brow at it and at Ro’s choices for the away team but she didn’t say anything as they mounted the transporter dais and nodded at the officer behind the control panel. The Confederation did not possess transporter technology, though that was supposed to be on the table for future negotiations. Now Janeway was beginning to wonder if there were going to be any future negotiations at all.

“Energize.”

The StarRunner greeting room was a spacious lounge, complete with chairs and a rounded table. The colors were tan and green, offering a cool, relaxed atmosphere. Though plush, the chairs were slightly narrow, meant to fit the more slender forms of the Elthanians. Tazna was already seated at the head of the table.

“Speak,” She instructed once Janeway and her team had taken their seats.

“It’s obvious that this has moved beyond your ability to control it.” Janeway spoke quickly but with authority. “An objective third party could mediate some kind of settlement between the insurgents and the authorities.”

“You being the objective third party, I suppose.” Tazna shook her head, her face troubled. “They don’t trust you, Captain. The Federation is seen as being very much on the side of the Soularri, particularly after hosting Jiidan on your vessel for the past several months.”

“I hardly had any choice in allowing him to accompany me,” Janeway reminded her. “Intendant, surely you know this incident will not make things better for your people.”

“I do, but sometimes when diplomacy appears to be achieving little, the young feel compelled to extremes in order to enact change. The trouble is now that they’ve committed to this path, I’m afraid more lives will be lost before it’s settled.”

“Then we have to find a way to prevent that.” Janeway leaned forward, linking her hands on the table. “Our transporter technology gives us an edge. Let’s come up with a way to rescue the hostages, but we’ll leave the station in insurgent hands. Then the talking can begin. I’m sure that the Elthanians don’t want to fire on their own people, and I believe the Soularri are smart enough to know they wouldn’t be obeyed if they gave such an order.”

“What of the other people on the station, those who aren’t Elthanian?” Ro asked suddenly.

Janeway glanced at her and then back at Tazna. The Elthanian had a wry expression on her narrow face. “There are key personnel in station administration who have been transferring any non-Elthanian personnel out of there for the past year. The vessels that were vacating the station were those traders and merchants not astute enough to see which way the breeze was blowing. The more savvy of their ilk left our space weeks ago.”

“So you know this has been coming.” Ro stared at her keenly.

“I had my suspicions.”

“And you didn’t report them to the Soularri?”

Tazna’s mouth twisted painfully. “None of them would listen. You must understand, Commander, the Soularri have become complacent, in fact, arrogant in their superiority over the past few decades. Very few will even acknowledge there could be a problem between our peoples, and of those who did, the only one who might have made a difference wasn’t available.”

“Because he was on Millennium,” Janeway said flatly. “Yet, he didn’t believe you when you told him at the party last night what was going on.”

“I didn’t have the time to convince him, Captain. It always takes several conversations to convince the Soularri they aren’t in control of a situation. And I had very little actual evidence other than rumor and an awareness of how angry certain elements of my people have become.”

So Jiidan was actually a proponent of the Elthanians? Janeway had never received that impression while he was on her ship, and she was dismayed that she hadn’t dug further when she had the chance. Too many distractions over the past few months, she reminded herself, and felt a muscle jump in her jaw. “Was he sent with Millennium to remove him from the picture?”

Tazna met her gaze squarely. “The Soularri government could not remove him from the council, Captain,” she admitted. “That was the best alternative they could come up with. He’s been too willing to see the Elthanian side, though frankly, my people wanted him gone just as much. They didn’t need him to alert the council as to what was coming.”

“What is coming, Intendant?”

“Elthania is about to declare its independence, Captain. Now that StarScout Headquarters has been secured, they’ll start calling in all ships which are loyal to their Firsts. And there are significantly more of those vessels in the fleet than those that look to the Confederacy.”

“It appears that the Elthanians have the tactical advantage in this situation,” T’Shanik offered coolly.

“So it would appear but it won’t last,” Tazna said flatly. “That’s what the freedom fighters don’t understand. The Soularri will outfit those remaining StarScout vessels with upgraded weaponry and defensive capabilities. I’m convinced they have far superior technology than that provided to the StarScouts before now. So it matters little if a thousand warriors have spears if the hundred they oppose possess lasers.”

Ro blinked. “Are those the numbers we’re talking about?”

“Not quite so significant, Commander. I believe the Elthanians can call on approximately five hundred StarScout vessels. There are eight hundred vessels currently listed on the registry. There are also certain allies who will join the Elthanians in their struggle to supplant the Soularri as the power in the Confederation. They will commit planetary militias to supplement the StarScout naval force.”

“Does that naval force include you and the StarRunner?” Janeway looked hard at her.

Tazna inhaled slowly. “If this situation is unable to be moderated, Captain, then I stand with my people. They know that despite my moderate views and desire for a peaceful outcome of our differences with the Soularri, I will fight if necessary.”

“Did they know that when they were shooting at you?” Ro asked blandly.

“Or was that just for show?” Janeway asked suddenly, before Tazna could answer. She was painfully aware of the last time she had dealt with Tazna, and the way she had been shamelessly manipulated to make sure the Federation array was constructed in the Elthanian system. “Are you here to convince us to play moderator, Intendant?”

Tazna smiled without humor. “Don’t you trust me, Captain?”

“Not any farther than I can throw you,” Janeway replied, baring her teeth in an answering smile.

Tazna inclined her head. “Fair enough, but I assure you, I desperately want a peaceful resolution to this. So far, the casualty list has been limited to the Soularri Special Guard protecting the delegation. But if we continue along this path, war is inevitable. Millions will die.”

“And just exactly what would a peaceful solution consist of?”

“I believe that if the Soularri will allow an Elthanian presence on the council, even if it’s only one or two representatives, beyond that of the token StarScout Intendant, then my people will feel that we finally have a true voice in how we’re governed. In return, the hostages will be released unharmed and the vessels of the StarScouts will be not be called upon to make a fateful choice in their loyalties.”

“And what would make them agree to that?”

“I told you that Jiidan’s family traveled here to greet him on his return. Are you unaware of who his mate is?”

Janeway lifted her head. “He mentioned she was also on the council.”

“She is the Head of the council, Captain. She is also the heir apparent to the ruling family of Soularri.”

Janeway felt pain thread along her temples as her jaw clenched. That was just perfect. “And how high a regard do the Soularri hold their royal family?”
“Very high, Captain. If she makes a promise to the Elthanians, then her word will be law.”

“Even under duress?”
“I would hope that it would not be under duress. Rescuing the hostages will accomplish that.”

“Not if they wish to retaliate once they’re safe on board Millennium.” She had no intentions of transferring the hostages from one group of Elthanians to another with a murky agenda. Tazna merely shrugged minutely.

“Then perhaps your negotiating skills will prove to be useful, after all, Captain Janeway.”

Head throbbing, Seven opened her eyes, blinking painfully in the stark illumination of sickbay. A quick assessment revealed that all her limbs were intact and other than the lingering ache in her cranium, she had recovered from whatever had happened to her. With an effort, she tried to remember and could only come up with a memory of speaking with Kes in the civilian lounge.

“Seven!” From across the room where she had been conferring with Dr. Pulaski, Kes hurried over, a concerned expression on her face. “How are you feeling?”

“I am functional,” Seven said shortly as she eased upright into a sitting position. A quick glance around the medical center revealed no sign of the captain. “Where is Kathryn?”

Kes hesitated briefly, and immediately Seven focused on her with the precision of a tracking array. “She’s on the StarRunner with the Intendant. They’re conferring on the best way to handle the situation.”

Seven absorbed that. “And what is the situation?”

Quickly, Kes filled her in on what had happened on the station and why Janeway had felt the need to go off with Ro and an away team to the StarRunner. “She gave me this to give to you,” she added, handing her the padd.

Seven looked at it blankly, then back at the counselor, absorbing what she had been told. She didn’t agree with Janeway’s choice of action, of course, but her inattentiveness had resulted in incapacitation at a key moment, therefore, she lacked any influence in the matter. Her first impulse was to transport over to Tazna’s ship, but with Ro also off the ship, Seven was left as second in command and forced to function as first officer to Commander Kelly. Appalled and disgusted at her weakness, she swung her legs off the biobed and attempted to stand.

“Seven, take it easy.” Pulaski’s formidable tones echoed through the sickbay as she strode briskly toward her. “You have a concussion.”

“I am required on the bridge, Doctor,” Seven said coolly as she submitted to the scan by Pulaski’s tricorder. “I believe my nanoprobes have repaired any injuries.”

Pulaski didn’t look happy, but she nodded. “So they have,” she agreed grumpily. “But one of these days, Seven, they’re not going to haul your ashes out of the fire.”

“If I were ashes, there would be nothing of significance to remove from a fire,” she responded, perplexed.

Pulaski exhaled audibly as Kes bent her head to hide her smile. “I meant that your Borg implants aren’t always going to save you.”

“That is understood, Doctor. However, they have saved me this time and it is imperative that I resume my duties.”

“Fine, get out of here, then. God, you’re worse than Kathryn.”

Seven decided that did not require a response and took the opportunity to leave before the doctor changed her mind. In the turbolift, she wondered how Janeway was interacting with Tazna. She did not think they would make a particularly efficient team, but she also knew Janeway was more than capable of setting aside any personal animosity if circumstances warranted it. She supposed Tazna had to be the same or she would not have risen so far in the StarScout hierarchy.

Realizing she still held the padd in her hand, she activated it, expecting one of Janeway’s incredibly romantic messages that she was prone to deliver while unable to be with her. She was surprised to find that while a little of it was romantic, most of it was not. Intrigued, Seven stepped onto the bridge where B’Elanna was covering the first officer station. The relief on her face when she turned and saw Seven was almost amusing. She wasted no time in vacating the post.

“About time you got here,” she muttered as she passed Seven on the way to the turbolift, intent on returning to her beloved engines.

“I have an excuse,” Seven told her sincerely.

She saw a flash of white, sharp edged teeth break into a smile before the turbolift doors hissed shut. Descending to the lower level of the bridge, Seven took over the board and finished bringing herself up to date. She lifted a brow as she realized how Millennium had been positioned.

“We are docked with the communications array?”

“Not that close,” Tom Paris replied before Kelly could. “But as long as both our shields were raised, we couldn’t transport any personnel.”

“Ah.” Seven saw where this was going now. “You have extended our shields around the array.”

“Not only to facilitate the transport, but to further protect the array,” Kelly told her. “Their shields aren’t worth spit if the station decides to start firing on it again. Fortunately, there weren’t any casualties when the station fired on them the first time. When they saw all the ships deserting the station like rats, Lt. Mendez and her people went to red alert, jumped into their space suits and holed up in the safest part of the array.” Seven turned her chair to look back at the first officer. “The astrometric lab,” Kelly added at her inquisitive look. “It’s heavily shielded from gamma and subspace radiation. It’s also in the direct center of the array.”

“Of course.” Curiosity satisfied, Seven turned back to her board. “What of the away team?”

“No word, yet.”

Seven glanced around the bridge. M’Reek was back at the tactical station, and Lt. Wildman had taken over Seven’s science post. Beta shift officers held the rest of the stations, all intent on their duties as the viewscreen maintained a view of Hearthstone. She felt a flicker of anxiety now that they had settled into a holding pattern, waiting for some response, either from the station or the StarRunner. What was Janeway up to, and how much trouble was she planning to involve herself in?

“Lt. Hansen?” Seven didn’t immediately respond to the appellation, so involved was she in her thoughts. “Seven of Nine?” Startled, Seven turned. Kelly was regarding her intently. “Are you all right?”

“I am functional.” Seven felt her cheeks heat. “I apologize, Commander. I am not as familiar with my Starfleet name as I am with my Borg designation. What is it?”

“Would you speculate on how the captain might proceed in this matter?”

Surprised, but pleased at being asked, Seven considered it carefully. It was not yet time to share the information from the padd but she could begin to lay the groundwork. “It is difficult to formulate a theory based on such limited information, Commander. It is uncertain what role the Intendant is playing in this. If she is attempting to resolve the situation peacefully as possible, then she will be assisting in every way she can. If not---“

“If not?” Kelly looked surprised. “Is there some reason to believe she wouldn’t be?”

“These are her people, Commander. And while she wishes to enact change in the political structure of her society through peaceful methods, she still desires that change as much as any of those on the station.”

Kelly looked discomforted at the revelation. “The captain is aware of this?”

“The captain will never entirely trust Tazna Jade.” Seven wondered why she found it amusing to say such a thing. Some strange quirk of Human humor she had acquired somewhere, she supposed. “The captain will take that into account, as will Commander Ro. Starfleet’s single advantage in this situation is our transporter technology. We will be able to remove the hostages easily once any defensive shielding has been removed.”

“But removing the defensive shielding is the key.” Kelly nodded thoughtfully, eyes lidded as she stared at the viewscreen. “That’s exactly what they’re coming up with now.”

“The Intendant will be able to provide data on how the insurgents will proceed.”

“Commander?” Both Seven and Kelly turned their attention to M’Reek who frowned as he studied his board. “We have another ship entering the system. Warp signature indicates it’s StarScout and large.” He input some commands. “It’s the SilverStar.”

“The ship that greeted us upon our arrival in the Beta Quadrant,” Seven identified immediately. She turned to Kelly. “They may be hostile.”

Kelly nodded. The ship had maintained red alert and there was no need to give an order to power up weapons. She leaned forward in her chair, looking particularly attentive. “Mr. Paris, withdraw shields and prepare for evasive maneuvers.”

“We’re abandoning the array?” Lt. Wildman lifted her brows.

“All our people are off it. All that remains on board are Elthanian personnel. If that ship wants to fire on them, I’m afraid it’s their problem.”

“Commander, the SilverStar is powering weapons.” M’Reek’s voice lifted a little, either in excitement or simply anticipation.

“Evasive maneuvers, Mr. Paris.”

“Aye, Commander.”

“Commander, we’re being hailed by the StarRunner, it’s the captain.”

“Janeway to Millennium. Commander Kelly, defensive posture on the approaching ship.” There was a pause. “If necessary, abandon the array.”

Kelly acquired a wry expression. “Understood, Captain. Already on it. Millennium out.”

Seven made a mental note to tell the captain that Kelly had anticipated her order and that when it came to tactical maneuvers, she was Janeway’s equal, even if the rest of her command abilities were still lacking. In the meantime, she hoped that Kathryn would be able to refrain from offering advice and commands from her current position. Kelly had the conn and it was entirely her responsibility to handle the situation.

“Commander, SilverStar is firing.” There was a minor quiver through the ship. “Shields are holding.”

“Full phasers, M’Reek,” Kelly barked. “Target propulsion and weapons. Fire at will.”

On the viewscreen, fiery trails of blue and gold lanced across space, impacting on the defensive shielding of both vessels. Paris handled the ship with a light touch, keeping it between the StarScout cruiser and the array, all the while evading the worst of the fire. M’Reek kept up a steady bombardment from his phaser banks, trying to concentrate on a specific area at any given time. When the StarScout bolstered its shields in that spot, he would instantly shift to another, usually the weakest part of their shields. It was a favorite tactic of Ro Laren and it was apparent she had instilled it in all her team as well.

“Ready torpedoes.”

Seven knew that photon torpedoes were not a favored weapon in a situation like this because they, unlike phasers, had a tendency to remain lethal even if they missed the target. Phasers did as well, of course, but they never shifted in their line of fire. Photon torpedoes continued on their way for at least another ten minutes before an internal command rendered them inoperative, and all the while, they continued to seek a secondary target with their limited navigational systems. In space, that was not usually a problem because the distances involved were so immense. In a star system that also contained a major space station, a communications array, local traffic, various satellites and two inhabited planets, there was a very real possibility of what was deemed ‘collateral damage’. Seven knew that included any unfortunate in the wrong place at the wrong time. She was unsure that Janeway would have resorted to them with M’Reek on tactical rather than Ro, but on the other hand, neither Janeway nor Ro was there.

“Fire.”

“Torpedoes away.”

On screen, the bridge crew watched as two of the four torpedoes launched impacted on the SilverStar, making it shudder. Minor explosions were detected, visible by the expulsion of gas and debris in two separate spots. Hastily, the StarScout peeled off its approach and began evasive maneuvers of its own. Seven made sure she acknowledged the fact that those minor puffs of gas actually meant that the ship’s atmosphere had been vented and any crewmember in the area was undoubtedly dead. It did not necessarily cause her any distress, but she knew that Kathryn would have taken note and mourned the necessity of it.

Seven tracked the remaining two torpedoes that had missed the SilverStar. One headed harmlessly out into space. The other… “Commander, one of our torpedoes has struck Hearthstone. There is damage on several docking ports.”

A glance over Seven’s shoulder revealed that her comment did not unduly disturb Kelly. She merely nodded her head. “Maintain pursuit of enemy vessel, Mr. Paris. M’Reek, keep them interested, but don’t be overly serious about it. We just want them occupied while the captain conducts her business on Hearthstone.”

“Aye, Commander.”

As Seven refocused her attention to her console, she hoped that none of the hostages had been near the damaged docking ports. Otherwise, Janeway would find it to be a very short-lived rescue operation.

“She’s playing us, Captain.” Ro regarded Janeway gravely once Tazna left them alone in the conference room, ostensibly to confer with other members of her crew, but actually to give the Millennium’s contingent a chance to talk over what they had learned.

“Oh, I’m well aware of that, Commander,” Janeway said bitterly. “The problem is, I can’t see any other choice but to do exactly what she wants. The Soularri delegation are hostages, and if a settlement of some kind isn’t reached, then I have no doubt war will be the next step for the Confederation.”

“We could just leave. It is an internal matter, after all.”

Nog made a small sound of protest at Ro’s plainly stated words, undoubtedly at the proposed loss of profit for the Federation, but didn’t speak beyond that. T’Shanik’s raised brow indicated her objection to the idea. But neither junior officer appeared willing to interrupt the conversation between the captain and her security chief.

“Don’t think I haven’t considered that, but the Federation really wants this treaty with the Confederation. They know that the Soularri have technology beyond what they’ve shown, and if we can call on allies a quadrant away, particularly if the Borg or the Dominion threatens again, then we have to take that opportunity. At the very least, it offers an escape route should anything ever happen to the Federation.”

Ro stared at her, rocked. “I hadn’t…thought about that.”

“Very few people have,” Janeway said dryly. “The Dominion War, and before that, the Borg incursions into the Alpha Quadrant, shook up the Federation and Starfleet Headquarters considerably. They started thinking long-term disaster strategy and this is part of it. But the Confederation doesn’t offer much of an option if they’re immersed in a civil war.” She tapped her fingers restlessly on the table. “In the short term, we need to do what we can to maintain the lines of communication between the Soularri and the Elthanians. The Federation can send more diplomats and negotiators later.”

“So we save the hostages.” Ro glanced at the door that Tazna had used earlier, frowning as she thought. “If this is some sort of setup, can we expect an easy ‘rescue’?”

Janeway shook her head. “Somehow I doubt it. We have to proceed as if this is exactly as it appears to be, as much for our own safety as for that of the hostages. Tazna Jade doesn’t figure into it other than a possible wild card.”

The door opened silently and Ro smiled grimly, glad she had kept an eye on it. A quick, warning glance at the captain forestalled what else she was about to say. Alert to Ro’s expression, Janeway turned immediately to face Tazna who had returned with two members of her crew.

“Will you help us, Captain?” Tazna came right to the point.

“We will,” Janeway said, with little inflection in her voice. “We’ll need complete schematics for the station, and what you can give us on any potentially exploitable areas. We also need to know where exactly the hostages are being held. We want to get in and out as quickly as possible.”

“I understand.” She was about to say more when there was a small chirp from the communications device on her belt. Tazna activated it by pressing the glowing light. “Go ahead.”

“Intendant, a vessel has just entered the system. It’s the SilverStar.”

“Breeden Welf’s ship.” Tazna frowned and glanced at Janeway. “He’s a loyalist, Captain, and will unquestionably stand with the freedom fighters.”

Watching Janeway’s face, Ro detected a flash of not quite fear, but certainly unease. She wondered how much of it was for her vessel…and how much it was for Seven left behind and helpless in sickbay.

The captain touched the communicator on her chest.  “Janeway to Millennium. Commander Kelly, defensive posture on the approaching ship.” She paused. “If necessary, abandon the array.”

“Understood, Captain. Already on it. Millennium out.”

Ro knew no matter how much Janeway hated the situation, she wouldn’t hesitate to accede to the reality of it. There was another hail from Tazna’s people.

“Intendant, the SilverStar is engaging the Millennium.”

“Understood.” Tazna fixed a look on Janeway. “Captain, we’re running out of time. Perhaps we should use this distraction to our advantage.”

To her credit, Janeway didn’t waver, though Ro was sure a part of her was being torn up inside at not knowing what exactly was going on with her ship. “Agreed. Find us the plans for Hearthstone.”

As Tazna moved over to the table where she brought up the station schematics, Janeway drew Ro aside. “Commander, there may be fighting. Your away team?”

“Nog can handle himself,” Ro told her in the same quiet tone, too low for anyone other than the two of them to hear. “He’s been in battle before, but best of all, he knows when it’s time to look for a more profitable position. I trust him completely. He’s also good at knowing when something isn’t quite what it seems. I believe we need that while dealing with Tazna.”

“And T’Shanik?”

Ro smiled thinly. “She’ll be invaluable at pointing out any tiny flaws in the plan, Captain. We all need Vulcan logic in moments like these, even if she doesn’t have the experience to which we are accustomed.”

Janeway, probably thinking of the same Vulcan with decades of experience to whom Ro was referring, issued a sigh of agreement. “Very well, Commander. But let’s make it quick. If more ships appear in this system, we’ll have to withdraw completely and let the Confederation sort out this mess on its own.”

They moved over to the table and looked down on the smooth, translucent surface that was now displaying detailed images of the space station. Ro lifted a brow as the view shifted slightly, showing updated information as it happened.

“There’s new damage to the station’s starboard docking ports,” Tazna said professionally. “One of Millennium’s missiles went astray during their battle with the SilverStar. The station has lost all power through that section and there are indications that most of the shielding on the starboard side is down as well.”

“That’s where we’ll go in,” Ro decided instantly. “Where’s the probable location of the hostages?”

“The hostages are being held here,” Tazna responded, pointing to a spot near the center of the station.

Ro looked aslant at her. “You know that for sure?”

“Yes. When I was trying to mediate the situation, I was informed this was where they were being held, unharmed. It’s actually the Soularri level so they’ll even be comfortable during their captivity. Its environmental controls are set to their standards.”

“And the insurgents told you this before or after they fired on you?” Janeway asked mildly.

Ro felt her lips twitch, but she swallowed back her smile. The skin around Tazna’s eyes tightened slightly, but her voice remained completely calm. “Before, Captain. They did not begin firing on me until I demanded the hostages be turned over to me. I may have mentioned that the Federation would have a stake in this as well.”

“That’s when they targeted the array,” T’Shanik noted. A thin eyebrow lifted. “It made us a factor in this battle whereas prior to that, Starfleet property was being ignored.”

Ro exchanged a glance with Janeway and made a mental note not to let Tazna get behind her at any point during the upcoming operation. With friends like that, who needed enemies?

“Will they be expecting you to attempt to free the hostages?”

“Unlikely, but they will expect it of you.”

Janeway looked thoughtful for a moment. “Then we’ll have to leave. They’ll accept that, particularly now that we have all the Starfleet personnel off the communications array.” She tapped her communicator. “Janeway to Millennium.”

“Kelly here, Captain. We continue to engage the SilverStar, though in pursuit mode only.”

“Break off your pursuit, Commander. I need you back here. We’re beaming off Tazna’s vessel. Prepare for an immediate return to the Alpha Quadrant.”

“Captain?”

“You have your orders, Commander.” Janeway injected a certain inflection into her voice. “When you arrive, please have Lenara Kahn beam over eight of the transporter boosting units that Erin and Magnus Hansen designed for use on the Borg cube. We don’t want our transport interfered with by the station. Is that clear?”

There was an unusually long pause. Ro hoped to hell that M’Reek was offering his take on what the captain was attempting. But as it turned out, Kelly was receiving better advice.

“Aye, Captain, the units will be transported immediately upon our arrival. Lt. Hansen is preparing what you need now.”

In one fell swoop, Kelly not only was able to acknowledge her awareness of the captain’s plan, but to let her know Seven was up and functioning normally, something Janeway desperately needed to hear. Her eyes were a bright blue when she glanced at Ro and smiled faintly.

“Captain Janeway?” Tazna was regarding her with concern. Janeway merely offered her a bit of a cheeky grin. “Trust me, Intendant.”

Tazna looked as if that were the absolute last thing she was capable of doing, but with a visible effort, she dipped her head in a stiff nod. No one spoke in the moments that followed except for Nog and T’Shanik who were having a quiet and apparently private conversation in the corner. From appearances, Ro decided that Nog was explaining exactly what was going on for the Vulcan, who seemed somewhat perplexed.

“Intendant, Millennium has returned to the system.” A call came in for Tazna at the same time Kelly contacted Janeway.

“Captain, prepare to receive your equipment.”

On the table, eight armbands and three transporter boosters materialized with a hum and a bubble of sparkles. Ro already had her tricorder out and was scanning the biomasking units, programming them to activate on a single command. At her gesture, Janeway, Nog and T’Shanik moved forward and took the indicated armbands, strapping them around the upper part of their arms. After Ro had fastened hers, she placed the other four, each marked with the individual names of the away team, in a rough circle on the deck.

Janeway tapped her communicator. “Millennium, prepare to beam us up on my mark. Once we’re on board, set course for our jump coordinates, warp factor five.”

“Understood, Captain.”

Janeway looked at her and Ro input the last of the necessary commands. “On three, Captain. One, two, three.” She activated all the armbands.

“Energize.”

After the four bands dematerialized, there was a confused pause before her people let Tazna know Millennium had just vacated the system at warp five with the SilverStar trailing behind to make sure they were actually leaving. The expression of complete befuddlement on Tazna’s face offered some amusement for Ro and undoubtedly, knowing her captain as she did, provided more than a certain satisfaction for Janeway.

“Captain?”
Janeway smiled. “I wonder if the station noticed that four more Elthanians appeared on your vessel at the same time ‘we’ beamed back to our ship?”

“Unlikely, Captain,” T’Shanik interjected. “The station would be monitoring Starfleet signals. As far as they are concerned, one Human, one Vulcan, one Ferengi and one Bajoran beamed off StarRunner and reappeared on Millennium.”

Tazna frowned, looking around at them all, and then stared at the armband on Janeway’s arm. “It disguises your bio signature,” she concluded after a few seconds consideration.

“Originally as Borg, but Seven was able to reset them to what we needed. Now, the next step is finding a way to beam onto the station without the insurgents noticing.”

“How will you utilize the technology? Your ship is no longer in range.”

Ro took note that Tazna was cognizant of transporter limitations. She must have been studying all the Federation technology intensely in the past year. Janeway reached over and picked up one of the booster rods, setting it up on the deck.

“We’ll be using these,” she explained as she worked. “Once they’re set up, they can provide an emergency transporter but unfortunately, it’s limited to site-to-site. Wherever we beam in, those are the coordinates in which we’ll have to transport back.” She picked up another rod and placed it at an angle to the first one while Ro looked after the third rod, creating a triangle. She offered a significant look to Tazna.

“So you’d better pick a particularly secure spot on the station for us to get those hostages out, Intendant.”

Janeway wished there was some way she could speak with Seven but it was impossible. Not that it was the first time their duties had separated them, but it never grew easier, no matter how long they’d been together. She supposed it was enough to know Seven was well enough to resume her duties. She hoped the personal message she left on Seven's padd would suffice.
“Captain, are you ready?”
Janeway nodded briefly and took her place with the others waiting to beam over to Hearthstone. Ideally, Tazna Jade should have remained on the ship to keep the insurgents busy while Janeway and company infiltrated the station, but she insisted on coming along. Fortunately, a member of her crew was very familiar with one of the leaders in the rebel group, yet was loyal to Tazna in wanting a peaceful resolution to their conflict with the Soularri. She would try to convince him and the rebel leaders to take a more moderate view, while Millennium’s away team, along with Tazna and two of her best warriors, would rescue the hostages.

<>

At least, that was the theory. Whether it worked out that way remained to be seen.

Janeway touched the butt of her phaser briefly as she felt the transport initiate. This was different from normal ship beam outs, the boosters leaving her with a slightly displaced feeling once she materialized. It took her a few seconds to realize she had actually arrived.

Swallowing hard, she glanced at Ro. “Scans?”

Ro, studying her tricorder, shook her head. “Nothing, Captain. There’s no indication that our transport has been detected.”

“Excellent.” She glanced at Tazna. “Intendant, you’re the most familiar with this layout. Take the point. The rest of you, look lively and take care. This place looks like it’s about to fall apart around our ears.”

If Tazna Jade objected to Janeway taking command, she didn’t say anything. Instead, she lifted her rifle…a slender weapon that appeared as if dropping it would make it shatter into pieces but as deadly as any Starfleet had encountered…and started off down the dark and scorched remains of a corridor. Around them, twisted metal and hanging wires provided a dangerous obstacle course, forcing them not only to watch where they stepped, but also make sure they didn’t hit their heads. They had beamed as far into the damaged section as possible without being detected, away from the destroyed docking ring and close to the central Soularri level. The sensors in this section of the station were either completely destroyed or transmitting faulty readings thanks to the stray torpedo from Millennium. Janeway believed the entire graduating class of Starfleet Academy could wander around in the bowels of the station without anyone being the wiser. That would change once they reached the undamaged part of Hearthstone where the sensors were still active.

Atmosphere was present but it was not being recycled, filled with arid fumes and smoke that hung motionless and stung the eyes. Fortunately they had foreseen this and the Elthanians had provided the away team with re-breathers. Janeway gratefully sucked air through hers. It didn’t taste particularly fresh, but it was free of anything that would damage her throat and lungs. She presumed they had more to outfit the Soularri. If not, they would be carrying the fuzzy little beings on their backs as they made their escape.

The temperature was exceedingly low in this section, heat leeching through the damaged bulkheads. She shivered as she carefully picked her way through the debris, noting frost on some of the walls. T’Shanik had been assigned to keep a close eye on the structural damage around them. If any spot appeared particularly weak and subject to rupture. Janeway wanted would have some time to avoid it and take cover before they were sucked into the outer docking ring and the unforgiving vacuum of space.

As she followed Nog through the narrow passageways, Janeway observed the two Elthanians in the lead, Tazna and her custodian, Noran Drel. He was a completely different male than the catlike creature, Rynard, who had served on StarRunner during Janeway’s initial meeting with the Confederation. In fact, Janeway realized she should have noticed that all the other species that had served with Tazna when she was only a First were no longer present, including her Healer, the reptilian Marin.

It had not escaped her attention that Ro had positioned the away team so that the captain was in the middle. T’Shanik was right behind her, then Tazna’s other associate, Soudar Caz, before Ro brought up the rear. Janeway supposed she should have expected it, but it still made her feel a little confined, and chafing at the necessity of it.

Tazna suddenly paused up ahead and Janeway shouldered past Nog and Noran to see what was happening. It was their first body.  The mangled remains of an Elthanian lay against one wall. A little further on, the tiny body of a Soularri guard lay crumpled. It was hard not to feel a pang for the royal soldier who appeared so tiny and helpless…until one realized the mortal wounds on the Elthanian had resulted from the claws of the Soularri who had physically tore him apart before succumbing to the laser wound in his chest. Both species were deadly, Janeway reminded herself, and unless they could find some common ground between them, this was going to get a lot worse before it got better.

“Here,” Tazna said shortly, gesturing toward a ladder that ran up the bulkhead and disappeared into the murky reaches of the upper level. “This leads to the Soularri Sector. There will be working sensors here. If they see this large a party moving around, it’ll cause suspicion. Perhaps you should remain here.”

“We have it covered.” Janeway nodded at her team and adjusted her bio-unit so that she no longer appeared as an Elthanian. Now the device completely masked her bio-signature to the sensors.

Tazna glanced at her scanning device and then back at Janeway. “Why didn’t you program that into the your masking units in the first place?” Her tone was slightly accusatory.

“Because it steadily degrades the signature patterns, causing the units to fail after three hours,” Janeway explained shortly. Nor would it help if one of the rebels actually laid eyes on them, but until either happened, she and her crew were essentially invisible.

“Hunting mode,” Tazna told her officers who nodded somberly.

Does that mean we’re going to eat anyone we meet? It was on the tip of Janeway’s tongue. She really, really wanted to say it, but finally she decided discretion was the better part of valor and kept her mouth shut. She did exchange a glance with Ro, and from the glint of amusement in her eyes, Janeway knew the Bajoran had a pretty good idea of what she was thinking.

“Let’s go,” she said instead.

As she climbed the ladder into the next level, Janeway felt anticipation increase her heartbeat. Forcing herself to breathe evenly, she tried to damp down her burgeoning anticipation, knowing she had to be cool for whatever happened. Caz offered his hand as she reached the top, and she gracefully allowed him to boost her onto the deck. Glancing around at her surroundings, she squinted a little. It was much brighter here and there was already a hint of humidity in the air. She tucked away her re-breather and drew her phaser. T’Shanik and Nog quickly followed suit, while Ro swung around the phaser rifle she had been carrying on her back.

Creeping along the corridor, Janeway could feel the heat beginning to rise. A step through a door nearly wrenched her knee as the gravity increased. Belatedly she noticed the sign on the wall. It was in Elthanian but undoubtedly said; “Now Entering Soularri Sector”. She shot a sour look at Tazna. She could have used a little warning.

However, Tazna was holding her hand up, indicating that they needed to stop. They had been moving without speaking as it was, but now they froze in place, damping down all sound. Tazna peered cautiously around the corner and held up two fingers, presumably to indicate there were two guards.

She looked over at Ro, pointed at her and at Noran, gesturing in unmistakable sign language that they were to tackle the guards. Janeway realized that by putting Tazna on point, she had abdicated her command of the situation and once more she felt manipulated. It wasn’t any wonder Tazna hadn’t objected. A subordinate would have looked to her for orders. Tazna, who naturally took charge as all commanding officers did, probably didn’t even think of it.

Janeway exhaled silently and swallowed back her irritation. What was important was the mission, not who commanded it. They had to work together in order to bring this off successfully. If that meant an occasional friction where one of the commanding officers had to give way, then Janeway could do it. To her gratification, Ro did look at her for permission before she made a move to join Noran.

A brief nod and then both officers were slipping around the corner with a speed that left Janeway a little breathless. There were a few seconds of silence, a couple of muffled thumps, and then Tazna was moving swiftly around the corner. Janeway was about to join her when a hand on her arm stopped her.

“Lieutenant?”

Nog’s craggy features were grave. “Too easy, Captain,” he muttered quietly. “The hostages are their main assets, and you don’t protect assets so lightly. My ears are tingling. I don’t like this at all.”

Janeway stared at him and then nodded. “Keep alert. At the first sign of trouble, we pull out.”

“Aye, Captain,” he said, but he still looked troubled as he followed her around the corner.

Ro was working at the door as the three Elthanians kept watch. Tazna glanced at Janeway with an inquiring expression, as if wondering why it had taken so long for the rest of the away team to join them. The captain didn’t enlighten her, instead looking at Ro who had just managed to pry off the panel.

“Alarms?”

“Plenty,” Ro responded shortly. “I’m taking care of them, Captain.”

Janeway shot a nervous glance down the corridor. It took several, interminable minutes before the door finally and unexpectedly hissed open. Immediately, Tazna, Caz and Noran dashed through, weapons at the ready. Janeway exhaled in exasperation as she made her team take a moment to regroup before they cautiously brought up the rear.

Inside, it was like stepping onto a planetary surface, or a holodeck. Greenery festooned every square inch of the immense room, completely hiding the metal of the space station and giving every impression of a clearing deep in a primeval forest. A small stream even wandered through the large boulders and bushes, which provided a great deal of cover for the inhabitants…something that was realized by the preceding Elthanians only when they had been captured.

Amused, Janeway looked at Tazna and her people who were wrapped up in some kind of mesh netting, completely immobilized. They were surrounded by small forms that bristled with makeshift weapons, obviously scavenged from what they had on hand in their crew quarters. Teddy bear like faces turned to regard the newcomers suspiciously before one stepped forward, waving the others off.

“Captain Janeway!”

At Jiidan’s greeting, the rest lowered their weapons except for the five standing over the ensnared Elthanians.

“Believe it or not, Minister, we’re here to rescue you,” Janeway told him. “Along with the Intendant and her crew. We don’t have much time if we want to transport you to Millennium.”

Showing his mettle, Jiidan didn’t hesitate or waste time asking questions. At his gesture, Tazna and the others were released while the rest gathered together. That included two little cubs who peeked out from behind the legs of a female dressed rather ornately in emerald robes. Their cuteness factor was unbelievable and Janeway gritted the back of her teeth. How was one supposed to take these people seriously during times of political strife? She supposed that was what other species in the Confederation found so difficult before the Soularri’s superior technology convinced them otherwise.

“Let’s go,” she said, motioning them toward the door.

Flashes of laser fire aimed at the ceiling drove them back, and as Janeway took cover with Ro, she frowned at the group of Elthanians who had taken command of their only exit. “Hmm, I wonder what took them so long.”

A voice echoed through the garden. “Captain Janeway, please do not resist. We do not want to harm you. We only want the Federation to assist in our struggle against a tyranny.”

“How did they know we were here?” Ro’s dark eyes were hard as she peered over the boulder.

“I suspect the rebels knew every move at the moment it was made, Laren.”

There was a motion from the left and Janeway looked away from Ro’s puzzled face to see Tazna duck through the greenery to join them.

Her expression was almost, but not quite contrite. Janeway thought it was rather a weak effort. “I’m sorry, Captain. There’s no way for us to return to the beam out coordinates. We have no choice. We must surrender and hopefully you’ll be able to convince the Federation to negotiate on our behalf.”

“Oh, I don’t think so.” Janeway tapped her communicator twice and smiled rather smugly at Tazna’s bemused expression. “I always have a contingency plan, Intendant.”

Seven of Nine manned the first officer station and restrained herself from ripping it from its mount. She positively hated having to sit passively on the bridge while her spouse roamed around playing Starfleet heroine on an enemy space station.

After making a grand show of vacating the Elthanian system at warp five and finally shaking off the SilverStar with a small transwarp jump of a couple of lightyears, Millennium had made a gradual circle back. Once it entered the system, it instituted silent running. The ship didn’t possess a cloaking device like those loaned to Starfleet by the Romulans during the Dominion War, but even temporary access to the technology had taught Federation engineers a trick or two about ship camouflage. Newer vessels were equipped with extreme modifications to the deflector dish that enabled a ship to disguise its signature as an asteroid. It meant dropping all shields, setting scans to passive mode and lowering power levels to the very minimum of life support…extremely risky at the best of times…but it could be done. It also meant turning off the warp drive, leaving them with impulse engines only as they drifted in the shadow of a moon orbiting the fifth planet. Kelly hadn’t wanted to do it, but the orders on the padd Janeway left with Seven offered her no choice.

So far, the SilverStar, which had returned to prowl about Hearthstone, offered no indication it had noticed Millennium’s presence. Seven thought the Confederation ship was offering a bold display considering their weapon array had been disabled by the photon torpedo that had hit them in their earlier battle. For that matter, StarRunner didn’t seem aware of them either.

“There’s the signal!”

M’Reek’s words galvanized the crew and immediately orders started raining down on them as the illumination brightened from the very dim silent running to the brighter, but more garish crimson of red alert status. “Full power, shields up, weapons locked. Helm, full impulse. Take us into orbit with the station.”

“Commander, the StarRunner is moving to intercept.”

“Tell them to stand down. This is part of the rescue mission.”

There was a brief pause. “No response, Commander. They’re powering up weapons.”

Kelly made a face, a mix of surprise and grudging admiration, undoubtedly at Janeway’s anticipation of this move. “Activate the self-destruct in the transporter booster rods.”

Seven transmitted the order, and the vessel headed towards them abruptly shook as an unexpected explosion ripped through its interior. Seven wondered if she might have set the strength of the hidden devices in the rods a little high. The StarRunner didn’t so much alter course as stagger drunkenly across Millennium’s path and out the other side, trailing debris and smoke from it upper saucer.

Grandly, Millennium continued on its path past the drifting StarRunner and the weaponless SilverStar. The latter made a move to intercept before a warning shot across its bow kept it in place. Once in range of the station, Ops locked on to the captain’s communicator and beamed up everyone in her immediate area, depositing them on one of the large cargo hold platforms in Millennium’s belly where a security team was waiting to disarm them all.

Seven was already headed to the turbolift as Kelly immediately ordered the ship out of the system with a heading for the Raelien Republic and its concealing nebula. She arrived in the cargo bay in time to witness Tazna and Janeway facing off. The shorter stature of Janeway indicated no give before the much taller and imposing Elthanian, her face shoved pugnaciously into Tazna’s. Seven thought she looked more than a little like B’Elanna in that moment. Perhaps she had retained certain body language from the time she and the Klingon had switched bodies. Certainly, had she sported a bat’leth, it would be stuck under Tazna’s chin with the edge on her throat. Seven wondered if she should make an attempt at mediation.

“You betrayed us.” Tazna’s fists were clenched.

Janeway laughed without humor. “You mean, before you had a chance to betray us, Intendant? You should be careful about trying to manipulate the Federation into becoming involved with your business. Because when we do, it’s always going to be on our terms and not yours.”

A female Soularri interrupted this rapidly deteriorating conversation. She was unfamiliar to Seven, though she suspected this was Jiidan’s mate, J’tal. “Captain Janeway, I insist you return us to Soularri space immediately.”

Janeway took a step back from Tazna and immediately composed her features into a more accommodating expression. “I’m sorry, Your Highness, but that won’t be possible at this time. Your people must come to terms with what happened here. Unless it’s settled here and now, it will only become worse before it gets better.” She knelt down so that she was at eye level with the princess. “You have spent the last few decades administering the Elthanians as a benevolent parent watching over children who have done wrong. The problem is, they grew up without you noticing and, like all children, it’s time to allow them their own path. If you’re fortunate, they’ll find it with you, but I can assure you, they’re more than willing to find it without you. Is that what you really want?”

J’tal looked extremely troubled. “So much has happened---“ she began.

“I agree, and that’s why you need a day or two to process this and not make any fatal decisions. That goes for the Elthanians, as well. I’m sure they need time to reflect and understand what this means. We’ll be remaining here for the next few days, and when it’s time, I hope that you will grant me leave to mediate any talks that occur between your people.”

J’Tal glanced at Jiidan, and at his nod, turned her attention back to Janeway. “We will consider it, Captain.”

“My crew will escort you to guest quarters. Please inform me if you require anything else to make your stay here more comfortable.”

Janeway motioned at Ro who herded the Soularri from the cargo bay, leaving Tazna, the rebel leaders and the rest of the Elthanians regarding her suspiciously. “I suppose you will escort us to your prison facilities, Captain,” Tazna said sourly.

“On the contrary, Intendant, your quarters are already prepared. I trust you will appreciate they are located some distance from the Soularri.”

“And my ship?”

“I understand repairs are being undertaken by the remaining station personnel,” Janeway said pleasantly. “In the meantime, I need to speak with my superiors. Swift hunting to you, Intendant.”

Janeway nodded briefly and strode briskly for the door. As she passed Seven, she shot her a look that was both resignation, in that this was not the time for them to reunite, and entreaty that Seven would understand. Seven did and attempted to convey that understanding with the most tender expression she could manage under the circumstances. It must have worked because Janeway’s step abruptly lightened, her shoulders squared and Seven could see a small smile suddenly break out over the full mouth before the cargo bay doors clanged shut.

Seven looked back at the Elthanians. “This way, if you please,” she said politely.

She was unsurprised when Tazna fell into step with her as they left Millennium’s loading area and headed for the guest quarters.

Tazna glanced ruefully at her. “I did not anticipate the course of action your mate chose. Apparently, I have not learned enough about you.”

Seven smiled faintly. “Humans have a saying, Intendant. ‘Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me’. I can assure you that Kathryn rarely allows herself to be fooled a second time.”

“I’ll remember that, particularly in the upcoming days.”

“I am certain that you will,” Seven agreed as she handed the group over to Kes who was much better at settling guests into their quarters than she was.

In the empty corridor, she hesitated, unsure where to head next. Janeway would undoubtedly be busy for the rest of the day, preparing a communications packet for Starfleet Headquarters. With the communications array damaged, they would have to resort to methods used in their first mission when small probes were shot through a slipstream conduit to exit in Federation space. How long it would take for a passing ship to pick up the navigational beacon was unknown. Of course, if it was targeted at the jump coordinates that Millennium was initially supposed to make on this day, there would probably be someone already headed in that direction, dispatched when Starfleet noticed the absence of their deep explorer.

She would need to prepare the probe, readying it for the rigors of slipstream transport. She headed for her astrometrics lab, and after setting her team to work on assembling the outer casing, she retired to her office to go over the various schematics for the navigational and propulsion systems. There were several variations of each, and during their first year in the Delta Quadrant she had mixed and matched them liberally in an attempt to create the most efficient probe. She had yet to find the perfect blend of programming, and a part of her was pleased at the opportunity to try again.

Of course, there would be no communications array in the Gamma Quadrant. Assuming that would be their next mission, she would have other opportunities to develop perfect probes, but for now, it was an efficient way to pass the time until she was able to be with Janeway again.

The rest of the afternoon went by quickly as she and her scientists constructed the probe, and it was well into the beta shift before she was satisfied with its construction. Leaving her night shift to finish up the final details, she left the lab and headed for her quarters, disappointed to find them empty. A check with the ship’s computer revealed that Janeway was in the conference room, undoubtedly with representatives from both contingents. The captain would be anxious to lay a foundation for future negotiations and initiate a dialogue between both Elthanians and Soularri that would last until the Federation could send more diplomats. Until then, Seven and the rest of Millennium could expect the mission to be extended for as long as necessary. She was anxious to return home, which was ironic considering her initial antipathy toward the Federation during their seven-year journey on Voyager. However, she completely understood why Janeway had to complete this task to her own satisfaction.

Feeling a bit weary, Seven undid the bun at the back of her neck, allowing her hair to fall freely about her shoulders. Shaking her head to spread it out, she undid her tunic and laid it carefully over the back of the chair. As she stared through the viewports into the dark expanse of space and the leading edge of the Raelien nebula, she allowed her mind to drift over the past year, contemplating both the good and bad, and all the things she had learned about herself and her beloved spouse.

Closing her eyes, Seven crossed her arms over her chest, almost in a hug, allowing the various emotions and memories to wash over her. Despite their recent differences, she had never loved Janeway more, nor could she remember wanting and needing her as much as she did now. To have taken that for granted, to have handled it so carelessly, without thought or regard for the consequences her actions could and did have, made tears sting the back of her eyes. She blinked them back and regulated her respiration, seeking to regain her normal calmness. It was so easy for her to impose her will on her physical reactions, able to make minute adjustments to nanoprobe specifications and production with merely a thought, but her Human self…her soul, as it were…still remained so strange to her, such unknown territory.

She counted herself fortunate that she did not have to chart those waters alone, that there would always be someone at her side. A smile touched the corners of her mouth, and a lightness of being spread through her knowing that soon, she would be with Kathryn, to bask in her humanity with all its flaws and appreciate it all the more for that imperfection. Her body responded instinctively, anticipation increasing her heart rate and sending a rush of desire though her that hardened her nipples against her sweater and caused moisture to dampen her undergarments. She trusted that Janeway would be equally anxious to make up for their time apart with a physical display of their love. After all, missions that entailed a certain amount of danger, combined with the perfect opportunity to not only defeat her enemies but possibly embarrass them as well, left the captain feeling quite amorous.

If not, Seven suspected it would take very little effort to convince her that she should be.

When Janeway finally reached her quarters that evening, Seven was already there, standing in quiet contemplation before the viewports that looked out onto the space station. Her hair had been let down from its customary conservative style, and her tunic was draped over the nearest chair, leaving her clad in the blue, form-fitting sweater. She turned as Janeway entered, and her ice blue eyes warmed perceptibly at the sight of the captain. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to. Quickly, Janeway crossed the space between them and fell into her embrace, feeling the strong, slender arms encircle her, holding her tight. It was like entering a circle of warmth from a welcoming fireplace on a cold winter’s day. Tucked up under her chin, Janeway buried her face into Seven’s throat, inhaling the sheer wonderfulness of her with every breath.

“I am gratified you are well, Kathryn,” Seven murmured into Janeway’s hair.

“Oh, God, I’m glad you’re all right, too.” Janeway hugged her tightly, wanting nothing more than to stay like this for an eternity. “You scared me this morning.”

“Not as much as you frightened me,” Seven responded. “You were not there when I regained consciousness.” She paused, her hands rubbing lightly on Janeway’s back. “I am unused to that.”

“I wanted so much to be there for you. It just wasn’t possible.”

“I know, Kathryn.” Seven kissed her ear, and then lower, on the soft skin where jaw met lobe. “I wanted very much to be with you on the away mission. If I had not been so unwise as to be injured…”

Janeway laughed softly. “Darling, I doubt very much you had much control over it.” She snuggled closer, trying to mold herself against Seven’s body, needing as much physical contact as possible. “I’m just grateful it’s all over and we’re together again.”

Seven continued to work her way along Janeway’s jaw with feather light touches that finally reached her mouth. Janeway moaned softly as they kissed, feeling liquid desire pool in the pit of her stomach and at the juncture of her legs. It wasn’t just wanting Seven, she knew, but also a reaction to the day and needing to reaffirm her existence with the one she loved. She was always extremely aroused after such a mission and knew Seven would attend to those needs enthusiastically.

So Janeway was unsurprised, but still deeply thrilled, when Seven swept her up into her arms and carried her toward the bedroom. Arms wrapped tight about Seven’s neck, tracing a line along her jaw and throat with her lips, she didn’t want to let her go as she was lowered to the bed. Instead, she pulled Seven down on top of her, needing to feel her weight upon her, to feel covered and protected by her. Quickly, between passionate kisses and caresses, they removed each other’s uniforms, the tunics and sweaters and trousers tossed negligently on the deck, until they were both gloriously naked and clinging together.

Janeway wrapped her legs around Seven’s hips, feeling the rasp of golden triangle along her tender flesh, sending chills of pleasure through her. She wanted to be ravished, taken, and she reached above her head, touching a control that opened up the headboard compartment containing their ‘toys’.

“Darling, would you?” she breathed in Seven’s ear as she located the Wonder Wand 9000® by feel alone and drew it from concealment. A Ferengi-designed sexual aid, it was a remote controlled device that could accurately mimic the male genitalia of over one hundred alien species, as well as being fully adaptable in size, shape and color, though the couple generally maintained the Earth standard settings. It had been awhile since they had used it while making love…mostly because the last time they had been so rudely interrupted, creating certain logistical problems for Seven…but for tonight, it was exactly what Janeway wanted and needed.

Breathing heavily, Seven drew away, kneeling upright so that she could attach the penile probe to her groin, the opening at its base fitting tightly over her clitoris and transmitting sensation directly to her tiny bundle of nerves from the finely aligned sensors along its length. While she did that, Janeway retrieved the remote control and strapped it to her wrist, inputting the settings for sensitivity and fine-tuning the settings for actual length and thickness. From a small jar, she scooped out a generous amount of lubricant and sat up. Reaching out to Seven, she proceeded to massage the lubricant all over the shaft of the wonder wand, leaving it gleaming in the low illumination. Janeway smiled as she fondled it, and by extension, her lover, watching as Seven quivered at the sensation.

“Feel good?”

Seven, who was resting her hands lightly on Janeway’s shoulders for support, swallowed hard and nodded. “You always program the sensitivity too high.”

Janeway nipped at her chin playfully. “You always complain but I notice that you never try to reset it.”

“How can I when you maintain control over the remote?” Seven ran her hand down Janeway’s back and squeezed her buttock. “Did we not concur that I would wear it from now on?”

“I don’t remember agreeing to that.”

Seven, undoubtedly aware that she could not win such an argument, responded with a passionate kiss as she pressed Janeway backward onto the bed, covering her with her body. Knee urging Janeway’s legs apart, Seven positioned herself between her thighs. Dipping her head, she closed her lips over Janeway’s right nipple, tongue dancing lightly over the tender skin. Pleasure shot through Janeway like an electric current and her head went back, a cry parting her lips.

“Oh, Annika.”

Janeway could feel the edge of Seven’s teeth as she smiled before proceeding to intensify her touch, sucking lightly on the throbbing protrusion. Tangling her fingers in the long blonde hair, Janeway pulled her head tighter to her chest as Seven moved over to the other breast, granting it the same loving attention. The ache between Janeway’s legs was almost painful at this point and she moaned loudly.

“Darling, please.”

Seven lifted slightly and reached down between them to guide the head of the penile probe into Janeway, rubbing up and down the valley of her wetness with lazy intent before finally poising at her opening. Janeway lifted her hips and there was a delicious moment of entry, slow and sensual, and then Seven was inside, thrusting deeply, her gaze intent on Janeway’s face. Wrapping her legs around her hips, Janeway held Seven in place, tightening her muscles around the intrusion and milking the extended length of Seven’s clit, watching closely to see how it affected her.

“Kathryn!” Seven’s eyes went wide, bright and brilliant in the night.

Janeway smiled and continued to vigorously work the internal muscles of her channel, feeling her own excitement build at the exquisite sensation. Seven’s head fell forward helplessly onto Janeway’s chest and she pushed herself even deeper, her pubic hair grinding against Janeway’s with delicate roughness.

“Kathryn,” she whispered after several delicious moments had passed, voice ragged with need, “please, I must…I need to be in motion.”

Janeway released her grip on Seven’s hips. “Oh, God, love, yes.”

Seven began to move within her, slow, deliciously thorough thrusts that massaged every inch of Janeway’s inner self, particularly that special spot deep inside. She rose to meet her, hips rising in counterpoint to Seven’s, the point of impact imparting its own special pleasure. It wasn’t long before they were both unable to speak coherently, restricted to groans and whimpers and little grunts of pleasure. Janeway felt herself cast adrift as she was lifted ever higher and she clawed at Seven desperately. Orgasm wasn’t so much a summit as it was a sustained plateau that her lover kept her at for some time. When Seven finally gained her own gratification, Janeway could only cling to her weakly as both women tried to maintain the ecstasy for as long as possible.

“Oh, Kathryn.” A final shudder left Seven boneless on Janeway, barely able to keep the better part of her weight off her with her elbows.

“Darling.” Weakly, Janeway stroked her hair, wondering if this would be the moment her pounding heart would finally batter its way out of her chest.

Lying together, regaining their strength, it took several minutes before Seven was able to gently withdraw. Removing the wand, she placed it in the cleansing compartment on the other side of the headboard. Feebly, Janeway took off the remote and tossed it over her head in the general direction of the ‘toy box’, not even looking to make sure it reached its destination. When Seven’s body settled beside her own, Janeway wrapped herself around the lanky frame and held on as if she were drowning, wanting nothing more than to remain in that moment forever.

Seven nuzzled her ear. “Did you enjoy it, Kathryn?”

Janeway laughed quietly. “What, my thrashing about like a fish out of water didn’t give you a clue?”

“Perhaps a small indication,” Seven allowed, humor lacing her tone. She paused. “I particularly enjoyed that exercise in the beginning when you would not allow me to move.”

“I thought you might. That’s why I did it.”

“Will you do so again in the future?”

“Whenever you like, sweetheart.”

They relaxed a little bit more, shifting to a position more conducive to sleep, with Seven rolling over onto her back and Janeway snuggled up against her side, head on her shoulder. Seven cuddled her, reaching with her left, mesh-covered manipulative implant to carefully entwine her fingers with Janeway’s, their linked hands resting on her stomach. “May I ask you a question, Kathryn?”

Janeway felt a small flicker of trepidation. Requesting permission usually meant the question would be a difficult one. “Of course, darling.”

“Were you able to work with Tazna Jade efficiently while rescuing the hostages?”

Janeway let out a bark of laughter before she could stop it. “I don’t know that I would call it efficient. It was certainly interesting. I’m beginning to think I don’t play well with others, at least, not others who think they rank me.”

“I assumed you were aware of that considering your interaction with Dr. Pulaski over the past few years.”

“Good point.”  She tightened her grip on Seven’s hand and guided it down to the apex of her thighs.

“Kathryn?” Seven sounded surprised but pleased. “I believed you ready for sleep.”

“I thought I was, too, but now I just want you to touch me for awhile. Is that all right?”

“Perfectly acceptable,” Seven whispered, easing her hand between Janeway’s legs, the metal caps on her fingertips cool against the hot skin. Janeway shivered pleasurably,

“Lightly, darling.”

“Of course, my Kathryn. Like this?” With barely perceptible pressure, Seven rubbed her middle finger along the length of Janeway’s clit, still sensitive after their earlier bout of lovemaking.

“Perfect,” Janeway breathed, delighting in the wonderful sensations.

“Do you wish me to intensify this?”

“Uh…” Janeway had to think a moment before she understood what Seven meant, finding it hard to concentrate with such lovely sensations rippling through her. “You mean that vibrating thing…no, love, that would be too much.”

“Very well.”

Seven kissed her, mouth lingering on Janeway’s lips, the tip of her tongue emerging to trace a delicate line. Janeway made a blissful sound and spread her legs further apart, her hips beginning to undulate as Seven continued to caress her with tender regard. Her fingertip was incredibly adept as it moved back and forth over the bundle of nerves, slowly increasing the frequency and pressure until every delicate stroke blasted through Janeway like a powerful current. Before long, she was shaking with yet another orgasm, the pleasure simply too much to resist.

“God, darling.”

“Adequate?”

“Beyond adequate. Magnificent.” Janeway reached down and touched Seven, the moisture bathing her hand. “And you?”

“I will let you know once you have finished."
Janeway laughed wickedly. "I bet you let me know a lot sooner than that."
<>

Epilogue

Kelly stepped into the ready room, glancing around until she spotted the captain on the upper level. Seated on the sofa, a mug of coffee in her hand as she studied a padd, Kelly marveled that she could have ever considered Kathryn Janeway a staid, by-the-book commanding officer. After the last week or so of plunging into the middle of a potential civil war, upsetting both sides and then forcing them to come to some kind of agreement over a negotiating table, Kelly wondered if she’d ever be one-fourth that daring…or one-eighth that much of a captain.

“Is the ship ready, Number One?”

“Yes, ma’am,” she said as she passed over her report and took a seat in the chair offset to the sofa. “We’ll be activating the transwarp at 0800.”

“And you’ll be taking your medication?”

Kelly felt her cheeks heat but she didn’t look away from Janeway’s amused gaze. “Assuming you take yours, Captain.”

Janeway’s smile widened. “Even if I had contemplated such a possibility, your experience has granted me full warning against ever making the attempt.” She set her mug down. “Though I do wish they’d come up with a way to avoid it.”

“I understand they’re working on a inoculation,” Kelly offered. “Maybe by the time Millennium is ready for her next mission, it’ll be available.”

“One can only hope.” Janeway settled back against the cushions, her bluish-gray eyes assessing Kelly with benevolent compassion. “You realize that Admiral Nechayev has plans for you that do not include staying with Millennium.”

Kelly exhaled slowly. “I know she has plans, but I’ll be damned if I know what they are. Though if my next assignment is as…educational…as this was, I’ll be all the better for it.”

“That’s probably the best way to approach it,” Janeway allowed with a nod. “You should know, Keira, were that not the case, I’d have absolutely no problem with you serving another year as my exec.”

Surprised and overwhelmed at the sentiment, Kelly could only gape stupidly at her. “Thank you, sir…I mean, Captain.”

Janeway laughed. “Well, at least you didn’t salute.”

“No, Captain.” Kelly agreed. She rose to her feet. “If that’s everything, ma’am, I think I’ll turn in. Tomorrow’s a big day.”

“That it is, albeit ten days later than we originally planned.”

“Good night, Captain."
“Good night, Number One."

The End

1This is the 19th in the Millennium series.
It was posted on August 22, 2008.

Chaotic Cruise

G. L. Dartt

In the Alpha Quadrant, Captain Kathryn Janeway leaned over the waste receptacle and heaved up the breakfast she had enjoyed that morning in the Beta Quadrant. After determining there was nothing left to expel, she staggered over to grab onto the sink counter, pressing her forehead against the smooth glass of the mirror.

“They have to find a way around this,” she muttered out loud. After a few moments, she revived enough to activate the water dispenser, and weakly scooped up some cool liquid, splashing it on her face. Feeling marginally better, she looked up at her reflection and recoiled. Dark shadows marred the skin beneath her eyes and her complexion was sallow, with a slight greenish tinge. It was better when she had her eyes closed, she decided and once more bent her head against the mirror.

A soft knock on the door made her whimper piteously. Only one person would dare enter her ready room without formal admittance at the best of times, let alone when she was feeling like this. “Kathryn? Are you all right?”

“No.”

Immediately, the door to the head hissed open and Seven’s liquid form slipped into the small room. Tall and imposing, her long blonde hair was pulled back in a severe bun, while her narrow, attractive features were highlighted by the silver glint of Borg implants. Long fingers, capped with metal and circuitry, were cool as they stroked the back of Janeway’s neck.

“Breathe slowly,” she instructed.

Despite her nausea, Janeway immediately felt better, just from the power of Seven’s touch. “Can I assume we arrived in one piece?”

“Yes. Starfleet has been contacted. We are on course to Earth at warp five. We will arrive at the Utopia Planetia shipyards in three days, barring any unforeseen circumstances.”

Janeway continued to lean on the sink as Seven expanded her light massage down her spine, loosening the knots she found there. “God, I don’t know why I always expect this to become better with experience,” she muttered fretfully. “Instead, it feels like it’s becoming worse every time we make a transwarp jump, even with the sedation.”

“There may be a cumulative effect,” Seven said. “The more transitions your body experiences, the worse it becomes.”

“Wonderful. At this rate, I’ll have to retire in a year.”

Seven chose not to respond to that. Instead, she gently urged Janeway out of the small ensuite that reeked of vomit and into the fresher air of her ready room. Once she had the captain settled on the sofa with a replicated glass of flat ginger ale, she disappeared back into the small powder room, undoubtedly to remove all traces of the captain’s illness. The ship’s maintenance staff was perfectly capable of taking care of it, of course, but there was always the captain’s image to maintain. Janeway shook her head ruefully and sipped her ginger ale.

When Seven returned, she brought along some mouth fresheners and another glass of electric blue liquid. Janeway set aside the ginger ale and accepted the fruit juice, knowing she had to replenish her fluids and electrolytes. As she drank, Seven sat down on the sofa beside her and watched silently with a concerned expression in her ice-blue eyes.

Janeway took her time with her juice, making sure she kept it down. When she finished, she took both mouth fresheners, allowing them to dissolve on her tongue as she eased back against the cushions, feeling the ache in her temples gradually ease. Even with her eyes closed, she remained aware of Seven’s scrutiny.

“What are you thinking?” she asked finally.

“How much I am required to hold you at this moment,” came the prompt and gratifying response.

Janeway dredged up a smile and leaned over, caught up by the strong, slender arms and drawn into a warm embrace. Head resting on the voluptuous expanse of Seven’s chest, Janeway surrendered completely to this moment of weakness, cosseted by her spouse and surrounded by her love, basking in the strength lent to her without hesitation. Snuggling close, she listened to Seven’s heartbeat, its steady rhythm providing a comfort that was beyond description. As Seven’s lips brushed lightly over her temple, the sheer tenderness of it made it easy to ignore any remaining effects of the jump.

“Are you feeling better, Kathryn?” Seven asked after several quiet moments had passed.

“Much, my love. Thank you. I needed this.”

“I am gratified to provide it.”

Janeway exhaled slowly. “I think I want to go lie on the beach for about a week. Once the Starfleet briefings are over, why don’t we take a trip to Risa?”

“I have never been to Risa. I understand it is a very popular leave destination for Starfleet officers.”

“It is, but I think we can find some quiet corner for ourselves. Or we can always look for a tropical island on Earth to spend some time together. All I know is that I miss being with you.”

"I want to be with you, as well."

Janeway gave her a final squeeze, hugging her tightly, and then drew away. ”But for now, I need to return to my duties.”

“Of course, Captain.”

They stood up, but as Seven was about to leave, Janeway seized her hand and pulled her to her. “Before you go...” She kissed her, confident that the mouth fresheners were working, but glad she had taken two. Once they finished, she looked up entreatingly into Seven’s face. “I love you so much, Annika. Don’t ever doubt that.”

“I do not, Kathryn.” Seven kissed her again, one incredibly soft and caring kiss, lingering over her lips. “I love you with all I am.”

“Have a good day, darling. I’ll see you...” Janeway faltered. “Well, you know I’ll see you when I see you. It’s always insane after a mission.”

“Yes, Kathryn. Know that I shall be thinking of you until then.”

Feeling considerably better than she had a half hour earlier, Janeway followed Seven down the ramp, her palm resting on the small of her back. On the lower level, Seven headed for the door while Janeway moved over to her desk where she brought up the ship reports. Everything appeared to be functioning at acceptable levels, including the hasty repairs applied to damage done during the Elthanian uprising in the Confederacy, though the ship could still expect a lengthy stay at the Utopia Planetia dockyards. Janeway certainly hoped that particular political mess would be settled before she ever needed to return to that area of space.

A soft chirp interrupted her thoughts, indicating incoming messages and she realized that ship’s communication system was already updating the databanks from Starfleet Command after a year away from the Federation. Settling into her chair, she started pouring over everything that had happened while she was away, skimming through the mass of information in search of relevant items like how her previous vessel was doing and particularly on the current status of the Orion Syndicate.

Time passed quickly and before she knew it, it was almost into the gamma shift. She groaned and leaned back in her chair, rubbing her eyes tiredly. She could expect another two days of this, with at least another day of briefings with Starfleet Headquarters before she could lay down her command for a while. She was a little dismayed to discover how much she was looking forward to it, which could be indicative of the much larger problem that remained, simmering just below the surface. It was definitely something that would require further contemplation, particularly once she was back on Earth.

Shaking out her shoulders, she logged off and rose from her seat. Scooping up the silver thermos and tucking it beneath her arm, she left her ready room. Out on the bridge, the shift crew was just changing over and she found herself in a crowd waiting for the turbolift. She could have used her own private access direct to her quarters from the ready room, of course, but she wanted the opportunity to see people that she didn’t always get to work with on a steady basis and to gage the mood of the ship. From the quantity of chatter and laughter, it felt very upbeat, the crew obviously excited about returning home and the substantial leave awaiting them.

On deck three, Janeway headed for her quarters at the end of the corridor, her step faltering briefly as she passed the first officer’s quarters. She’d have to break in another one, she thought with a touch of resentment as she continued on. And just when Keira appeared to be shaping up into a perfectly acceptable executive officer.

Inside the captain’s quarters, the illumination was low, the warp distorted view of familiar Alpha Quadrant stars through the viewport granting a sort of luminescent quality. She paused by the kitchenette counter, smiling gently when she saw a stasis-held bowl of soup awaiting her, the thin, chicken-flavored broth, egg noodles and tiny-diced vegetables clearly intended to be gentle on her abused digestive system. Deactivating the field released a delicious aroma into the air, sparking a hunger she hadn’t felt until then. Rather than pass it by, as she initially intended, she slipped onto the stool and picked up the chunk of warm, buttered bread that lay beside the bowl. Midway through her meal, she started abruptly as strong arms encircled her waist from behind and warm curves pressed against her back. Soup sloshed from her spoon onto the counter.

She used her napkin to wipe up the drops. “I didn’t even hear you come in.”

“I did not intend to startle you, Kathryn,” Seven said quietly as she nuzzled Janeway’s neck.

“No harm done.” Janeway leaned back into the embrace as she scooped up some more noodles. “Were you asleep?”

“I was in bed, but not asleep. I heard you enter our quarters but when you did not join me, I realized you must be eating.”

“Isn’t that why you left a meal out for me?”

“It was merely a precaution. I had rather hoped that you would eat earlier and not require any dinner at this late hour.”

Janeway smiled. “You know me better than that.”

“I do, hence the soup.”

“Touché.”

Seven didn’t respond to that, other than squeezing her lightly in admonishment. Janeway chuckled and ate the last bite of bread, accompanied by the final spoonful of soup. Dabbing her lips with the napkin, she pushed the now emptied dishes away and turned to face Seven. Her heart rate accelerated as she took in the vision of her spouse, the long blonde hair flowing freely over her shoulders and around her beloved features, her lush body covered by only the flimsiest of silken silver robe. Even after all this time, she thought wistfully, Seven still took her breath away. Reaching out for her, she felt desire make her stomach contract in anticipation, and warmth flood the juncture between her legs.

“Mmm, this is definitely worth coming home for,” she murmured once Seven had finished kissing her, a long, slow, thoroughly loving kiss. Her hands loosened the tie at Seven’s stomach, allowing the robe to fall open and grant her access to the warm skin beneath.

“Ah yes, food and now sex. Your day is complete,” Seven said with dry humor.
“Isn’t yours?”
Seven kissed her again, deeper, tongue touching Janeway’s with a sweet passion. ”Most assuredly, Kathryn, now that I am in your arms."Janeway made a happy sound and hugged her closer, loving how Seven felt against her, even through the layers of uniform. Though she ached to remove those obstructing layers as quickly as possible, a part of her also savored the moment of being here with Seven, holding her as they kissed until she was breathless.
And until she could decide exactly the best way to proceed for the maximum possible outcome, maintaining the status quo was just fine with her.

Seven quivered as Janeway’s fingertips played a teasing tempo down her spine and trailed lovingly over her buttocks beneath her robe. She wanted to seize Janeway and carry her off to the bedroom, yet even as passion swept through her, a stronger urge demanded that she cherish this moment with her spouse. It was wonderfully intoxicating to stand here at the kitchenette counter and be caressed so wantonly by the captain, who had not even unfastened her uniform tunic. The black material was rough against the tender skin of Seven’s nipples, and they hardened pleasantly as they pressed against Janeway’s chest. Her mouth was so warm, tasting of chicken soup and a flavor so uniquely Kathryn that Seven thought she would never get enough of it, kissing her hungrily for long minutes.

Her breath caught as she felt Janeway’s hand slide gently between her thighs, touching her with tender regard. “Oh, my, you have been waiting, haven’t you?” Janeway’s fingers moved lavishly in the wetness, rubbing over Seven’s ridge in a way that sent lovely chills up and down her spine. “Mmm, you feel so ready for me, darling.”

“I told you I could not sleep,” Seven whispered, hips undulating slightly against the swirling fingertips, wanting more and appreciating the knowledge she would get it. “I attempted to finalize certain details of my paper, but all I could think of was making love to you in our home on Earth.”

She was referring to the house they shared in San Francisco that was vacant now that Icheb had transferred to Vulcan for his final year in the Academy and Chakotay had taken command of the newly commissioned Ahwwahnee. Though she adored Indiana, Seven also loved the little bungalow on R. Garrett Avenue overlooking the harbor and Starfleet Command. It was a haven for the couple while on Earth, and she was glad to have it waiting for her once more, filled with the souvenirs and the accumulations of their life together.

Janeway nibbled lightly on her earlobe. “With any luck, Phoebe will have all our furniture moved back in by the time we arrive on Earth, especially that big bed of ours. Until then, I suppose we’ll just have to make do with the one here.”

Seven, who suddenly found it very difficult to concentrate on anything Janeway was saying while doing such delightful things to her, cupped the beloved features in her palms and kissed her hard, forcing Kathryn to be quiet except for the happy hum at the back of her throat. The sensation radiating from between Seven’s legs spread rapidly throughout her entire body and she shivered again, a dangerous weakness buckling her knees. Releasing her grip on Janeway, she reached out for the edge of the counter, holding on tightly as the caresses grew firmer and more intense. Gasping, she felt the penetration of a questing index finger that thrust the entire length into her, and then quivered as Janeway’s thumb rubbing decisively over her ridge, Janeway muttered something indecipherable and pressed deeper, her fingertip brushing ever so lightly over the sensitive spot inside. The effect was immediate and totally irresistible.

Somehow, the captain was able to support the full weight of Seven’s body as she shuddered helplessly against her, lost in her climax. Her entire concentration was centered on her surrender to the all too brief time of perfect pleasure. Afterward, her forehead fell forward onto Janeway’s shoulder, her breath labored as she descended from that exquisite plateau. Distantly, she felt Janeway carefully withdraw, though she continued to cup her juncture warmly in her palm, almost as if she was holding up Seven’s entire being with it.

“Thank you, Kathryn,” Seven managed, once she had recovered somewhat.

“Oh, you’re most welcome, my love.”

Lifting her head, Seven looked down into the warm eyes, far more blue than gray at the moment, amazed as always as how easily this small Human woman could overwhelm her. There was complete love in her gaze, and more than a hint of desire. Obviously, her attention to Seven has exacerbated her own need for satisfaction. Bending down, Seven’s mouth brushed lightly over Janeway’s, flicking out the tip of her tongue to trace a tender line over her bottom lip, resisting any attempt by Kathryn to deepen the kiss.

Janeway groaned. “God, darling, don’t tease me.”

Seven smiled and kissed her again, still playing. “I shall tease you all night long,” she promised her quietly. “And you will enjoy it.”

“Oh, I know I’ll enjoy it.” Janeway’s voice was laced with ironic humor. “The question is, will I survive it?”

“You always have before.”

Seven drew her from the chair, holding Janeway in a strong embrace as she kissed her again, more passionate now, conscious of that fine line between play and torment. Between loving caresses, she guided her into the bedroom, undressing her efficiently at the same time, discarding the tunic and sweater and pants along the way. By the time Janeway was sprawled over the midnight blue sheets, she was naked and needful, reaching out for Seven with demanding insistence.

“If you don’t hurry this up, I’ll have to report for duty before you’re able to finish.”

Seven dismissed the complaint; aware it wasn’t serious though she acknowledged that it wasn’t the wisest course of action to keep the ship’s captain awake for the duration of the entire night. After removing her robe, she stretched out beside Janeway, pulling her into her arms and delighting in the sensation of warm skin against her own. No longer playing, her hands moved in practiced patterns over the curves and planes of the familiar form, knowing just where and when to touch to achieve the maximum result. Before long, Janeway was groaning and gasping, responding to the skilled touch with the same helpless pleasure Seven had experienced earlier. When she climaxed, it was with such a throaty and enthusiastic outcry that Seven was concerned the other tenant on deck three heard it, regardless of the ship’s unquestionable soundproofing in construction.

“Hmm, you’re right, darling,” Janeway muttered sleepily in the warm afterglow, snuggled tight against Seven’s body. “This was the perfect end to the day. Let’s do it again tomorrow.”

“As long as you do not begin your day in the same manner,” Seven said dryly.

“God, no, that wouldn’t be good.” There was a pause and Janeway rubbed her cheek against Seven’s breastbone. “Do you really think the effects of transwarp jumping are cumulative?”

Seven could hear the concern in Janeway’s tone and she hugged her comfortingly, though she could offer little in the way of scientific reassurance. “There has not been enough study regarding the matter, Kathryn. I merely ventured a theory without any substantial proof one way or another. I will confer with Leah Brahms while on Earth. It may be something that no one has pursued before now.” She nuzzled her temple. “Would it bother you so much to return to the Alpha Quadrant full time, Kathryn?”

“I guess not, but I’d hate to have to give up Millennium on the basis of that rather than because it was time for me to walk away on my own terms.”

“I understand.” Seven was fully convinced that she did. For Janeway to do anything on less than her own terms would be completely unacceptable.

Drawing the fingers of her left hand lightly up Janeway’s arm, the metal Borg caps over the tips easily detected the level of temperature and texture of skin, calculating each pore and hair follicle, measuring the density of flesh and bone beneath. Yet for all its sensitivity, it was not the same as when Seven touched Janeway with her other, fully flesh-and-blood hand. She wasn’t sure if she should appreciate that she could experience both, or sorrow because her left hand simply could not touch Janeway’s skin rather than assimilate its existence.

“Are you looking forward to see Mom and Phoebe?”

There was a faint wistfulness underlying the tone and Seven kissed the top of Janeway’s head, inhaling the warm fragrance of auburn hair. “Very much so,” she said quietly. There was a time when she would have attempted to explain how very much…indeed, how extremely necessary it was to see Gretchen and Phoebe again and bask in their presence. But there was a part of her that now knew such an explanation would hurt Janeway in some way, be it ever so subtle, so she did not try to elaborate. Instead, she added, “I also miss Jake. Shall we take him with us to San Francisco?”

“That’s a good idea. I think he gets lost in the shuffle with all the other dogs, particularly with Rufus. He doesn’t always get the attention he requires.” Janeway shifted a little, seeking a more comfortable position in preparation of sleep. “I’m thinking about bringing him with us on our next mission. What do you think?”

Seven considered it. “This is a much larger vessel and there are more people available to help care for him should we find ourselves limited in time. Certainly having a pet will make you a more approachable captain.”

Janeway nudged her. “I don’t want a professional assessment, darling. What do you feel about it? Would you like to have him along?”

“I believe I would,” Seven admitted. “I know that I do occasionally wish he were here in our quarters after completing a double shift. His presence was oddly comforting. And I believe you would benefit from the walks after dinner that you once enjoyed on Voyager.”

“Then it’s settled, he’ll be shipping out with us next mission.”

“Very well, Kathryn.”

“Annika?”

“Yes?”

“You know I adore you.”

“Of course.” Seven put her fingertip beneath Janeway’s chin, lifting her face up to her so that she could kiss her as lovingly as possible. “I love you as well. Good night, Kathryn.”

“Good night, my darling.”

Morning arrived far too quickly for both women, and they were reluctant to leave the warm nest of bedcovers and each other. The computer had to insist three more times that duty awaited and breakfast was consumed on the fly. Seven barely had enough time to prepare the captain’s thermos before Janeway was striding briskly for the door. Once she had left, Seven took a few more moments to tidy up their quarters, picking up the discarded clothing from the night before, as well as the dishes scattered over the counter.

Arriving at her lab ten minutes later, she found her staff indulging in a pastime B’Elanna had once designated as ‘goofing off’. Though their duties were light now that they had returned to the Alpha Quadrant and most of their projects had been wrapped up, Seven was aware such non-productive activity could prove damaging to their morale and efficiency in the long term. There were still two days remaining before they made port and that was too long to allow such sloth to continue. Immediately, she set her team to work researching the effects of long-term transwarp jumps on individuals originating on Earth, ignoring the grumbling that followed her wake. She believed there was little hope of making any significant discoveries in any of the last few duty shifts, but at least she would be laying down a foundation that would assist her in the future.

While they were occupied, she went into her office and initiated a subspace to message to Dr. Leah Brahms at the Theoretical Propulsion Group. They had a facility on Mars where Seven had worked for a year and a half, so she was familiar with Leah’s team and their procedures. There were very few people in the universe that she would trust with a problem that could have a long-term effect on her spouse. Leah was one of them.

The ‘rocket scientist’, as B’Elanna liked to call her, was obviously glad to see Seven, her hazel eyes lightening perceptibly, even over a subspace transmission. “So, Dr. Hansen, have you had your fill of gallivanting around the galaxy yet? Can I expect you back for some real work?”

Seven smiled faintly, recognizing the humor.  “Not as yet, Leah, though the problem I wish to pose to you may impact on that.” Quickly she explained that there might be some cumulative effects from the transwarp drive along with some the theories she had formulated. Leah was looking thoughtful by the time Seven had finished.

“It’s possible, but so far none of the current research suggests such long term effects are common. Of course, only Millennium has undergone so many jumps. If there was any sort of developing condition, then certainly it would show up first with your crew.”

“That is my concern, Leah. I do not wish my captain or my fellow crewmembers to perform as experimental subjects in this matter.”

“I don’t think Starfleet has that in mind, Annika.”

“Nonetheless, I believe more extensive research is required.”

Leah frowned but eventually nodded. “I’ll set up a team on it. If there is some kind of cumulative effect, we’ll find it.”

Leah was nothing if not confidant, nor was it misplaced confidence. Her TPG had the best minds from around the Federation and there was little that stymied them for long. Seven suspected that they were superior to even the ‘Think Tank’ she had encountered in the Delta Quadrant, and certainly more benevolent than the group Voyager faced.

Feeling a great deal better about things, Seven signed off and turned her attention to the preliminary data awaiting her. It would be two days before they reached Earth and she intended to have as much completed as possible before then.

Ro balanced easily on the balls of her feet and warily watched Kelly glide toward her. Both women were covered with sweat, breathing heavily in the confines of the workout room on deck fifteen. The ship’s first officer moved much better than she had initially after coming on board Millennium a year earlier, calmer and more controlled in her approach. It was good to know that Ro’s teaching had not gone to waste.

Ro wondered if Janeway’s teaching had fallen on equally fertile soil. She expected it had.

Swallowing back her smile, Ro abruptly moved forward. It was unexpected, and with a slight panic in her eyes, Kelly quickly backpedaled. Ro didn’t let up, keeping her on the defensive with a carefully calculated series of moves that finally left Kelly on her back on the mat, completely helpless.

“So much for everything you taught me,” Kelly said with a touch of sullenness as Ro helped her to her feet.

“Are you kidding? It took three more moves to get you down than it did last week. And three more then than the week before.” Ro mopped her brow with a handy towel.  “It doesn’t come all at once, Kiera. It’s always one step at a time.”

“I suppose.” Cheered, Kelly sipped from her water bottle. “It’s just hard sometimes, especially when those steps are tedious.” She took another drink, suddenly looking glum again. “Like my next year will be.”

“Admittedly, administrative tours aren’t a thrill a minute but they are necessary,” Ro reminded gently. “Assuming you still plan to be a starship captain.”

“Dotting the ‘i’s’ and crossing the ‘t’s’.”

Ro lifted her chin. “It’s more than that. The next year is when you’ll learn how Starfleet really works, provided you keep your eyes and ears open. Knowing when an opportunity is there, and how to exploit it, is a key element in command.”

Kelly stared at her a moment, her green eyes suddenly assessing, so intent that Ro could almost see the deep processing going on behind them.

“Politics,” she said finally. Distastefully.

Ro laughed. “Oh, yeah. Knowing who’s using you and when. Once you get that down, then it makes carrying out the duties of command a whole lot…not easier exactly, but more practical.”

“Does anyone use Janeway?” Kelly said, skepticism strong in her tone.

“Oh, they’ve tried.” Ro thought back briefly to the operation involving Section 31 and the Orion Syndicate. It had almost cost the friendship she had been building with her captain and the memory made her wince. “Sometimes they even succeed for awhile, but the captain has a way of making it come out in her favor in the end.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Kelly dipped her head, suddenly looking awkward. “Uh, Laren, I just wanted you to know that I really appreciate all you’ve done for me this past year.  Your friendship has meant a lot.”

Ro smiled faintly in acknowledgement at how difficult that was. Kelly wasn’t the most adept at conveying personal feelings. “It’s meant a lot to me, too,” she said quietly and thumped Kelly gently on the shoulder. “Good fortune to you in the future.”

“And to you.”

That was sufficient as farewell between them. With Millennium quickly approaching Earth, there would be little time in the next day or so for quiet moments. It was highly unlikely either of them would be able to make time for a more formal parting.

Kelly flashed a gamine grin and picked up her towel. Slinging it over her shoulder, she headed for the door as Ro watched her leave, idly unwrapping the protective covering over her wrists and hands. After gathering up the rest of her gear, she tossed it all into a small bag emblazoned with the Starfleet logo and made her own exit. Striding rapidly through the corridors toward the turbolift, she nodded briefly at those she knew. There was an air of expectation on the ship, a buzz of excitement and even a little relief at finally being back in the Federation again. The crew had been specifically picked for those who wanted to ‘boldly go where no one had gone before’ because of Millennium’s unique transition drive, but it was still nice to be home, no matter how adventurous one was.

Of course, for people like Ro, and her spouse, B’Elanna Torres, home was a more generalized concept, but for the next six months, they were going to have to give it some serious consideration. Another life was about to join their family, and where they chose to raise their daughter over the next few years was of the utmost priority. Both loved living on the ship, but they also had claim to a very nice groundside home on Mars that would be perfect for kids, even if working at Utopia Planetia or at Starfleet Command lacked the energy and excitement of starship duty.

Inside her quarters, Ro tossed her bag on the ensuite sink counter and stripped off her outfit, stepping beneath the stinging spray of the shower with a small groan of appreciation. Afterward, clean and flushed from her shower, she pulled on a robe and returned to the main living area where she retrieved a salad and some bread from the replicator. A quick check with the computer let her know B’Elanna was also on her way home after a long day in engineering so she set another place at the table.

“Hey, baby.” Shorter than Ro, with a more powerful build, B’Elanna breezed into their quarters like the unleashing of a hurricane. She glanced once at the table and made a beeline for the replicator where she started programming in a variety of dishes. Ro returned the greeting with a quick kiss on the cheek but didn’t say anything more as she began ferrying plates of food, some of which twitched anxiously on the dishes, to the table. As her pregnancy progressed, B’Elanna’s appetite had increased accordingly. Ro had ceased commenting on it by now, content simply to watch in respectful amazement as her spouse consumed the equivalent of both their body weights in a single sitting. The astonishing part was that B’Elanna was hardly any larger despite the prodigious input of food. Her stomach had rounded nicely, but that was mostly baby rather than extraneous fat. If Dr. Pulaski hadn’t reassured Ro that a gigantic appetite was perfectly normal for a gestating Klingon, she might have become concerned that B’Elanna wasn’t giving birth to a child as much as some kind of all consuming black hole.

At this point, Ro’s role in this pregnancy was to make sure B’Elanna got anything and everything she needed, even if she had to bypass protocols to make it happen.

“So how was your day?” B’Elanna began to tuck into her feast.

Ro smiled. She knew how this worked. By the time she finished recounting the events of her day, B’Elanna would be finished the first course and be ready with another leading question before starting in on the second. Ro snatched bites of salad between the flow of very one-sided conversation. “And I hear that the TPG is doing a study on the transition jump sickness in Terrans. Seven’s concerned that it may becoming a chronic effect.”

B’Elanna scrapped up the last of her current dish, set it aside and started in on the next, glancing up at Ro. Curiosity made her eyes even darker. “You mean there’s a certain point beyond their ability to tolerate it? That means…” She trailed off uncertainly.

Ro nodded soberly. “That means that crewmembers like Tom Paris won’t be able to ship out in future missions.”

“Or Janeway.”

“Or the captain,” Ro agreed. “That’s probably why Seven’s so concerned about it.”

“God, she’ll hate that. Janeway’s the sort that will want to walk away on her own terms, not because she’s told she has to.”

“I know.”

B’Elanna shook her head fretfully. “I still can’t figure it out. What makes Humans born and raised on Earth so different from the rest of them?”

Ro shrugged. “Maybe the water? Who knows? There’s always a slight genetic variation from planet to planet…even from planet to moon. Bajorans born and raised on Jerrado, our fifth moon, have a genetic predisposition to certain diseases that the planet-born are generally resistant to. It’s the same with the humans who spread out all over the Alpha Quadrant. Each planet and colony produces its own similar, but unique version. It’s probably one tiny little genetic marker on one insignificant gene that it’ll take decades to find.”

“It won’t take decades if Seven’s put her mind to fixing the problem,” B’Elanna noted sagely.

“You’re probably right,” Ro allowed. She slid another plate toward her spouse. “Some more Kohlanese stew?”

Later, in bed, the couple lay together in affectionate harmony, Ro on her back with B’Elanna leaning against her. Her hands resting lightly on the rounded belly of her spouse, Ro’s fingertips traced the tiny flutters of life beneath the smooth, warm skin.

“Lively tonight,” she murmured quietly.

“Yep.” B’Elanna moved restlessly. “You get to carry the next one.”

Ro lifted her brows but wisely didn’t comment on either the suggestion that they would have more offspring in the future or that she would be the one to undergo the pregnancy. Instead, she hugged B’Elanna close, nuzzling her cheek lightly.

“Anything I can do for you tonight?”

B’Elanna snuggled closer. “Nope, just be here.”

“I’m not going anywhere. Ever.”

B’Elanna made a happy sound, smiling in the night. “Promise?”

“On my life, on my honor, and on my heart.”

“Good enough.”

Ro smiled and kissed her earlobe, pausing to nibble lightly on it. B’Elanna purred but otherwise did not stir, indicating that while the spirit was willing, the flesh was a little weak this evening. A little disappointed but understanding completely, Ro kissed her cheek and pull her close in preparation for sleep, rubbing the lower part of B’Elanna’s belly in an attempt to sooth both mother and offspring. It must have worked because not only did the flutters smooth out, B’Elanna settled heavily against her, eventually drifting off.

Ro lay for a time, just holding her and marveling at how incredibly blessed her life had turned out before finally following her into sleep.

A light mist dusted the slate-blue shoulders of Janeway’s uniform tunic as she strode toward Starfleet Headquarters for an afternoon round of briefings, her boots clicking mutely on the pavement. She could have transported directly into the building from the restaurant where she had broke for lunch, of course, but a part of her was reveling in the sensation of weather and the salt-spray scent coming in from the harbor. As she entered the expansive lobby, she wiped the moisture from her face with a small smile, and headed for the turbolifts at one end, set beside the huge motif of the United Federation of Planets logo dominating one wall.
As the lift carried her upward, she wondered briefly how Seven was doing. She had transported directly to Indiana as soon as the ship had settled into orbit, so eager to see Gretchen and Phoebe again that she couldn’t wait for Janeway to join her. Janeway just hoped that seeing them in the flesh would remove the last of Seven’s anxiety about their kidnapping during Millennium’s last mission. Assuming anything could.

The lift came to a halt, and squaring her shoulders, she crossed the small reception area and pressed the admittance chime to the admiral’s office. In the old days, there would be a Starfleet cadet acting as a receptionist for Nechayev, ready to announce her. Now, there were too many holes in the ‘fleet to be filled to waste a body behind a desk.

“Come.”

Nechayev was a diminutive woman, but that didn’t prevent her from dominating any room she was in. She radiated presence like a warp core radiated power and even Janeway, possessor of more than her share of authority, paled in her presence. Nechayev never let up, never relaxed, and never gave in. There was a time that Janeway wanted nothing more than to be exactly like her, but that was before a certain Borg drone entered her life and taught her what was truly important.

“Admiral.”

“Captain.”

Blonde, with narrow, pinched features and keen blue eyes, Nechayev eyed Janeway as she took a seat by the large desk. Janeway resisted the urge to smile, feeling that gaze penetrate to her very bones.

“Another successfully completed mission.”

Janeway inclined her head. “The ship performed well. My crew is top notch.”

“And your first officer?”

Janeway carefully kept her expression impassive. “Kelly was adequate. But it took some doing.”

“That’s why I assigned her to you.” Nechayev smiled faintly. “Honestly, Kathryn, I knew that if you couldn’t bring her around, no one could. After a year with you, Starfleet now knows exactly where she stands and what she’s capable of.”

“That doesn’t make it easy on me or my crew, Admiral.”

Nechayev shrugged.  “I know, but let’s face it, Kathryn, you already have a operational first officer in Ro Laren.  It’s not as if you can’t handle it.  In fact, Millennium may be the only ship in the fleet right now that can teach these officers how to be captains.”

“She’s not ready to be a starship captain.”

“I know, but more importantly, she knows that too. That’s why she’ll be able to handle an administrative position over the next year. That wouldn’t have happened before you spent time with her.”

Janeway didn’t know if she entirely agreed with that assessment but it was useless to argue the point. Nechayev was convinced Janeway’s greatest strength lay in training commanders to become captains and as long as the admiral thought so, she could expect to deal with green first officers. She sighed silently. “So have you anyone in mind to exec Millennium’s next mission?”

Nechayev tilted her head. “Are you that anxious to get back into space?”

“No, I actually want the full leave for me and my crew, this time. But I would like to know what I can expect for an first officer and where we’ll be going next.”

“When I decide on a suitable candidate, you’ll be the first I inform, Kathryn,” There was the slightest glint in Nychayev’s pale blue eyes that might have been amusement.

Janeway felt her jaw tighten. “You say I can take on your pet projects because I have a functional first officer in Ro Laren. Well, I won't be able to keep Ro much longer unless I give her a real reason to stay on Millennium.”

The glint of amusement disappeared and there seemed to be real concern shading Neychayev’s expression then. “What do you mean?”

“She and her spouse, my chief engineer, are pregnant. Both have every reason to want to remain planet-side and I think only a promotion to the position of Millennium’s exec will tempt Ro to continue on. Even then, I’m not sure it would be enough.”

Janeway watched as the admiral absorbed the information, carefully hiding her own amusement. In this continual chess game she and her superior played, it could be considered a telling blow, decidedly a check move if not actual checkmate.

“I see,” Nechayev said finally. “I’ll have to take this under consideration, Kathryn.”

“I’m sure you will,” Janeway said mildly. They exchanged a few more pleasantries without either woman committing to anything and Janeway departed the admiral’s office with a sense of satisfaction that perhaps wasn’t warranted, but felt good nonetheless.

After leaving Starfleet Headquarters, she walked briskly for the San Francisco transport center. She was expected in Indiana for supper and as usual, Janeway was running late. Worming her way through the crowds, she cursed her timing, having arrived during the peak afternoon period when people were making their way home after work. Finally she made her way to the Starfleet kiosk where she was transported to the Portage Creek station. It was much quieter here and it didn’t take her long to acquire the use of a hovercraft and program in the coordinates for the Brown County Agricultural Park where her mother and sister lived.

Leaning back in her seat, she allowed the autopilot to navigate as she enjoyed the lush fields filled with the burgeoning sprouts of new corn. The rich smell of earth and air was almost intoxicating after the somewhat sterile atmosphere of her starship and she inhaled deeply, filling her lungs. She was smiling as the farmhouse finally came into sight and she spotted her spouse on the veranda, comfortably situated on the porch swing, sipping a glass of frosted lemonade. She settled her vehicle down onto its struts and slipped over the side, greeted by a profusion of waving red tails and lolling tongues. Jake, Rufus, and their mother Molly all had to sniff the Starfleet captain over before granting her leave to head for the porch.

“Kathryn.” Seven tasted of lemons as Janeway kissed her warmly. It was so good she kissed her again.

“Darling. I’m sorry I’m late. Is dinner ready?”

“We deliberately delayed our preparation,” Seven informed her, arms wrapped around Janeway’s waist, holding her lightly. “Both Gretchen and I are cognizant of your schedule while on Earth.”

“Good.” Janeway smiled and kissed her a third time. “It gives me the chance to greet you properly.”

“A proper greeting is always appreciated,” Seven noted and kissed her back. There was no hurry for either of them to end their embrace. Their recent conflict and separation had left scars that were still tender and every opportunity to accentuate the healing was gladly accepted.

“God, after all this time, you’re still like a couple of teenagers.”

The voice was ironic and achingly familiar. Laughing, Janeway turned to her sister who had just slipped through the screen door and hugged her tightly. “Good to see you again, Phoebes.”

“Good to see you, too, Kat. Staying awhile, this time?”

“Well, for dinner at any rate.” Janeway leaned back on the railing and fondly regarded the slender form of her sister. Taller, with long, gloriously thick hair and a languid personality, Phoebe was almost her complete opposite. But for all their youthful squabbles, they had turned out to be close friends as adults. Which made the twinge of guilt Janeway felt all the sharper. “Listen, I want to talk to you about what happened---“

“Hey, it’s over and done with,” Phoebe said abruptly, face tightening. “We were in really good hands with Tuvok’s daughter…never in danger at all.”

The look in her eyes indicated that hadn’t really been the case, but for some reason, Janeway thought Phoebe’s dissembling was more for Seven’s benefit than her own. She made a mental note to take her sister aside later and find out the facts but for now, she was content to let it go. She brightened as the door swung open once more to herald the arrival of her mother.

“Kathryn.”

Enfolded into her arms, Janeway knew she was finally home. “Mom. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too, sweetheart. It’s good to have you back.”

Arm in arm, they entered the old farmhouse with Seven and Phoebe in tow. In the kitchen, the table had been set and the savory smells of her mother’s corn, potato and beef casserole reached out to her in encompassing comfort. It was Janeway’s favorite dish and though she was fully appreciative of Seven’s version, it wasn’t quite the same as Gretchen’s, perhaps because of the difference between replicated or alien ingredients on board Millennium, and that of the fresh ingredients off the nearby farms.

Conversation over their meal was light, almost deliberately so, Janeway thought as she ate. Seven seemed rather quiet as well. So when she found herself being maneuvered into the study by her mother after dinner while Phoebe occupied Seven, she didn’t hesitate, though she wasn’t sure she liked whatever was going on. Anything that threw Seven off stride couldn’t be good.

“Kathryn, I need to speak with you about what happened.”

“Of course, Mother.” Janeway settled into the chair behind the desk as she watched Gretchen narrowly, linking her fingers together as she rested her hands on the smooth surface before her. She wasn’t aware that she'd arrayed herself in a position of authority until Gretchen looked at her and smiled.

“You look just like your father.”

Disconcerted, Janeway dipped her head. “I do?”
“Yes, when he thought he was in trouble and wanted to forestall it by becoming all officious…as if that mattered to me.”

Janeway blinked. “Am I in trouble?”

“I don’t know, are you?” Gretchen suddenly looked very serious, taking a seat in the chair opposite her. Her eyes were narrowed as she regarded Janeway, studying her closely. “Something’s going on with Seven and while she hasn’t said anything, I know it has something to do with what happened with the incident with Tuvok’s daughter. She’s been almost uncomfortable with us since her arrival here this afternoon and neither Phoebe or I can figure out why.”

The incident with Tuvok’s daughter? Is that how Gretchen referred to it? Not that she and Phoebe had been kidnapped by a criminal organization, their very lives in peril while Janeway and Seven were a quadrant away, helpless to do anything? Dismissing it as if it had been of no consequence whatsoever? It was little wonder Seven didn’t know how to react.

“I suspect she doesn’t quite know what to say to you,” Janeway said honestly, knowing anything less would be instantly detected by her mother, though how Gretchen could tell every time, she could never determine. “It was a very tough time for us. I know it can’t compare with what you were going through---“

“Waiting for news, unable to do anything, is always more difficult, dear,” Gretchen interrupted quickly. “It was an unpleasant situation, but for the most part, it felt…unreal, as if it were happening to someone else. I suppose because neither Phoebe nor I are familiar with those situations. We perhaps didn’t have a clear grasp on what exactly could happen to us, unlike you, or Michael.” The reference to her husband made a fond smile cross Gretchen’s face, one that Janeway suspected was purely unconscious. “He was a wreck, especially afterward. He didn’t want to leave my side. I actually had to speak quite sternly to him before he was able to relax and let it go.”

She leaned forward and put her hand on Janeway’s, squeezing her fingers. “Must I speak sternly to you and Seven as well?”

Janeway shook her head. “It’s not just that, Mother. It wasn’t merely a matter of Seven and I being unable to do anything and feeling bad about it. It caused a…well, a rather profound disagreement between us. Seven wanted us to return to the Alpha Quadrant immediately. My orders were very specific about continuing our mission.”

Gretchen stared at her for a long moment. “Ah,” she said finally. “I see.” Janeway wondered if she did. “How bad a ‘disagreement’?”

Janeway looked away. “Bad.”

“Oh, darling.” Gretchen’s voice was infinitely compassionate, “I’m sorry.”

Janeway felt tears suddenly sting her eyes. “What we discovered about ourselves during that time has left both of us feeling uncertain about things, about what we believed about each other, and how we have to handle such disagreements in the future.”

“What do you mean?”

“She asked me to return home, Mother. Demanded that I, as captain, go against my orders and bring her back to the Alpha Quadrant by any means necessary.” Janeway lifted her head, meeting the warm gaze of her mother, aching for her to understand though a small fear remained that she wouldn’t. “I wanted to, Mother. Honestly, I did, but I couldn’t. It wasn’t just the orders, it was a matter of the ship’s safety which I absolutely couldn’t compromise.”

“I understand, Kathryn, you had your orders. I, above all people, know what that means.”

“I thought Seven did as well, but…well, perhaps she didn’t. Perhaps she couldn’t.”

“What happened, Kathryn?”

Janeway felt her heart catch in her throat, making it hard to swallow, to talk…to breathe. “She left me.” Just saying it tore a hole in her soul that she thought had healed. “She said that wasn’t what she intended when she stayed away so many nights, but that was what it felt like. I…it hurt me and I think, in the end, it broke me. I was actually going to turn the ship around, Mother. But it was always for her, never for you or Phoebe.”

Until that moment, until the words actually formed and left her mouth, Janeway hadn't realized that was what she had been hanging onto, what she had been struggling with. Something released inside her, loosened in her chest and she took a deep breath, the first, it seemed, in forever. She felt almost dizzy, sick even, and had to rest her head on her hands, covering her eyes with her fingers.

"Oh, dear," Gretchen said. "Now I understand. Seven actually put my and Phoebe's needs...really her own needs...above yours. The individual above and beyond the Collective. What a horrifying concept for her. And you...oh, Kathryn, you were prepared to put her above everything else, to tangibly put her needs above those of Starfleet and your command. Something that goes against everything your father taught you, everything Starfleet has taught you. Not much wonder you're both still feeling the effects. It's a wonder you both survived it."

The last was said with a touch of irony and Janeway raised her head quickly, feeling the sting. "Mother---"

"I'm sorry, but what a wonderful and terrible thing growth is. And how much it must have hurt you both in the process. I regret that, but not your chance to evolve. One must always keep moving forward, Kathryn."

"Is that all it's really about? Change? I think it's goes much deeper than that, Mother." Janeway leaned back in her chair and looked skyward, feeling suddenly empty. "How can I remain a captain when I'm prepared to totally disregard the big picture for the sake of one person, even if that person is someone I love more than my own life? More than the lives of my crew?" She swallowed hard, accepting something that she had not wanted to consciously acknowledge before now. "I'm no longer fit for starship command."

"Don't be ridiculous, Kathryn."

"I'm not, Mother. I'm sorry, but you don't...you can't understand. Not unless you've been here."

"Well, I can see you believe that. Which means Seven must be aware of it on some level. God, not much wonder you're both so tied up in knots, even as you try so hard to hide it from each other."

Janeway blinked. Was that why Seven had been seeing Kes, the ship's councilor, on a professional basis? Was that why, though they were both determined to be over their conflict and move on, there was something that still lingered between them, something that neither one wanted to address? She felt sick again.

"Kathryn, don't make any final decisions," Gretchen said urgently, squeezing hard on her fingers. "Particularly one you'll regret. Give yourself some more time. I think you're overreacting, but I also accept that perhaps you're not. In either case, you don't have to do anything about it right away. You and Seven need to be off by yourselves for awhile."

"Seven and I were talking about going to Risa for a vacation," Janeway said uncertainly.

“Perfect. Do it, Kathryn. Get away from everything, including us and Starfleet. You both desperately need some perspective."

Janeway wondered if she would ever gain enough perspective on what she had just learned, no matter where she went or how much time she took.

“Lights.”

Obligingly, illumination came up in the living room of their bungalow. Seven was pleased to see that Phoebe had carried out her instructions precisely as to the placement of their furniture. The rest of their belongings were currently stashed in large totes upstairs in the loft, transported there from the ship, which was docked in the Utopia Planetia orbital yards for a full overhaul. The couple would unpack those later as they settled into their home for the duration of their six-month leave. Carefully carrying the leftovers Gretchen had pressed on her, Seven went out to the kitchen where she deposited them into the cooled storage unit.

Back in the living room, she found Janeway crouched by the fireplace, stacking tinder and kindling under some logs, readying it for ignition. Her tunic had been tossed onto the nearby chair and the sleeves of her sweater were rolled up to her elbows. She glanced up, offered Seven a brief smile and returned her attention to her fire, striking a match to light it. Seven watched her in the flickering flames, wondering what exactly had been said between her and her mother. Janeway had been so subdued after she came out of the study, distant in a way that was only too familiar to Seven. She wasn’t sure where to begin to bridge the sudden gulf she sensed, not necessarily between them, but between Janeway and everyone outside her command.

“Darling?”

Seven offered a smile. “It is good to be home.”

“It is.” Janeway eased down onto her buttocks, resting on the thick, southwestern patterned rug that cushioned her from the hardwood floor, stretching her legs out in front of her, linking her ankles. Lifting her arm, she held out her hand in invitation. “Join me.”

Seven closed the distance between them and sank down onto the rug beside her. Slipping her arm around Janeway’s shoulder, she exhaled softly as Kathryn settled against her. Nuzzling in the thick, auburn hair, she listened to the sound of Janeway’s heartbeat, steady and slow. As they cuddled together, Seven concentrated on the soothing flickering of the fire, the day's stresses easing from her body as the moments passed. Finally, Seven ran her fingers through Janeway's hair.

"I do not believe I understand Gretchen and Phoebe's reaction to the events that occured while we were gone," she said quietly, needing Janeway to clarify it for her. "They were extremely dismissive when I attempted to discuss their ordeal, and both refused to elaborate on what had happened when I asked about it."

Janeway snuggled closer. "I know, sweetheart, they did seem a bit cavalier but I think part of it was an attempt not to worry us. And maybe part of it is because they're not ready to talk about it yet. When I was speaking to Mother in the study, she mentioned that the situation, as it was happening, just didn't seem real to her. Perhaps neither of them have come to terms with it yet. On the other hand, maybe they have come to terms with it and simply see no point in rehashing it for our benefit. I just don't know."

Seven did not find that satisfactory, but sensed that Janeway was as perplexed as she was. Stifling a sigh, she decided that she would have to be patient. Perhaps Gretchen and Phoebe would be more forthcoming with her in the future.

“I suppose the bed isn’t made up.”

Seven lifted her head to look up at the loft, which also led to the master bedroom and ensuite. “I do not believe so. It will not take long to make it up.” She lowered her head and kissed Janeway on the temple. “Are you tired, Kathryn?”

“It’s been a long day,” Janeway admitted. “But I think I want to sit here by the fire for awhile.”

“Then that is what we shall do.”

They shifted a bit so that Seven could lean against the base of the sofa and Janeway could lean against her. Wrapping both arms around her, Seven held her, wanting her to feel surrounded by her love. Perhaps it would be able to close the separation she felt when she could not think of the proper words to do so. And as they sat there, she felt Janeway start to relax. It was subtle, but detectable, a definite surrender in her body language, a vulnerability that appeared in her expression and in her eyes.

“What would you think about staying here?”

“Rather than go on vacation on Risa?”

“No, I mean…” Janeway trailed off. Seven waited with infinite patience, not saying anything and finally Janeway spoke again. “I think it’s time I stepped away from starship command.”

“Unacceptable.”

Startled, Janeway turned her head to look at Seven. “Just like that? ‘Unacceptable’?”

“Yes.” Seven failed to see the need for clarifying what was a perfectly clear and logical response.

“I need more than that, Annika.”

Apparently, clarification was required. Seven again resisted the urge to sigh. “You are eminently suited for starship command, Starfleet requires your services in that capacity for the foreseeable future, and any other role would be less desirable for you at this juncture of your existence.” She tilted her head. “Why would you deem such a alteration in your life necessary at this time?”

“Oh, darling, there are so many reasons.”

Seven wondered if she would list the one that was truly the cause of this unease or if she would divert into causes that were irrelevant to the problem at hand.

“For one thing, it’s becoming more difficult physically to go out on this ship. I’m not getting any younger and the jump syndrome is starting to take its toll.”

"Both myself and the TPG are looking into this problem and I have every confidence there will be a solution found." Seven said calmly. "In any event, I find it difficult to believe that you would allow mere physical discomfort to keep you from duty."

A muscle jumped in Janeway's jaw. Clearly, both pride and ego had been pricked by Seven's cool assessment. "Fine, but there remains the fact that we were looking toward having a family and I'm still not getting any younger."

"I have no desire to add children to our family unit at this time," Seven said honestly. "As for age, theoretically, Gretchen is still capable of bearing offspring thanks to 23rd Century medical techniques, therefore, you have many years yet." The idea of Gretchen producing a young sister or brother for her made Janeway blanch, much to Seven's amusement. "You are not at all old, Kathryn, you are not even middle-aged for a Human. There is no validity in such a claim." Seven paused, considering it. "Kes is old."

Startled, diverted from the topic at hand, Janeway looked wildly at her. "What?"

Seven lifted a brow. "Surely you have noticed the signs of aging she has displayed recently."

"I thought that was deliberate on her part, an effort to make her more approachable as a councilor."

"Initially, those changes were cosmetic, easily detected by my ocular implant as superficial. They are no longer superficial. At this point, her cellular structure is decaying along predicated genetic lines." Seven gentled her tone. "Ocampa live nine years at most, Kathryn. Kes is actually twelve."

"But the Ocampa who were with the second Caretaker were living up to twenty! Her transformation should have extended her life!"

"It did, but only until now. "

"Dear God."

Seven bent her head. "I am sorry, Kathryn, I know this must be difficult for you. She is your friend."

"She is."

Determined to bring the discussion back on course, Seven hugged her. "Why do you wish to leave starship command? It is your first, best destiny."

"You are my first, best destiny, my darling." Janeway nudged her head under Seven's chin, rather like one of the barn cats that populated Gretchen's farm.

Which was close to what was really concerning her, of course, but until Janeway actually acknowledged the true problem to Seven, she would not accept any counter argument. And it was entirely possible that Seven was not the one who could offer the proper counter for Janeway to believe it, being far too close to the issue. But who could?

There were many things that Seven could not change in her life, her assimilation by the Borg, the loss of her parents, the inability to bear children. But if there was only one thing she could take back, one thing that she could alter in her history, it would be that she had never left Kathryn alone for three nights, had never made that demand on her, had never forced her to choose between her command and the woman she loved. It was an inexcusable lapse and Seven had no idea how to repair the damage.

“Are you still interested in going to Risa?” Janeway nudged her gently. “I was thinking we could use a cruise liner for our traveling and spend a week or so on the planet before coming home.”

“A cruise liner?”

“Yeah, it’s a trip totally designed to pamper the traveler. It’ll be completely different from starship duty.”

Seven, who had no real opinion on it, responded to the enthusiasm in Janeway’s voice. “I believe I would enjoy that.”

“Wonderful. I’ll make the arrangements.”

From the change in topics, Seven knew she had ferreted out everything she could this evening. Any further pursuit of it would only serve to irritate Kathryn and make her even less willing to discuss the problem in the future. She would have to bide her time and bring it up at a more opportune moment, such as on their vacation. Lying on the beach, a tropical drink in her hand, well fed and well loved, would leave Janeway particularly vulnerable to any type of philosophical discussion.

She kissed her ear and then her cheek, easing her hand beneath the hem of her sweater to touch the smooth, warm skin of Janeway’s belly. Janeway made a small sound of pleasure, snuggling closer. “Shall I take you to bed, Kathryn?”

Janeway laughed quietly. “I thought you were starting right here.”

Seven stroked higher, a lazy circle over her abdomen.  “Are you not too old for making love on the floor?” she asked pointedly. “I would not wish to cause physical discomfort, thereby preventing you from making any future attempts.”

Janeway sat up, turning to look at her, ire sparking in her gaze. “Oh, you’ll pay for that remark, Sprite.”

Seven lifted a brow, intrigued. “I will?”

She smiled as Janeway bore her down to the floor, mercilessly stripping away her uniform. As she did, Seven happily removed Kathryn’s, tunics and sweaters, trousers and undergarments being scattered about the living area with abandon. Lying on her back, Seven looked up at Janeway straddling her, cupping her breasts as her thumbs fondled her sensitive nipples. Janeway leaned into the caress, her eyes a luminous bluish tint as she stared back.

“Do you know how much I love you?” she whispered.

“I know,” Seven told her quietly. She sat up, slipping her arms around Janeway to hold her close, kissing her passionately. Her smooth skin glowed golden in the firelight and as she felt Kathryn’s legs wrap around her hips, desire flared so strongly in her, it was hard to breathe properly. Fingers tangled in her long, blonde hair, Janeway held her mouth tightly against her own, tongues touching, sweet and slow. Both were panting as Seven trailed down her throat.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” Janeway whispered over and over, a prayer, a chant, a benediction. “My darling Annika.”

“My Kathryn.”

Their lovemaking became quieter, gentler, yet more passionate at the same time, Seven reached down to touch Janeway, her wetness like silk on her fingers. She gasped as she felt Janeway’s hand on her, fingers moving gently but purposefully against her. Whispers of love and passion enhanced their desire and when they both arrived at that glorious peak, almost simultaneously, it was as much spiritual as it was physical. They rocked together in perfect harmony, heartbeats in sync, holding onto each other as if clinging to boulders in a storm.

Eyes closed, Seven hugged Janeway, being hugged in return, feeling safe and happy in the loving afterglow. She listened to her breath, warm and soft on her neck, not wanting to move for the next eon or so, Finally, Janeway drew back a little, enough so that she could look into Seven’s eyes. Smiling faintly, she cupped Seven’s cheek in her palm, but still didn’t say anything, merely looking at her as if she simply couldn’t get enough of the sight of her.

Seven finally leaned forward and kissed her very gently and lovingly, slow and tender, trying to convey all her emotion in that single touch, however inadequate it was for the task, lingering over her lips for some time before drawing back. Janeway made a quiet sound of pleasure in her throat and dropped her head onto Seven’s shoulder, cuddling against her.Seven exhaled quietly and basked in the moment. There were many things the couple had to deal with, but for now, it was enough to hold Janeway and love her. Everything else would come in due time.

She woke slowly, conscious of the warmth wrapped around her back, of the soft breath stirring the hair at the back of her neck. The air, cool and thick with moisture, wafted through the nearby window, cracked open to admit the foggy dawn. She could hear the first twitters of birdsong, the soft rustle of breeze in the leaves, the far off rush of harbor waters. The unfamiliar sounds were undoubtedly what had awakened her, so used was she to the constant hum of warp drive and ship function. The difference was jarring. Snuggling back into Seven’s body, she was grateful for her presence and the knowledge of her love.

She could get used to this, she thought. Could get used to staying on Earth full time. She had been musing on it ever since the conversation with her mother, though she hadn't wanted to let on, especially to Seven. She knew Seven would only feel responsible in some way, and she didn't want that. This was to be her decision and hers alone. And one, she supposed, she had been fooling herself about for some time. There was no balance between being a wife and being a captain. Instead, it had been a juggling act, one that the slightest nudge would disturb. She was just fortunate that the nudge that had made her drop the balls had been without casualties, that no one had to die for her to realize she could not weigh the life of Seven against that of her crew.

She didn't know why she had been so surprised. Hadn't she seen the lesson over and over that one couldn't have it all? That everything came with a price and usually, the greater the reward, the higher the cost? Her father had shown all too well that to be the best in one’s field, something had to give in the other. To be a great Starfleet leader, one had to sacrifice one's personal life. She had thought she'd escaped it, that she had learned from his life and could make hers better. That she was smarter than he was. In truth, all she'd proven to herself was that she had been more oblivious.

The hubris. The sheer, unmitigated gall, to presume she had somehow managed what so many others had tried and failed.

Well, she knew better now, and she was content with her decision. Being with Seven had given her so much, and she could still make a difference in Starfleet administration. If it didn't offer the same excitement and personal satisfaction that starship command did, what did it matter? Certainly being in Seven's arms offered all the excitement and satisfaction any one person could want, or for that matter, even deserve.

Seven made a small sound and stirred, tightening her arms around Janeway. Her hand slipped up to cover her breast but when she didn’t make any further moves, Janeway knew it had been unconscious, a matter of seeking out comfort in sleep rather than an initiation of lovemaking. A little disappointed, she was nonetheless grateful for these moments of quiet reflection before the day drew them from this cozy nest of comfort and peace. Not that it had to, she mused. After all, they were on leave and if they wanted to spend the day in bed, they could.

How long had it been since they had indulged themselves so? Too long, she decided. Time to change that.

Closing her eyes, Janeway allowed herself to drift off, drowsiness stealing over her with irresistible force. When she woke again, it was to Seven’s lips trailing lightly over her neck as her palm chafed her left nipple into exquisite alertness, and long fingers raked through the thin hair of her triangle. Janeway groaned lazily, delighted by the loving hands of her spouse.

“Be still, Kathryn,” Seven whispered. “Let me love you.”

That was a request Janeway rarely, if ever, resisted. Quieting under Seven’s touch, Janeway sank readily into the exquisite joy of hands and mouth moving over her body, the breathy words of love and tenderness in her ears. The touch of Seven’s fingers moving lazily over her clit, massaging in carefully controlled circles, sent ever intensifying chills of pleasure through her. The heavy musk of her desire tickled her nostrils and the provocative sound of Seven’s fingers fondling her wetness left her weak. There was absolutely no better way in the universe to wake up, in her opinion, and she was practically insensate by the time Seven had finished lifting her to her peak.

“God, darling, what you do to me,” she murmured, still trembling in the aftershocks.

“It is only what you inspire, Kathryn,” Seven told her as she hugged her tight. “I have missed these opportunities to indulge our sensuality to its fullest.”

Though often sharing off days while on Millennium, their time together had always been tempered with the knowledge that they could be interrupted at any time, called back to duty with only a hail on their communicators. It was sheer heaven to be in their home in San Francisco, away from the demands and rigors of starship duty. It freed them in a way that they simply weren’t on board ship.

“So have I.” Feeling her strength return somewhat, she rolled over and drew her hands lovingly down Seven’s back, scratching lightly. “Now let me indulge you.”

An hour or so later, they broke for breakfast, though by that time, it could be considered brunch, served to Janeway in bed by Seven who had not bothered to dress. Janeway found the whole experience completely delightful, if a bit wearing. It had been a while since they had thoroughly ravished each other in this manner, and she suspected she was regrettably out of practice as far as physical endurance was concerned. By mid-afternoon, she finally had to cry uncle, lying boneless on the bed, legs and arms askew, every orifice throbbing with exhausted pleasure. Which, of course, required quite a lengthy explanation of what ‘crying uncle’ meant and where the expression had come from, not to mention the amusement it generated in Seven as she realized that the great Janeway had finally admitted to being unable to keep up to her young spouse.

Though Janeway did win the pillow fight such an observation sparked, mostly because she didn’t fight fair and had no compunction about tickling the larger, stronger, more physically capable Seven into submission.

“Enough!” Seven demanded finally, between giggles that she could not stifle.

Janeway hesitated, and then acquiesced, knowing she won because Seven only used a fraction of her strength when fighting back. She rolled over onto her back, still laughing and threw her arms over her head, looking up at the ceiling. “That was fun.”

“I enjoy having fun with you.” Seven rose to her side, leaning on her elbow to look down at Janeway. “We have not had a great deal of fun lately.”

“No, we haven’t. Too busy healing, I suspect,” Janeway said with a brutal honesty more characteristic of her spouse than her.

“Yes,” Seven agreed, a hint of surprise coloring her tone. “Have we finished healing, Kathryn?”

“Perhaps. I’m not sure. What do you think?”

Seven was silent a moment. “I believe there is still a certain amount left to accomplish.”

Janeway reached up and brushed her cheek with her fingertip. “I think you’re right.”

Seven’s leaned down, her lips brushing over Janeway’s, soft and loving. “I have every confidence in our ability to complete the process, Kathryn.”

“I do, too.”

They lay there for a few moments in quiet contemplation of each other before Janeway nudged her gently. “Come on. Let’s shower and get dressed. I’ll take you out for dinner.”

“The Green Dragon?” Seven’s tone was a trifle eager. It was their favorite restaurant, and there were many dishes served up by the chef that defied Seven’s attempts to analyze the ingredients and reproduce the recipes.

“Wherever you want, my love.”

They showered together and it took much longer than it had to as they seized the opportunity to make love once more beneath the stinging spray. Leaning against the tiles walls, looking down at the blonde head and the warm water cascading over the long length of her sinuous back as Seven’s mouth did the most marvelous things to her, Janeway decided that it wouldn’t be at all hard to get used to having this as a regular thing.

They held hands as they walked along the promenade along the waterfront, leading to the restaurant. The sun sparkled off the deep blue waters of the harbor and the span of the Golden Gate Bridge in the distance. The structure had survived several earthquakes since its construction, including a major one in the 21st century that nearly destroyed it entirely. But it had been rebuilt and now seismic devices buried deep along the various fault lines sent out regular and periodic pulses to relieve any building pressure. The ancient structure, maintained by the city as a landmark, need suffer only the wear and tear of the foot and bicycle traffic that tackled its immense span. Janeway had walked and biked across it many times during her time as a cadet at the Academy, but she and Seven had yet to make the attempt. She decided that they would have to before long. The view from the center was spectacular.

Seven squeezed her hand. “What are you thinking?”

“How often we miss opportunities right under our noses. I think maybe we’re so busy pursuing the big picture, we sometimes miss the little things.” Janeway glanced over and smiled. “The little things are important, too.”

“Indeed.”

The restaurant was busy but they were able to get a table on balcony overlooking the harbor. After ordering, Janeway rested her chin on her palm and looked across the table at Seven who was staring thoughtfully at a sailboat moving gracefully through the water. Her long hair was left loose, and it stirred in the slight breeze, strands occasionally drifting across her ocular implant that she brushed away absently. Janeway’s heart felt so full, she thought it would burst.

Seven turned her head and met her gaze, eyebrow lifting. “You are staring, Kathryn.”

“Yes, I am. Your beauty rivals anything that might be out there.”

“You are in an exceedingly odd mood this day.”

“I suppose I am.”

“Is there anything you need to say to me?”

“Just that I love you. And want you.” Janeway lifted her chin and reached across the table, taking Seven’s fingers in her hand, squeezing gently. “And I’m going to have you once we return home.”

“Ah.” Seven murmured.  “Am I to assume that you will not be prevailing upon your mythological uncle this evening?”

“I actually do have an uncle, you know.”

Seven blinked, clearly surprised. “No, I did not know. Why have you never told me about your relative?”

Janeway shrugged, feeling a little embarrassed now that she thought about it. “I suppose it never came up before now. Gerald is my mother’s younger brother. He lives on Falcor Prime, a very Traditionalist colony. It’s extremely old school. Not even land speeders, just horses on which to get around. I guess I don’t talk about him much because I haven’t seen him for years and years. The last time was at Grandfather Taylor’s funeral and he went back almost immediately. I was only fifteen and haven’t seen him since. The Falcorians don’t like space travel as a rule and the colony only has one deep space communicator for emergencies so it’s not as if there’s any way to stay in contact. I hardly think about him.”

“Sometimes, I am unsure how your family line formed. It seems that there is always a marriage between high tech and traditional values that cannot help but clash, from Shannon O’Donnel and Henry Janeway to your father and Gretchen.”

“But they always seem to work out,” Janeway reminded her, smiling. “Look at you and me. You’re a Traditionalist at heart while I, born to the settlement, would rather live in the 24rd Century. Sometimes, those are the best matches of all, particularly once the art of compromise is learned.”

Seven dipped her head. “Always a valuable skill in any endeavor.”

Janeway smiled and leaned back in her chair as the waiter delivered their meals, already looking forward to their return home.

Seven entered the lounge of the huge passenger vessel transporting her and Janeway to Risa for their vacation. Janeway was seated at a table next to a viewport that looked out at the stars and she glanced up at that moment, almost as if she sensed Seven’s arrival. She smiled and lifted her hand slightly, waving her over. There was already had a glass full of red wine in front of her and the bread was on the table. Seven realized she was a little late and quickened her pace across the room. As she did, she was peripherally aware of various eyes, male and female, human and alien, following her progress with ill concealed appreciation. It amused her as she settled into her seat across from Janeway.

“You’re late.”

“I was delayed.”

“By what?”

“Choosing the perfect outfit with which to impress you.”

Startled, Janeway laughed. “Then you selected well, my love, and I’m not the only one that noticed. You certainly made an entrance.” She looked over Seven’s simple, but elegant red sheathe, the shirt cut short to show off the long length of her legs, and the bodice dipping low to display her cleavage. The silver of her implants glinted in the diffused light, appearing more like jewelry than cybernetic enhancements. Her hair had been left loose and long, held back from her face with strategically placed hairpins on either side. “You look absolutely ravishing.”

Seven, satisfied that she had provided her partner with the opportunity to indulge a possessive sort of pride in her appearance, smiled briefly and reached out for some bread. She found traveling as a passenger on the UFP Poseidon a rather odd experience. Though she had journeyed to Trill and Vulcan before while on leave, it had been with Phoebe and Ro on a small, private vessel. This was a huge, luxury cruiser and the passenger list included a wide variety of individuals that Seven would never have encountered in ordinary circumstances. Nor were they the type that normally went into space on a regular basis. Designed to pamper its passengers, the ship boasted gyms, and holodecks and game rooms and large observation decks that looked out on the various spatial phenomena that littered the Alpha Quadrant on the round trip to the vacation planet. There were no attempts at scientific discovery, no in-depth study of the phenomena, merely views of ‘pretty’ vistas before moving on to the next stop on the itinerary.

“I’ve taken the liberty of ordering for you,” Janeway told her.

“A liberty indeed,” Seven said archly. “What am I having?”

“Their seafood platter.”

Seven thought about it. “Acceptable.”

The only thing that made the trip bearable for Seven was that the food on board was simply spectacular, created from scratch from the multitude of five-star chefs that worked in the vast kitchens. Or rather, Seven assumed they were vast. She had not been able to gain permission to visit them, nor could she schedule any time to speak with the various chefs, presumably because they were not prepared to share any of their recipes. So she was reduced to analyzing the probable ingredients from sampling the various offerings. It was admittedly, an inefficient method of determining the construction of the dishes, but one that Seven found somewhat entertaining.

And she would put on a good face because she knew Kathryn desperately needed some time away from Starfleet, her command and all the other burdens she was carrying, some of which she had yet to share with Seven. And for whatever reason, Janeway apparently enjoyed this lazy sail through the stars to Risa, conversing with the other passengers about things of little consequence. Seven suspected the appeal of that would wear off the instant someone talked down to her, either scientifically, technically, or politically but until then, Janeway was not a starship captain…not the woman who had faced down the Borg on countless occasions and came away the victor. She was just another ‘tourist’.

“Why are you smiling?”

Seven lifted a brow. “I am happy to be with you, Kathryn. And pleased that you are enjoying yourself.”

“Even if you’re not?” Janeway’s tone was a bit sardonic.

Seven did not know how to reply to that. She could deceive by omission, but stating something that was untrue was still impossible for her to do convincingly. “As long as you are pleased with our surroundings, I am content,” she said finally, feeling it an inadequate response.

Janeway laughed again, her eyes shaded to a bright blue. “I know you still find it difficult to spend long periods of time without a useful purpose, but that’s what a vacation is for.”

“I will adapt.”

Later, in their stateroom, Seven watched Janeway stretch out on that bed after a long, leisurely bath in the fully appointed ensuite. The tips of her fingers were wrinkled, indicating that she had spent too much time in the hot water but she knew Kathryn was unlikely to listen to any advice regarding it. Leaving the padd she’d been perusing, she moved over to the bed and looked down at Janeway with an analytical gaze.

“See something you like?” Janeway looked back at her with a tiny grin quirking the corner of her mouth.

“I see a great deal I like,” Seven responded honestly. Her eyes trailed over the smooth skin and rounded curves with an intensity that brought a flush to Janeway, leaving her practically glowing.

“Then perhaps you should do something about it.”

“Perhaps.” Seven met her gaze, noting that Janeway’s eyes were shaded their utmost blueness. “Perhaps I merely wish to observe, much like the other ‘tourists’ on board this vessel.”

Janeway chuckled. “You and I both know that actual discovery is far more entertaining than merely observing.”

“Perhaps.” Seven began to undress, aware of Janeway acute scrutiny as she did. Wearing only a dress and brief undergarments, it did not take long. “And what exactly is it that I will discover?”

“That’s part of the thrill.” Janeway’s voice was suddenly very husky. “Not knowing what is out there, though I suspect that there is very little left to discover about me.”

Seven disagreed, knowing that Janeway was more than capable of still surprising her, but didn’t say it. Instead, she crawled onto the bed and reached out to her, drawing her into a warm embrace. The touch of her warm skin on her own was enough to bring tears to her eyes, just from the sheer joy of touching her.

Janeway noticed the shine in her eyes and cupped Seven’s cheek, her expression suddenly very gentle and loving. “My darling.”

“Kathryn.” Feeling absurdly bashful, Seven buried her face in the warm curve of her neck, inhaling her lovely fragrance. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Janeway nuzzled her ear. “I’m sorry I dragged you on this trip. I know it’s not very exciting.”

“No, Kathryn, it is my failing. I have not allowed myself to relax and meet our fellow passengers. Perhaps I am not as socially adept as I believed.”

“You’ll be fine, darling. In any event, we’re invited to sit at the captain’s table tomorrow night,” Janeway assured her. “I’m sure you’ll be able to find things to discuss with the other passengers then.”

Seven drew back to look her in the face. “Is this truly the life you want, Kathryn?”

Janeway exhaled audibly, the expression on her face altering. “Darling, I’ll still be with Starfleet.”

“In an administrative capacity. You would be miserable.”

“It has to happen sometime.”

“But not now, Kathryn. Not yet.”

Janeway’s features, which had tightened, abruptly relaxed and she leaned forward, kissing Seven gently. “I haven’t made any final decisions, darling. As soon as I do, I’ll let you know. In the meantime, I need to work this out on my own. Can you accept that?”

Seven hesitated, but she knew that she had to respect this. For whatever reason, this was not an area where she could help her spouse. She wondered if she dared contact Jean Luc Picard, with whom she shared a certain bond because of their respective experiences with the Borg. It was possible another captain could get through to Janeway where she couldn’t.

Then Janeway kissed her again, and Seven let the topic go as she returned the kiss eagerly, delighted to press full length against her, Sliding her hand between them, she played with Janeway’s breast, fingers seeking out the soft protrusion of nipple to tease and torment it into aching stiffness. Janeway made a sound deep her throat, one of pleasure and anticipation.

Seven could feel Janeway stroke her back and buttocks, gripping the swells firmly to pull their pelvises together, grinding against her. And all the time, they continued to kiss, deep, shattering, hungry kisses, joyful merging of tongues and lips. Seven found it difficult to breathe, to temper the desire rising so strong within her. Janeway grunted as Seven’s left arm squeezed a little too tightly and immediately, Seven relaxed it, stroking Janeway’s spine in mute apology.

Deliberately slowing the pace in an attempt to control her passion, Seven trailed down Janeway’s throat, kissing the small hollow at the base, then dipped her head to cover a pert, brown nipple with her lips, tongue tickling it unmercifully. Janeway squirmed happily and hugged Seven’s head to her, pressing into the caress. As Seven tasted and teased her, Janeway cupped Seven’s breasts, their fullness spilling over her hands as she fondled them. Seven enjoyed the caresses, but she wanted more and she pressed Janeway down against the mattress, moving down her body, kissing her abdomen, using the tip of her tongue to tease her naval.

Placing her palms inside Janeway’s thighs, she urged them apart, spreading her legs wide to grant her access to the tender juncture between them. Eager to taste her, Seven leaned over and drew her tongue lovingly up the entire length of her wetness, the flavor thick and salt-sweet and so uniquely Kathryn that she wanted to weep. Reaching down to cup her buttocks, she held her up, making it impossible for Janeway to move away as Seven focused her entire attention on pleasuring her. She heard Janeway cry out, a half moan, half shout of delight, and hoped that the soundproofing on this vessel was comparable to that of Millennium’s. Her tongue fluttered and swirled over the firm ridge of Janeway’s desire, dipping down to spear into her wetness before returning, a relentless assault that did not falter.

Janeway arched and trembled, driven ever closer to her peak. As she neared it, her clit became elusive, forcing Seven to strengthen her focus, refusing to let it escape. Janeway bucked, once, twice, shuddering helplessly, and the sudden rush of moisture, the involuntary tug of Janeway’s fingers tangled in Seven’s long hair, let her know she was there. With care, Seven carried her through it, lightening her touch but not relinquishing it, keeping the desire present rather than letting it slip away.

Janeway didn’t descend far from the plateau, and Seven began to intensify her oral caress once more. Slipping her hand up under her chin, she used two fingers to penetrate Janeway’s wetness, delighting in the hot, slick walls that squeezed them. Janeway cried out again, gripping Seven’s head tightly, thighs closing about her ears. Seven smiled briefly, the edge of her teeth raking delicately over the tender flesh in a sharp caress, then her tongue soothed over it, laving it deeply as she began to thrust gently, reaching as far as she could into the depths of Janeway’s body.

Janeway’s cries became weaker, brief gasps as Seven moved in and out of her, her lips and tongue constant on her clit. As she felt the helpless shudder that originated deep within Janeway, she thrust a final time, burying her fingers deep, curled up to press on that smooth spot inside. Janeway couldn’t make a sound, her body spasming in mindless pleasure, the pulsations that tried to draw Seven’s fingers deeper inside, went on for several seconds, longer than normal, before finally subsiding.

Quite satisfied with her effort, Seven kissed the throbbing clit with careful tenderness, not wanting to push the over stimulated nerves into numbness. The scent of her, musky and deep, left her intoxicated and rested her forehead on the tangled, damp mat of hair, inhaling deeply. Janeway was a complete feast for her senses, and she basked in it completely, cherishing this moment of Janeway’s complete pleasure.

And decided she was enjoying her vacation after all.

Janeway gathered in the scattered pieces of herself in the lazy afterglow, feeling the delicate touch of Seven’s lips on the tender skin inside her thigh, and then the soft weight of her head lifting up to rest on her stomach. Weakly, she stroked the tangled blonde hair, lightly massaging Seven’s temple, just beside the ocular implant. Occasionally, she would lift a fingertip and draw it over the metal curve, knowing that Seven could feel it and appreciated that Janeway did not avoid her implants.

“Darling, that was astounding.”

Seven made a small sound of amusement. “You always say that.”

“You’re always astounding.” She slid her hand down until her fingers were under Seven’s chin and with a light pressure, urged her up. Seven crawled up her body and settled lightly on top of her, kissing her deeply. Janeway tasted herself on Seven’s mouth, arms wrapped around her body, drawing her down so that more weight was pressing down on her, needing the sense of being covered, of being completely possessed by her.

Seven parted her thighs, pressing her mound against the top part of Janeway’s leg. Undulating gently, she pleasured herself, the little knot of her clit skidding in the moisture. Janeway kissed her again and slipped her hand down the bumpy length of her spine, over the defined hollows at the base of her back and to the cleft between her buttocks. She could just reach the seeping wetness, covering her fingers in silken moisture before slipping back to circle her anus.

Seven groaned and increased her undulations, head falling beside Janeway’s so that her breath was heavy in her ear. Smiling, Janeway teased open the wrinkled orifice, carefully easing her finger inside, pushing past the restrictive muscle inside.

“Not enough, Kathryn,” Seven gasped.

“I know, darling,” Janeway murmured softly. “Just enjoy it for a few minutes.”

As Seven hunched against her leg, Janeway pushed deeper inside, feeling the tight walls squeeze her finger. After several long, pleasurable minutes, she kissed her cheek, and then her mouth. “Roll over, darling.”

They shifted until Seven was on her stomach and Janeway had sat up, using her hands to spread Seven’s cheeks apart, revealing the anus that held more nerve endings than the other parts of Seven’s genitals. Janeway pressed her face against the smooth skin of her buttocks, licking the small opening avidly, pushing her tongue into the sultry channel. Finding Seven’s clit with her fingertips, she rubbed it firmly, causing Seven to arch and moan quietly. Her desire already intense from making love to Janeway caused her to climax quickly, shivering under Janeway’s touch but Janeway didn’t stop, wanting to grant Seven as much gratification as she had granted her, keeping her at that sweet level of delight for as long as possible.

Finally, Seven jerked against her with a low cry that was as telling as a scream from anyone else, quivering in helpless joy as her left hand crushed the pillow into an unrecognizable mass. Janeway bestowed a few final kisses to the tiny opening and crawled up Seven’s body, resting her body on the lovely length of Seven’s back. She kissed her neck and shoulder, drawing her hair back from her ear so that she could nibble on the lobe.

“More?” she whispered.

“No more, Kathryn,” Seven responded weakly. She paused. “Uncle.”

Janeway laughed and hugged her. “I love you, Annika. You’re my heart.”

“You are mine,” Seven promised her. She didn’t move as Janeway drew up the blankets that had been tossed askew and snuggled in against her. “Will I enjoy Risa, Kathryn?”

“Hmm, white sand beaches, crystal waters, wonderful snorkeling and diving, long walks through the jungle…darling, I think you’ll love it.”

Seven was silent for a moment. “Have you been there before?”

Janeway considered how to answer that. “A few times,” she admitted.

“With whom?”

“While I was at the Academy, during a class trip. Spring break.”

“You went on ‘spring break’? I had not thought you would do such a thing. Gretchen said you were excessively serious as a cadet.”

“Oh, she did.” Janeway ran her hand lazily over Seven’s back, scratching lightly. “I admit, I had to be talked into it, but I had a surprisingly good time. It was good for me to loosen up a little and have fun with my classmates.”

“And the other times?”

Janeway resisted the urge to sigh, but she knew Seven wouldn’t just let this go. “Once with Justin Tighe, my fiancé.” She felt Seven stiffen at that, but she didn’t say anything. “And a couple of times with Mark.” She heard a brief sound from Seven. “You didn’t just growl, did you?”

“Why do you wish to take me there?” There was a silky note in Seven’s voice that did not bode well.

Janeway nuzzled her ear. “Because I want to make new memories with you. When I think of Risa, I want to remember your smile under the moonlight and your touch in the sea.”

Seven hesitated, and then rolled onto her side, reaching out to enfold Janeway into a strong embrace. “Forgive my jealousy, Kathryn.”

“No need, my darling,” Janeway muttered. “I like that I can make you jealous once in a while…as long as you don’t go and punch anyone.”

“There is no need. Justin is dead and Mark is far away.”

“You’re awful.”

“You are mine, Kathryn Janeway,” Seven whispered fiercely as she hugged her tight. “I will never give you up, especially to another.”

“You’ll never have to, my love.” Janeway told her. She snuggled closer, tucked up under Seven’s chin in the most loving, protected and safe place in the universe. “Good night.”

“Sleep well, Kathryn.”

The day found them trying out shuffleboard…Seven easily defeated the competition since it was merely a matter of computing angles and thrust…and some long swims in the pool. There was a twenty-four hour buffet set up so Janeway found herself stopping by for snacks quite often, even as she was aware of her waistband tightening. She had not thought gluttony one of her vices but everything was just so good, and to be perfectly honest, there wasn’t much else to do besides eat on this trip. Then she discovered the tennis courts on one of the lower decks and immediately sought out Seven and dragged her onto the court after a quick description of the rules.

“Is this at all like Velocity?” Seven regarded her racket warily once they had spent some time warming up. Seven had kept the ball in play with precision if without a great deal of power.

“No, not really.” Janeway bounced the ball a couple of times. “Do you understand the rules?”

“I do.” Seven bent over in the ready position. “Proceed.”

Janeway, who had been a very good player when she was younger, tossed up the ball and served to Seven’s forehand. Seven smashed it down the line for a clean winner. Janeway unhappily regarded the spot where it struck, barely an inch inside the baseline, and moved over to the ad court. “Love fifteen.”

She served to Seven’s backhand. Seven sliced it down the line for another clean winner, the ball barely coming up from the surface as it skimmed toward the back of the court. Janeway straightened up and dashed her racket to the ground. “Damn it, Seven.”

Seven peered at her uncertainly over the net. “Am I playing incorrectly?”

“No, it’s just that…do you have to be spectacular at everything the very first time you try it?”

Seven lifted her brow. “I did not hear you complain the first time we made love.”

The offhand comment threw Janeway off stride and her temper disappeared in an instant, a laugh bubbling up from her chest. “No, I certainly didn’t complain then.” She bent over and picked up her racket, examining it for cracks. “Okay, so we’re agreed I’m not going to be able to beat you. Can you keep the ball in play long enough for me to get some exercise? I need to work off some of this food.”

“Very well, Kathryn.”

Janeway did manage to win points here and there through luck and a couple of radical spins that baffled Seven briefly, but in the end, though she had played all out, Seven ended up winning love and love. Janeway decided that she wouldn’t teach Seven anymore games where physical prowess and coordination beat experience and cleverness. It was bad enough she could no longer keep up with her in Velocity.

After returning to their stateroom where they showered and dressed in their best clothes, they made their way to the main lounge where the passengers had gathered for a formal dinner. Everyone in first class had the chance to dine with the captain over the course of the weeklong trip and finally, it was Janeway and Seven’s turn.

The large round table was half full as Janeway took her seat, Seven at her side, and she glanced at the head of the table. Bingham was an older man, rather distinguished and handsome with silver touching his temples. His snowy uniform was dazzling white, the gold trim glinting in the light. Janeway thought he looked rather like an ice cream vendor but kept her thoughts to herself. Despite the type of starship, he was still captain and that counted for something.

Across from Janeway, a young, newly married Vulcan couple, Sporn and T’Prawn, waited for the latecomers with stately dignity. Beside them, a Betazaid female, Lady Rudea Hann, appeared so elderly and frail that a stiff breeze might blow her away. She toyed fretfully with her silverware as the rest made light conversation. A middle-aged Human male, introduced as Barr Rogers, sat beside her, but did not appear to be an associate, directing all his attention to the voluptuous woman from Valdor Prime across from him. Cas Poolan had bestowed a single look of intense dislike toward Seven, probably challenged and intimidated by her looks, before monopolizing Rogers, who might be the only single man at the table. Janeway resisted the urge to laugh.

Janeway had barely settled when the final three members of their party, all male, arrived. Her heart dropped like a rock to the tip of her toes, and she was sure her face was now boasting a rather sickly smile. Beside her, Seven made a small sound, half way between a growl and a snarl, extremely similar to B’Elanna at her worst.

“I’m sorry I’m late. I was unavoidably…Kathryn!”

Mark Johnson smiled brightly as he promptly claimed the seat on the other side of Janeway, Beyond him, two Yassim, who always traveled as a bond pair, nodded politely to the rest.

“Where is your wife and children?” Seven demanded bluntly, leaning across Janeway to glare at Mark.

“Seven,” Janeway muttered in a low undertone, embarrassed.

Mark offered a somewhat bittersweet smile, but took no offense at Seven’s tone or manner. Perhaps he thought her abrasiveness was merely part of her personality since he had never experienced anything different. “Back on Earth. Things haven’t been going well, I’m afraid. We’ve decided to a trial separation.” He looked back at Janeway. “Are you two here on official business?”

“We’re on vacation,” Janeway said shortly, and turned her attention to Rudea, recognizing her from previous encounters at diplomatic conferences. She had once been Betazed’s ambassador to Vulcan before retiring a few years ago. “Excuse me, Lady Hann, I was wondering about your position on the upcoming Bajoran referendum.”

Too late, she remembered the Betazed predilection for complete honesty, even from their diplomats.

“You merely wish to speak to me to avoid speaking to him,’ Hann responded in a querulous tone. “Please do me the honor of only speaking to me if it is me to whom you truly wish to speak.”

Janeway heard a barely audible snicker from someone across the table and shot a look at Seven who merely lifted an admonishing eyebrow. Stifling a sigh, Janeway focused her attention on the appetizer that had just been placed in front of her,

Suspecting that it was going to be a very long evening.

Seven took Janeway into her arms as music filled the dance floor. Glancing down into her eyes, she took note of the stormy gray shade of the irises and felt her jaw tighten. Janeway was undoubtedly upset at her demeanor at dinner and would be sure to address it as soon as possible.

“Are you angry with me, Annika?”

“Did you know he was a passenger on this cruise?” Seven countered quickly, going on the offensive. “Is that why you chose this method of transportation to Risa?”

“That’s absolutely ridiculous.” Janeway frowned. “Why would I do that?”

“To teach me a lesson. To show me how it feels to be left, to show how it feels to have someone else interested in you.”

Janeway tightened her grip on Seven’s shoulders. “Do you honestly believe me to be that petty? Or dishonest?”

Seven considered it. “No, but I did hurt you. It would be a natural human response to want revenge.”

“Is it really in my nature to want revenge?” Janeway seemed astonished at the charge.

“Of course it is, Kathryn. You delighted in humiliating Tazna Jade. You took pride in deceiving Kashyk. You deliberately----“

“Fine, so it’s part of my nature.” Janeway was exasperated, interrupting before Seven could recite the entire list of examples. “Has it ever been part of my nature with you?”

“No, it has not.” Seven was silent as they moved about the dance floor. “Why is he here? I find it unlikely that traveling alone on a cruise liner is conducive to resolving the problems in his marriage.”

“No, but Risa is a great place to lick one’s wounds, particularly if one is single, male and looking for physical comfort.” The tone was rather cynical and Seven dipped her head, pressing her cheek against Janeway’s temple. She felt Janeway relax as she did, the couple no longer moving as stiffly as they had. “He means nothing to me, darling.”

“But he did,” Seven said wistfully. “In another universe, you married him.”

“And we both know how that turned out, don’t we?”

Seven felt ashamed of her display of pique. “Yes, we do. And in that universe, you also discovered how much you required starship command to make you complete.”

Exasperated, Janeway glared at her. “Boy, you never give up, do you?”

“That is not in my nature.”

“No, I don’t suppose it is.” Janeway abruptly sighed and pulled her closer, resting her head on Seven’s shoulder. “Dance with me, darling. Let me enjoy our vacation.”

“Very well, Kathryn.”

Seven brushed her lips over Janeway’s forehead in mute apology and swept her around the floor, determined to forget about Johnson and the past. They stayed out for another dance before returning to the table where the rest of their company had broken up, Barr and Cas had gone off to the bar, while the Yassin had retired for the evening. The captain and Lady Hann remained in deep conversation. Before Seven had settled into her chair, Mark had seized Janeway’s hand.

“C’mon Kath, dance with me.”

Janeway shot a look over her shoulder at Seven, half entreating, half warning and followed him, apparently not wanting to cause a scene. Seven fumed, knowing that with anyone else, Janeway would have promptly put him in his place if she didn’t want to dance. She watched them move into each other’s arms on the dance floor, moving together as if they’d never been apart.

“Annika, have you and Kathryn been together long?” T’Prawn asked.

Startled, Seven looked at her, remembering belatedly that Janeway had introduced them without indicating Starfleet rank or her Borg heritage. It was odd to be addressed by the designation that only her closest friends were wont to use.

“We have known each other seven years.” Seven suddenly remembered something B’Elanna had once said to her, something about a ‘seven year itch’, referring to a situation where after seven years together, one member of the couple started to seek pursuits outside the boundaries of the relationship. Did that contribute to their recent rift? Was she losing touch with Janeway? Was Janeway becoming bored with her?

Angered, and not a little frightened, Seven rose swiftly from her chair and strode purposefully out to the dance floor. Janeway spotted her over Mark’s shoulder and her eyes widened in alarm. That was enough to temper Seven’s headlong rush and instead of forcibly pulling Mark away and tossing him across the room, she restrained herself to tapping him on the back.

“I am cutting in,” she stated firmly. It was not a request. He hesitated briefly, but one look at her expression, one of Borg implacability, made him force a smile and back gracefully away.

“Of course.”

Janeway exhaled audibly once Mark had wandered off. “I thought you were going to punch him.”

Seven, still unsettled, pulled her close. “That was my intention,” she said honestly. “I reconsidered.”

“I’m glad you did.”

“Kathryn, I am afraid.”

Startled, Janeway peered up at her. “Of what, darling? Mark. Please, don’t be.”

“No, of our drifting apart.” Seven felt tears sting her eyes. “Kathryn, I know I placed you in an untenable position when I demanded you turn the ship around. I would give my life to undo that.”

“Annika,” Janeway began, hesitated and glanced around. “Darling, we can’t talk here.”

“We must talk of this as soon as possible.” Seven stopped and stared down at her. “It is imperative.”

Janeway’s jaw firmed, her lips tightened, but she nodded. “You’re right. But this is not the place.”

“Our stateroom.”

“Yes, we can---“

Before Janeway had completed her thought, the deck beneath them shifted abruptly to the right, knocking them both down. Seven’s breath slipped out of her with a huff as she landed on her back and for a few seconds, her vision darkened. Then she realized it was the main power, the lights on the ceiling flickering off, plunging everyone into an inky darkness before coming back on at a much lower brightness. Rolling over onto her side, she looked for Janeway who was on her belly a few feet away, looking dazed.

Around them, screams rose and there was a sudden chaos that Seven was unused to. On a Starfleet vessel during a crisis, once the immediate initial surprise and shock wore off, training imposed itself and things became very controlled and organized. That was not the case here. People were banging on the pressure doors, which had slammed shut at the first jolt, indicating a hull breech, while others ran around at random, without direction. Others stayed where they were, but continued to scream, cry out, curse and babble as the captain, the waiters and few other crewmembers that had been having dinner, attempted to regain control.

Disturbed, Seven crawled over to Janeway and they helped each other to their feet.

“Report.” Janeway’s voice was clipped and professional.

“I have no idea, Kathryn. I was here with you.”

Janeway blinked, glanced at her and managed a small smile. “Point taken. Guess I’m still a bit out of it.” Her smile disappeared as she looked around at the chaos surrounding them. “That felt like a weapons impact. Not phasers. More like a photon torpedo.”

“Pirates?” Seven suggested.

“On the run between Earth and Risa? They’d be extremely rash pirates if that were the case.”

Janeway’s eyes narrowed as she saw Bingham attempting to calm a hysterical Cas Poulan who had seized the front of his tunic, no longer so snowy white, in a grip that seemed impossible for him to escape. Quickly, Janeway went over, skillfully detached Cas from him and handed her to Seven who didn’t quite know what to do with her. She shook her slightly, sat her down forcefully in a nearby chair, and held a finger up in front of her face.

“Be silent,” she demanded icily. “Your behavior is unacceptable. Be thoughtful in your actions and you will live. Lose control, and you will die.”

Cas gulped and nodded, looking at her with wide eyes. Seven shot a hard look at her, making sure she stayed put and turned her attention back on her partner and Bingham who were conversing intently. Others, sensing this sudden area of calmness in the disorder, were drawn closer.

“You’re both Starfleet?”

“I’m captain of the USS Millennium,” Janeway said. “Seven is my chief science officer. We’re very familiar with emergency procedures.”

“We’re all right here in the lounge,” Bingham said. “Once the pressure doors activated, we went to auxiliary power in this end of the vessel, but for the rest of the ship, who knows? Communications have failed, though as soon as we felt an impact, an emergency beacon went out. We can expect rescue before long. We’re in one of the more heavily traveled areas of space.”

“Our first objective is to secure the lounge, and calm everyone down,” Janeway said. Seven noted that as soon as Bingham discovered her identity, he began to subtly defer to her and without a blink of an eye, Janeway stepped naturally into the superior position. “Take stock of what we do know in terms of personnel and resources. We’ll make the bar our center of operations. We’ll set up a medical triage near the starboard hull. Anyone with any medical training at all needs to be pressed into service. Let’s do it.”

Everyone jumped to it, moving with purpose and yet again, Seven was reminded why command was Janeway’s first, best destiny.

She accompanied her to the large bar that dominated one end of the lounge. There, they discovered Rogers swigging directly from the bottle. Janeway snatched it away from him.

“Belay that.”

“Who the hell do you think you are!?!”

Belligerent, he jumped to his feet and immediately fell back down again as Seven hit him in the sternum with her left hand. He thrashed a bit on the floor, gasping for breath.

“You, and you, take him over there, sit him down and keep him there.” Janeway pointed at the bartender and the waiter and such was her aura and whip of command in her voice that they didn’t hesitate, hustling Rogers over to a nearby table. Janeway turned to Seven, lowering her voice. “We need to find out what’s going on.”

Seven moved to the register where the bartender kept track of the drinks ordered by the passengers. Synthale, and the various concoctions made from it, was free, of course, easily replicated, but real alcohol, distilled and fermented in the traditional fashion, from wines to spirits, cost latinum and was charged to the passenger’s stateroom. As a result, the computer was tied into the ship’s main database and Seven was happy to see that it appeared to be online.

Quickly, she bypassed all the meager security protocols, intended to prevent theft of latinum accounts, and tapped into the main computer. The news was not good, and she could feel the surge of nanoprobes in her body as it reacted to her emotions, though she was careful not to let any show on her face, aware of people peering over at them anxiously.

But Janeway was intimately familiar with all her expressions and she moved closer. “What is it, Lieutenant?”

“The bridge is gone, Captain.” Though it was only the two of them, the couple fell easily and unconsciously into their professional roles. “No life signs and the entire upper section is exposed to hard vacuum. There is only minimum shielding remaining.”

“What happened? Was the ship attacked?”

Seven did a further scan, limited to a system that was much less than anything she dealt with in Starfleet. “It appears to be a magnetic strand of some kind, but of a kind never before encountered.”

“A magnetic strand would short out the systems, it wouldn’t cause this kind of damage.”

“As I said, it is not an ordinary manifestation of this phenomena.” Seven frowned as she went over the data. “I cannot determine any more with this equipment. In any event, the bridge is inaccessible to us without the use of vacuum suits.”

“What about the engine room? That’s where auxiliary control is usually located on this type of vessel.”

<>Seven brought up the ship schematics, matching them against the damage reports. “It may be possible to reach it. Why?”
“We need to get there.”<>

Seven turned to look at her, her ocular implant lifted. “Captain?”

“We don’t have a choice, Seven, we need to get this vessel under control.” Janeway frowned at her spouse, unable to fathom why Seven was acting so uncooperative.

“I was under the impression we were on vacation. In any event, didn’t Captain Bingham expect us to be rescued in the next few hours?”

“It doesn’t matter. When they show up, we should at least appear to be trying to rescue ourselves.”

“Is that a Starfleet directive?”

Janeway stared at her. “Why are you being like this?”

“I am merely curious, Kathryn,” Seven said blandly. “If you cannot stop being a starship captain even on vacation, what causes you to believe you can retire and live out the rest of your life that way?”

Janeway felt her jaw tighten. “Find me a way to that engine room, Lieutenant.”

Seven eyed her for a moment as if debating whether she would continue the argument, but then turned to her task, laboring over the limited system until she had managed to bring up the ship maintenance schematics. “There appears to be some kind of venting system used by automatons for maintenance purposes, similar to our Jeffries tubes. They remain pressurized.”

“Can we travel through them?”

Seven glanced sideways at her. “In these?”

Janeway stared at her blankly, then down at herself and the elegant blue evening gown she was wearing. Seven’s dress was equally unrealistic for hard work, a long, silver sheathe that clung to her voluptuous body in delightful, but impractical ways. “We’ll have to improvise.”

Seven stared at her with a skeptical expression. Glancing around, Janeway spotted a sharp knife that the bartender used to cut fruit for cocktails. She used it to slash the length of her gown, leaving a slit up the front and back that accorded her total freedom of motion. Then she handed it to Seven who eyed it in horror as if she had just handed her a live rattler.

“Captain, this gown is an original.” Her tone became a touch higher, the way it always did when she was about to take a stance from which she could not be budged. “I acquired it in Paris during my last trip there with Phoebe.”

“It’s only clothing, Seven.”

“It was created by a designer solely for me. To cut it up is tantamount to destroying one of Phoebe’s paintings. It is despoiling a work of art.”

“You can always go naked,” Janeway suggested with a touch of sarcasm and immediately bit her tongue. Knowing Seven, she’d do just that if it meant she could save her dress.

Fortunately, Seven merely cast her a scornful look and then glanced around. Spotting a young waiter with her approximate dimensions, she pointed at him. “You. I require your garments. Undress.”

The young man gaped at her. “What?”

“I am required to secure this vessel. I cannot function in that capacity while wearing this gown, therefore, I must have your clothing.”

His mouth fell open and he looked helplessly at Captain Bingham. He was not particularly sympathetic, a glint of what even might have been amusement in his eyes. “You heard the lieutenant, son. Give her your pants.”

Embarrassed, he started to peel off his coat, shirt and trousers, leaving him in pale blue boxer shorts and a t-shirt, though truth be told, he would soon be joined by others, who were already removing their jackets and loosening shirt collars. The environmental controls had been affected by the impact and the temperature was steadily rising in the lounge. If they couldn’t manage anything else in the engine room, Janeway thought, at least they might be able to repair that system and make it a little more comfortable for the passengers to wait out the rescue.

Seven also started to casually undress and, biting off a curse, Janeway grabbed her arm and hustled her into the small alcove next to the bar where the supplies that couldn’t be replicated were kept. It afforded a bit of privacy and prevented anyone else from seeing Seven in the brief bits of silk and lace, chosen specifically to pique Janeway’s interest back in their stateroom after dinner. The pants were loose around the waist and a trifle snug around her hips, but Seven managed. She tucked the shirt in, leaving the top few buttons undone. Janeway thought she looked even sexier that way than she had in the dress. She realized she was staring and firmly took her libido in hand, shoving it to the back of her mind where it belonged.

“Kathryn, I want to come with you.”

Janeway turned, feeling a sinking sensation in her chest, but before she could say anything, Seven had moved forward aggressively, positioning herself between Mark and Janeway.

“Unacceptable. Your physical qualifications are lacking, your mentality is ill equipped to deal with emergency procedures and your unfamiliarity with starships would hinder our progress.”

Mark offered her a dark look. “You’ve never liked me.”

Since that was self evident, apparently Seven did not deem it worthy of a response. She merely stared at him as if he were a bug she was thinking of assimilating. Janeway tried not to roll her eyes as she put her hand on Seven’s arm and subtly urged her back. “Mark, thank you for the offer bu---“

“You need me, Kathryn.”

Outraged at the presumption of the tone, Janeway lifted her chin. “I do not need you, Mr. Johnson. Not in any capacity now or in the future.”

It was harsh and far blunter than her diplomatic nature tended to allow, but her previous attempts to dissuade him had obviously fallen on deaf ears. Flushing, he opened his mouth to say something, glanced at Seven who was staring at him, clearly eager to knock him to the deck as she had Rogers, and closed it with a snap. With a final dark look, he turned and stalked away, anger radiating from the stiff set of his shoulders. Janeway turned to Bingham, dismissing Mark from her thoughts. “Captain, with your permission, Lt. Hansen and I will make an attempt to reach the engine room, not only to hook up with any surviving crewmembers there, but also to see if we can regain any control over the ship’s systems.”

“I should be the one to go.” He looked troubled.

“Actually, I believe you and your ship would be better served with you here, helping the civilians,” Janeway said delicately. “I don’t often deal with paying customers on my vessel.”

He nodded. His loyalty was to the company that employed him, not Starfleet. And while theoretically, the same rules applied to all ships in space, it was a lot easier to organize and deploy Starfleet personnel in situations like this than untrained civilians who would be looking to him not necessarily for hard answers, but for easy solutions. He would have a great deal of training in soothing over outraged and frightened people, the sort of training that a Starfleet captain would be less comfortable with than a straightforward, more militaristic approach, expecting everyone to perform to the best of their abilities, not the worst of their natures.

“We do this all the time, sir,” she added gently. “Just another day on the job.”

“Excuse me, Captain Janeway, can we be of assistance?”

Janeway turned to the Vulcan couple, Sporn and T’Prawn.  T’Prawn took a step closer. “I serve as an engineering officer on the USS Potemkin. My husband serves in a civilian capacity as a exobiologist and has been on many away missions.”

“Excellent,” Janeway said, honestly pleased. It was her long held opinion that any mission benefited from the presence of a Vulcan or two. She glanced around, weighing the other people in the crowd. It had quieted down considerably now that everyone had a task and the injured were being treated. “Captain Bingham, is there anyone here from your maintenance team? I’d like someone who’s familiar with all the nooks and crannies of your vessel.”

Bingham looked blank for a moment, but one of his other officers stepped forward. “Crewman Nagle is here, ma’am. He’s a waiter now but he worked in maintenance our last two runs.”

“Where is he?”

A young, dark haired Bajoran was ushered forward, brown eyes wide and uncertain. Janeway consciously gentled her tone. “Do you know your way around the maintenance tubes?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Will you show us the way to the engine room?”

“I wouldn’t recommend it, ma’am.”

Janeway noticed Seven’s eyes narrow at this comment. “Why not?” she asked with forced patience.

“It’s dangerous.” His voice, initially so soft as to be unheard, strengthened as he talked. “There are cross vents that can suck you down before you even know you’re on them, there are gravity wells that can crush you, and if any of the conduits were ruptured during the collision, then there could be whole compartments filled with leaked plasma.”

“That’s why we need you to lead us through safely.”

He glanced at his captain, saw the answer in Bingham’s face and deflated. But after a second, Janeway was pleased to see him square his shoulders and nod slightly. “Aye, ma’am, I’ll try to get you through.”

“Very good.” Janeway turned to the others in her party. “Let’s do this.”

The team loaded up on whatever they thought might be useful: flasks of water, a trail mix of sorts made from bar nuts and fruit, and some handheld lights. Using various personal padds donated by passengers, Seven was able to cobble together a makeshift tricorder that hopefully would be able to scan areas immediately around them and give some kind of warning if anything was ahead of them.

Behind the bar, near the alcove of supplies, they discovered an access panel to the maintenance tubes. They crowded into the first section, and then carefully sealed the door behind them, maintaining the integrity of the lounge. Seven scanned the door and determined after a few moments that there was pressure on the other side and that it was safe to go through.

Janeway could see that Seven found little purpose in their mission, and while she would never allow Janeway to go without her, she probably thought it was more efficient to remain in the lounge and await rescue. She was no coward, of course, but she had always been more prudent about her adventuring than Janeway was. In fact, she usually found herself dragged into trouble only because of Janeway, either following her orders, or disregarding those orders in order to rescue Janeway. But left entirely to her own devices, Seven liked an orderly, controlled existence, one that maintained a smooth flow with little in the way of disruption. Janeway, on the other hand, thrived on the edge, liked the challenge and the thought of staying trapped in the lounge with a bunch of panicked civilians left her feeling claustrophobic and on the verge of panic herself. She’d much rather be crawling about in maintenance tubes in the tattered remains of her ball gown, regardless of what dangers might lie ahead.

Seven was merely coming along to make sure Janeway stayed safe, or perish with her, whichever the case may be. All or nothing and not for the first time, Janeway wondered why she had ever thought Seven would leave her. Their existence was so tied up with each other that trying to function without the other, while doable, was practically unbearable.

Smiling to herself, Janeway waited until the hatch had slid back and quickly crawled forward to be the first into the next section. This vacation was turning out to be more interesting than she had originally planned.

Seven kept one eye on her makeshift tricorder while trying to keep the other on her incorrigible spouse. There was no reason they couldn’t have waited for rescue in the lounge with the other passengers, but Janeway refused to accept such a passive position. For someone who insisted that a vacation was meant for doing nothing at all, whenever anything happened, she had to be right in the middle of it or she wasn’t happy.

She made a grab for her as Janeway scooted past on her way through the opened hatch, unable to prevent her from jumping first into the unknown. If she were fully Human, Seven would have cursed. Instead, she made an inarticulate sound at the back of her throat and hurried after her.

The short tube opened up into a section where they could stand up. There were six more hatches here, radiating in different directions. Seven did a quick scan, displeased with the limited capabilities of the tricorder. If she’d had more time, she could have refined its parameters a little more, but Janeway had insisted that the sooner they leave, the sooner they would have the environmental controls repaired. Seven suspected that Janeway was less concerned with easing the suffering of the passengers and more interested in getting away from them.

Nagle studied the board in front of him, apparently trying to decide which way was the best for reaching the engine room. She moved up beside him, aware of him glancing nervously at her.

“Your recommendation?”

“Uh, I think we should try this passage,” he said, voice quavering uncertainly.

“Are you certain?” She stared at him, assessing his competence.

“I’m sure Crewman Nagle knows what he’s doing.” Janeway came up beside them and shot a stern glance at Seven, warning her off. Seven lifted a brow, unimpressed, but turned away to study her tricorder readings, leaving Janeway to sooth Nagle’s nerves and calm him enough to function properly. For some reason, Seven wasn’t very good at that sort of thing, as members of her department could readily attest.

Finally, they decided on a hatch and carefully unsealed it. With Nagle taking the lead, they entered the next section. This was larger than the previous one, with enough headroom to walk upright rather than crawling on hands and knees. Before long, they came to a shaft that dropped downward and as Seven peered down it, she estimated the distance to the bottom to be approximately seventy-four point seven meters. A considerable drop, even for one of her Borg enhanced abilities. Running along the sides, metal rungs made up a ladder that could be traversed regardless of which way the gravity was set.

“Down here,” Nagle said. “This should take us to the lower decks and then it should only be a short distance to the engine room.”

“Lead the way,” Janeway instructed.

He glanced at her unhappily, but did as requested, with T’Prawn after him. Seven started down after her and before Janeway, wanting to be there to catch her if she slipped. The party had descended about fifty or so meters when Nagle abruptly stopped.

“Did you feel that?” There was a definite tinge of panic in his voice.

“Feel what?” Janeway demanded from above their heads.

Seven had felt it. “There was an alteration in air pressure,” she stated with some authority, anchoring herself with an arm around the rung as she dug her tricorder out of her pants pocket. “Air that was moving in one direction…down the shaft…has reversed course and is now flowing up the shaft. It is barely perceptible to Human senses.” She glanced down at Nagle in approval.

He didn’t notice, the whites of his eyes showing in wide rims around the dark irises. “This isn’t good.”

Seven felt a flicker of alarm. “Why not?”

“Because it usually indicates a reversal in---Aaagghhh!!”

Gravity reversed itself. Up became down and everyone was suddenly struggling to maintain their position. Nagle flipped completely, barely hanging on to his rung as his body slammed into the bulkhead with an audible thud. Seven, already anchored with her arm, lost her tricorder but was able to maintain her stance, which was now facing downward. As she did, she heard a yelp above…now below…her as Janeway dangled by one hand before she was able to grab on with her other. At the same time, Seven was aware of a body plummeting past her and without thinking, she reached out and snagged T’Prawn by the wrist, bringing her to an abrupt halt against the side of the shaft.

“Good God, don’t drop her, Seven!”

Seven almost, but not quite, rolled her eyes. “I was not contemplating that course of action, Captain,” she said through gritted teeth.

Janeway shot a sharp look up at her in response to the sardonic tone in her voice, but didn’t say anything further in the way of instructions. Instead, she looked down toward Sporn. “We have her. She’s all right.”

“Yes, Captain.” He did not change expression or display any agitation at the fact that his new bride was dangling over a fifty-meter drop. Seven appreciated his practical nature as she maneuvered T’Prawn over to where she could get a grip on the ladder rungs above Janeway’s head. T’Prawn was equally stoic about being in such a precarious position, not screaming, or struggling or doing any of those other fruitless actions that most Humanoids were prone to do in similar situations. All in all, Vulcans were much easier to deal with in a crisis that the average Starfleet officer, Seven decided.

Once T’Prawn was secure, Seven carefully turned around so that she was once more upright, though apparently that would be a relative concept should the gravity reverse again.

“What was the point of that?” Janeway demanded waspishly.

Nagle shrugged. “Don’t know. There’s usually an alarm that goes off before it shifts but I guess that isn’t working.”

“It’s fortunate you noticed the air pressure differential,” Sporn offered logically. “That offered us a chance to prepare ourselves.”

“Some of us, at any rate,” T’Prawn said.

Seven glanced down at her, wondering if that was a joke, unused to hearing such a comment from a Vulcan. Of course, they were young and thus, more frivolous than their elders.

“What happens when we reach the lower deck,” she asked Nagle instead as they resumed what had now become a climb. “Will the gravity reverse once more?”

“It should be normal outside this tube which means we’ll have to be really careful when we unseal the hatch.”

“Indeed.”

When Nagle reached the top, he carefully opened the hatch, but didn’t immediately go through. Instead, he turned around and dropped through. It was a rather odd sight, but in space, where gravity was artificially created anything was possible. Seven followed his lead and turned around. Even so, the jolt while crossing the transition threshold made her feel every muscle. She knew it would be worst of all for Janeway, lacking the superior physiology of the Vulcans, or Seven’s cybernetic advantages. The captain let out a grunt as she came through the hatch, falling rather dropping into Seven’s arms, but she caught her breath and nodded once Seven settled her back on her feet, indicating she was all right.

“Where to?”

Nagle was already at another hatch. “We should be right next to the main corridor leading to the engine room.”

“Is there any way to determine if the corridor maintains pressure?” T’Prawn lifted a thin brow. Nagle immediately paused, the expression on his face indicating that he hadn’t considered that possibility. It was fortunate he had not cracked the hatch immediately, Seven thought. He could have killed them all.

“Seven?”

She resisted the urge to sigh. Sometimes her captain’s unfailing confidence in her abilities was less a compliment and more a burden. “I do not know,” she said honestly. “I dropped the tricorder in the last section during the gravity reversal and it was destroyed.” The scattered bits and pieces she found resting on the hatch had been beyond saving. “Is there no display on the manual controls?”

“Assuming such a reading can be trusted,” Sporn pointed out.

“We can’t stay here,” Janeway said in a practical tone.

Sporn and T’Prawn moved to the hatch controls, studying them intently. The display was unhelpfully dark and T’Prawn pried open the panel, revealing the circuitry beneath. Using a set of small, fine tools that she apparently was carrying in her gown, thus proving that she was indeed, an engineer, she probed at the various components, cross linking and soldering until the display finally lit up. It sputtered fretfully, but did offer the conditions in the outer corridor.

“Can we trust this?” Janeway demanded.

“It either works or doesn’t,” T’Prawn explained, “but it is unlikely to give false readings.”

Janeway nodded and glanced at Seven. “Open the hatch.”

Seven proceeded to do so, the rest standing back warily, but the readings had been correct. Pressure was maintained, though the air was dense with haze comprised of smoke and the arid smell of spilt coolant. Janeway frowned as she glanced around. “Why haven’t any of the engineers come out here?”

“Undoubtedly because of that,” Seven said, pointing at the far end of the corridor. It was blocked by a mass of twisted beams, collapsed paneling and dangling wires. As the group approached it, Seven keenly assessed the practicality of getting through it.

“What do we do now?” Nagle asked, his voice plaintive in the still air of the hall.

“Is there another way to the engine room?” Janeway offered him a consoling pat on the shoulder.

He shook his head. “Not that I know of. Should we go back?”

“Not until we’ve tried everything possible to get through,” Janeway told him firmly. “We need to get to the environmental controls, if nothing else.”

“How large an engineering team does a ship of this type carry?” Sporn asked.

“Not very large,” T’Prawn said. “Most of these vessels are highly automated, with only a few individuals needed to maintain rather than repair any systems. They’re usually traversing the safest areas in space, after all, and unlikely to run into trouble. It’s possible the whole engineering crew was killed in the incident.”

“Have we determined what exactly happened?” Sporn tentatively removed a broken panel and set it to the side.

“It appeared to be some kind of magnetic strand,” Seven said. “But my scans were inconclusive and my resources limited.” She lifted a beam out of the way and bent over to peer through the debris. “We may be able to get through here.”

“We’ll have to be careful about which of the debris is removed or the whole thing could come down,” T’Prawn offered as she indicated another bit of rubble for her husband to remove.

“Lead the way,” Janeway told her.

Seven waited until T’Prawn showed her what to move next and slowly, but steadily, she and Sporn worked their way though the mound of rubbish, clearing a path for Nagle and the captain to follow. At the end of the corridor, there was a large door, with signage indicating this was the engine room. The doors didn’t open at their approach and T’Prawn immediately went to the panel on the side to work on the controls. Finally, the doors opened with a groan of metal warped in the runners, spread apart a foot or so and stopped again, immune to any further manipulation by her.

Janeway squared her shoulders and Seven was too late to prevent her from slipping through the narrow opening. There was a brief silence and then from beyond the portal, a sharp intake of breath.

“Dear God!”

At Janeway’s exclamation, the young woman in the Starfleet uniform turned to look at her. “Captain,” she greeted politely. Red hair was pulled back in an austere bun and her neat and tidy appearance was a marked contrast to Janeway’s gown, which, thanks to the crawling through passages and tubes was decidedly the worst for wear.

“Ensign Tarn! What are you doing here?”

“Responding to the distress call. We arrived approximately twenty minutes ago.”

“Kathryn!” Seven and the rest had finally come through the door, gazing around at the Starfleet officers in bemusement.

Feeling suddenly ridiculous and absurdly let down, Janeway didn’t respond to her spouse. Instead, she moved to the side as another of Voyager’s crewmen rushed across the engine room to secure the board. In the far corner, two more officers treated the ship’s engineers who appeared to have minor injuries.

“Where is Captain Zar?”

“Up in the lounge with Captain Bingham, ma’am,” Tarn said, though she did not look away from her task this time.

“So we really didn’t have to go through all that?” Nagle’s tone was a combination of outrage and dismay.

“Apparently not,” Sporn responded logically. “However, we all volunteered.”

“I was drafted,” Nagle countered. He shot an accusing look at Janeway and went over to a step where he sat down.

Janeway felt the sting but didn’t show it. Instead, she wondered why Tarn did not look particularly surprised to see her. Something was going on here that she needed to know about. “Can you have Voyager transport me back to the lounge where Zar is?”

“Both of us,” Seven said firmly.

“Four of us,” Sporn added.

“I’ll stay here, if you don’t mind,” Nagle said, in the sort of tone that indicated he didn’t think anyone cared and it irritated him immensely.

“Of course, Captain,” Tarn said, tapping her communicator. “Tarn to Voyager. Four to beam to the lounge. Captain Janeway and her party, one Borg, two Vulcan.”

“Acknowledged.”

The four took up standard away mission position and dissolved in a pattern of sparkles. Just before transport, Janeway thought she saw Tarn and Sporn share a look, a brief exchange of glances, nothing more, but it was enough to make the hair rise on the back of her neck. Something was definitely going on. The sooner she could talk to Zar, the better.

Back in the lounge, it was much cooler and there was no longer the sense of desperation and fear permeating the atmosphere. The arrival of Starfleet had calmed everyone considerably, though there were still a few odd looks at the man in the captain’s uniform. Zar Tulek was a Cardassian/Bajoran hybrid, but he most resembled his father, one of the occupiers of Bajor and the people that had thrown the Federation into a costly and deadly war.

He turned at the sound of the transporter hum, a smile spreading across his face as he spied his former commanding officer. “Captain Janeway.”

“Tulek, it’s so good to see you again,” Janeway said as she hugged him warmly. “We’re fortunate Voyager was in the neighborhood.”

“Yes, well, you could say that,” Zar said as she drew back to look him in the face. His dark eyes were solemn and again, she felt that flutter of unease.

“What do you mean?”

“We were actually on our way to rendezvous with the Poseidon when we received the distress call.”

“Rendezvous?”

“Admiral Nechayev dispatched us. You have new orders.”

Janeway stopped and stared at him. “What? You’re here for me?”

“Not just us, Captain.” Zar nodded at T’Prawn who had come up to join them. “Lieutenant.”

“Captain. If you don’t mind, I’d like to return to Voyager.”

“Of course.”

Seven was frowning. “You are not off the Potemkin.”

T’Prawn returned her stare evenly. “No, I’m actually with Starfleet Intelligence. Admiral Nechayev assigned me to keep you and your spouse under surveillance.”

Janeway was beyond outrage. “We’re under surveillance? Why?”

“Apparently, the admiral was concerned when you decided to go off on vacation,” Zar said gently. “It’s very important that you be at the location required at the specific time, Captain.”

“And your husband?” Janeway felt a muscle jump in her jaw as she glared at T’Prawn.

“We are not husband and wife,” Sporn explained without apology. “But I am not with Starfleet Intelligence,”

Janeway held up a hand, feeling things spiral out of her control. “All right, everyone needs to slow down here.” She could feel the fury rising inside her and was aware of Seven moving to her side, ready to assist or defend as required. The warmth of her presence made it easier to keep her anger under wraps, hidden from everyone except perhaps, her attentive spouse.

Zar glanced around. “Honestly, Captain, I’ll brief you on the situation as soon as possible, but right now, we really need to finish up here. Other ships are on the way, but until they arrive, we’re all the Poseidon has.”

Despite her rage, Janeway couldn’t argue with that. The safety of the civilians had to take precedent over yet another example of what she suspected was Starfleet politics. “Understood.”

“I’m afraid the passengers can’t return to their cabins just yet. There’s too much damage. If you’d like, you and Seven could beam up to Voyager. The guest quarters have been prepared.” He glanced down her body, and her torn and ragged gown without changing expression. “It’ll give you both the opportunity to freshen up a bit.”

Janeway stared at him, aware she was being herded, but unable to come up with a good reason to defy him. She glanced at Seven who looked troubled, and then nodded stiffly. “Very well, Captain. Beam us over to Voyager.”

An ensign waited for them in the transporter room, escorting Janeway and Seven to deck three as if they didn’t know their way around. Fuming, Janeway didn’t notice that habit had carried her past the others who had paused by the guest quarters until she was forced to pull up short as the doors to the captain’s cabin failed to give way to her. Blinking, she looked over her shoulder at Seven, who tilted her head, lifting a sardonic eyebrow, and the ensign who looked down and away, looking tremendously uncomfortable at what must have seemed like a major presumption on Janeway’s part.

Setting her jaw, Janeway returned, remaining silent as the ensign showed them inside, indicated the location of the replicator and informed them that she would be available if they required anything further. There was an expression of relief on her face as she made her escape.

Once the ensign had left them alone, Janeway sank down into a nearby chair. Seven took a quick turn around, assessing their surroundings. “The space we used to expand our closet space has been reincorporated into the guest quarters.”

“I guess Zar doesn’t need as much space for his clothes as you do,” Janeway responded, trying for sarcasm and only managing to sound tired. She had tried to keep the weariness she was suddenly feeling from coloring her tone, but the sharp look Seven bestowed upon her made her realize she had failed.

Moving over to the footstool, Seven sat down facing Janeway and reached out for her hands, taking them into her own and squeezing lightly. “Talk to me, Kathryn.”

Janeway shook her head, not in negation but in dissatisfaction. “I don’t know what’s going on, darling and until I do, there’s nothing I can say.”

“No, and I appreciate that it frustrates you, but whatever the admiral has in mind for us, we will handle it. Your unease runs deeper than that.”

Janeway stared at her and despite everything, she could feel the corners of her mouth turn up in a grin. “I don’t think Nechayev is including you in any of this.”

“She should,” Seven said calmly. “She shall.”

“Yes, I suspect she will.” Janeway exhaled, feeling her shoulders slump. “I’m at a crossroads, my love. I know that you’ve been aware of it, that it’s been worrying you, and I thank you for your patience in letting me work it out in my own way and at my own pace.”

Seven lifted their hands so that she could kiss Janeway’s knuckles tenderly. “I want to help you, Kathryn, but in this instance, I do not believe my opinion is of value to you.”

Janeway felt a pang in her chest and her smile slipped. She straightened and leaned forward, catching Seven’s gaze with her own. “Your opinion is always…always…of value to me.”

Seven’s eyes darkened. “Yes, but not as much value as if I were also a starship captain.” Caught, Janeway could not respond to that because she knew it was true. Dipping her head, she allowed the point. Seven sighed softly. “You need to speak to your contemporaries regarding this issue, Kathryn.”

“It’s not easy finding an opportunity to speak with other starship captains,” Janeway said slowly, struck by Seven’s comment. She had not really considered consulting with other Starfleet captains, mostly because it felt like a sign of weakness. But not making the attempt was also a definite weakness, one she couldn’t afford. Whatever her final decision, it would not only impact her life for the foreseeable future, but also Seven’s. “I suppose I could see who’s in the vicinity.”

“Captain Zar is here.” At Janeway’s hesitation, Seven smiled. “You do not yet consider him a contemporary.”

Janeway lowered her eyes bashfully. “I know it’s irrational, but honestly, darling, he was my first officer only a year or so ago.”

”So it has to be a captain that has commanded as long or longer than you have,” Seven noted dispassionately. ”I shall contact Locutus.”

Janeway blinked. ”You most certainly will not, and you had better stop referring to him in that way. I don’t think Picard’s nearly as sanguine about his assimilation as you are.”

Seven seemed to consider that. ”Very well,” she allowed reluctantly. ”Will you contact him?”

”We didn’t part under the best circumstances at our last meeting,” Janeway reminded her.

”At Laren and B’Elanna’s wedding, prior to Millennium’s launch,” Seven recounted. ”Surely you do not still nurture a grudge regarding the matter of Section 31?” Janeway felt her lips tighten and Seven smiled faintly. ”And yet, you wonder why I believed you might still be angry with me regarding our recent dispute.”

”Fine, I tend to let certain things linger,” Janeway admitted ruefully. ”But you’re right, I need to access every resource before I make a final decision.”

”In the meantime, let me draw you a bath, and replicate some uniforms for us. We need to be prepared for whatever it is Captain Zar will tell us.”

”And if it’s for my ears and eyes only?”
”Then it is fortunate you do not consider Zar your contemporary, because I intend to be present at the briefing.”

Janeway laughed as Seven kissed her hands once more and then rose from the sofa, sweeping into the bathroom. Through the open door, Janeway could hear the water start in the tub and was glad that the guest facilities had been restored after Voyager’s return to the Federation. By the time she and Seven had finished appropriating it during their time on board, it had been reduced down to a single room serving as both living area and bedroom, and a bathroom containing only a basic sonic shower. But then, there hadn’t been the need to host many VIP’s in the Delta Quadrant as they searched for a way home. Back in the Federation, an Intrepid-class vessel was designed for courier and escort missions, often ferrying diplomats and political envoys from one planet to another. Janeway supposed this was just another one, the fact she was involved notwithstanding.

By the time she had completed her bath and dressed in the uniform Seven had replicated for her, she was feeling a little more in control of things. She distastefully disposed of the tattered remains of her dress and returned to the living room in time to see Seven offering Zar a cup of tea. Hesmiled winningly up at Seven, and then turned his brilliant smile on Janeway.

”I think that any orders I have regarding the confidentialty of this breifing simply won’t extend to my gracious hostess.”

Janeway swallowed back a smile and took a seat, accepting the cup and saucer that Seven presented her.  ”You could always try,” she said in a mild tone.

Zar glanced at Seven as she took a seat on the arm of the sofa beside Janeway, draping an arm across her shoulders in a way that was both comforting and possessive. ”I remember our last confrontation, Lieutenant. If I ordered you to leave, would I require the services of a physician?”

Seven regarded him blandly. ”Not at all, Captain. I will leave if that is what is required.”

Zar stared at her, smile turning into a frown, and Janeway suddenly laughed. ”She’d promptly find the nearest access panel, tap into the main computer and monitor everything that was said, anyway, Tulek. Don’t waste your time.”

”Very well, Captain.” Zar leaned forward and carefully set his teacup on the coffee table. ”I won’t waste yours, either. Three months ago, the Temporal Archives released a file to Starfleet Command. Your orders are to report to the Epsilon Six Starbase.”

”Epsilon Six? That orbits...oh, no.” Janeway slumped back in her seat and covered her eyes with the palms of her hands.  ”Not that. Anything but that.”

”Kathryn?” Seven’s eyes were worried as she glanced back and forth between Zar and Janeway. Janeway found it surprising that she didn’t know what they were about to face, considering how much information the Borg had assimilated from Starfleet officers over the years. But of course, there was the highest security priority surrounding the Epsilon Six base and what it studied, as well as what it protected. Janeway only knew about it because her father had served a short tour of duty there. She didn’t want anything to do with the place.

For it to be the reason her vacation was being cut short and her time with Seven abrieviated left a sour taste in her mouth that she knew would take a long time to remove.

”Kathryn?” Seven repeated.

”The Epsilon Six base orbits a planet that contains a unique and powerful artifact, discovered by Captain James T. Kirk over ninety years ago,” Zar explained, when Janeway seemed disinclined to elucidate. ”It calls itself the Guardian of Forever.”

”It’s a glorified time machine,” Janeway growled. ”Which is all I need. Another goddamned temporal excursion.”

Epilogue

Admiral Nechayev stood in front of the window overlooking San Francisco, eyes narrowed in the light streaming in from the outside sun, diluted as it was from the tinted plexiglass. She heard the hiss of the door behind her, knowing it had to be her adjunct.

”The latest?” she demanded.

”Voyager has rendezvoused with the Poseidon,” Michael said. ”Captain Janeway is on board and en route to the Epsilon Six base.” He paused. ”Lt. Hansen is with her.”

”Of course she is,” Nechayev said evenly, though inside, she fumed a little. Unless they were posted there, Starfleet Command didn’t like junior officers even knowing about Epsilon Six, let alone be granted access to any of its facilities. But protocol and Hansen were often at odds, particularly when it came to her spouse. ”It was too much to ask that she not be.”

”You can grant her special despensation to increase her security level in this instance.”

”Or I can just order her courtmartialed and thrown into the brig for the duration.”

”What would that do to Janeway?” Michael’s tone was delicate as he pointed out the falicy in Nechayev’s plan. ”It certainly wouldn’t encourage her to carry out her mission in a timely fashion.”

Nechayev let out a humourless bark of laughter. ”Time. That’s the problem, isn’t it?”

”Admiral, we've both read the reports on Janeway and Seven. Voyager did not make significant strides in returning to the Alpha Quadrant until Seven joined the crew. Janeway did not develop into the captain she is until she encountered Seven. Seven is the catalyst. Janeway is the reaction. Together, they are much stronger force than anything they do as individuals.”

”At least you and the damned Psyche department think so.”

”You may disagree, but the results speak for themselves.”

”Fine, issue the special despensation for Lt. Hansen to be granted the top level security clearance in this instance. But make sure it’s revoked as soon as the mission is over.”

”Janeway will carry out this mission successfully,” Michael said quietly, ”Despite what it might cost.”

”I’m sure she will, too. But if she doesn’t? How will we ever know? How do we know that she hasn’t already failed and this is the reality in which we now exist?” She bent her head, pinching the bridge of her nose between forefinger and thumb. ”Damn it, I hate temporal anomalies.”

”You’re not alone in that.”

She heaved a sigh. ”That will be all, Commander.”

”Aye, Admiral.”

Even after the door had closed behind him, Nechayev remained in front of the windows, staring blankly at the skyline before her. She was furious that one of hers would be subjected to orders that frankly, were beyond the scope of any reasonable demand, even in the most difficult of times.

But if Janeway didn’t do what was asked of her, everything Nechayev knew to be real and true would be undone. Including the Federation.

The End

This is the 20th and final installment of the Millennium Series

Dedicated to all those who have hung around this long. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Final Frontiers

G. L. Dartt

Epsilon Six was an obscure starbase orbiting an obscure world, or at least, Starfleet tried very hard to keep it that way.  Captain Janeway, currently on leave from her command of USS Millennium, stood on the bridge of USS Voyager, hands linked behind her back and a sour expression on her face as she stared at the base on the fore viewscreen. Beside her, Seven examined the gleaming silver structure dispassionately, and wondered what her spouse was thinking.

Technically, Seven shouldn’t have been there to wonder. She was vaguely surprised that she had not been left behind, forced to wait for her spouse back on the cruise ship, or even back on Earth. Epsilon Six maintained the highest security in the Federation, both for what it studied, and what it protected.

The Guardian of Forever.

Discovered by James T. Kirk over ninety years earlier, the large device was a gate to all things that were and all things that would be. In short, a time travel device that could allow someone to alter the present by going back into the past. Starfleet had wanted to destroy it immediately, of course, but it defied their best efforts. So they did the next best thing, which was to build a heavily armed starbase boasting the latest in temporal shielding to orbit the planet it was on, restrict the area of space around it, and study it closely in hopes of understanding its secrets. Once in a while, the Guardian would spit out a bit of information in a ponderous voice, whereupon the scientists would dutifully record it and send it to the Temporal Archives at Starfleet Command. One such file was recently released, instructing Janeway to present herself to the Guardian on this stardate.

Janeway, who absolutely abhorred temporal situations of all kinds, was less than pleased to receive the orders and had displayed that disgust in a shortened temper and irritable manner ever since Voyager had picked up the couple. At this point, Seven just wanted the whole thing to be over so they could resume their interrupted vacation.

Sitting in the captain’s chair, Zar Tulek glanced back over his shoulder at the two women, his craggy features inquisitive. “Shall I contact Commander Sporn?”

Janeway’s lips tightened and Seven hunched her shoulders in anticipation of an acerbic comment. That was another thorn in the starship captain’s side. The young man who had been on the cruise with them was apparently with the Starfleet Temporal Unit, going along to make sure nothing happened to Janeway that would prevent this crucial appointment. Seven wasn’t sure why Starfleet Command hadn’t simply contacted Janeway on Earth and escorted her to the Epsilon Six starbase. On the other hand, its greatest protection lay in being unseen, rather like Section 31, not drawing attention to itself or where its interest lay, which putting a lot of security on one of their premier captains would do. In retrospect, perhaps it was surprising they put as many agents around her as they did.

“Might as well,” Janeway said ungraciously. She shot a look at Seven, saw the expression on her face, and softened, smiling wryly. “By all means, let’s get this show on the road. The sooner I do what I have to do, the sooner we’ll be on our way to Risa and the beach.”

“Indeed,” Seven said, a touch dryly.

At the tone, Janeway looked even more sheepish and even mustered up a bit of a polite nod to Sporn after he arrived on the bridge. Of course, being Vulcan, he was completely oblivious to her frosty manner or her attempt to be conciliatory toward him. Or if he did take note, he would find it illogical and not worthy of comment. Seven found that slightly amusing.

“Captain, we’re being hailed,” Tarn offered from her operations console. She paused, listening intently. “We’re being instructed to beam Captain Janeway and Commander Sporn over to the Epsilon Six base.”

“And Lt. Hansen,” Seven interjected calmly.

Tarn hesitated, glanced at Zar who nodded briefly, and conveyed the alteration in plans. Another pause, and she looked up uncomfortably. “They repeat their instructions.”

Janeway smiled. “Inform them that unless my spouse is along, I'm not beaming anywhere. I fully accept the consequences of that decision.”

Taking away the only threat they had to force Janeway into complying with their wishes…court-martial proceedings…made for a longer pause. Finally, Tarn lifted her head. “They say you’re clear to beam over the three individuals in question.”

“Captain, you tend to the insubordinate,” Sporn said, without any emotional overtone, merely stating a fact.

Janeway glanced at him with a raised eyebrow, a small smile quirking the corner of her mouth. “There are certain times, Commander, where an officer just has to refuse to be pushed around. Otherwise, they’re not much of an officer.”

“As you say, Captain.”

Zar stood up. “Good luck, Kathryn.”

“Let’s hope I won’t need it.”

Seven accompanied Janeway and Sporn to the transporter room where a young blonde woman manned the console. Without speaking, they beamed over to the station. One was not supposed to notice time passing in a transport, but Seven was able to detect a perceptible delay between the time they left Voyager and the time they reappeared in the sterile confines of the station transporter room. Undoubtedly a security measure of some sort, and further security was present in the form of two burly security officers armed with phaser rifles that were immediately aimed at the trio.

Janeway shot an annoyed look at Sporn. “You are making it extremely difficult for me to be compliant in this foolishness. I’m here voluntarily, but I chose to cooperate. That can change.”

Sporn lifted a brow, but he motioned to the officers who lowered their weapons and took a step back against the bulkheads, straightening to attention. “My apologies, Captain, but the security measures this facility requires cannot be overstated. The Guardian is possibly the most dangerous device in existence.”

“Precisely why I don’t want to be here,” Janeway reminded him.

Seven scanned their surroundings with all her senses as they left the transporter room. She had not been allowed any tricorders and even their communicators had been keyed to incoming calls only. The corridor they were in seemed innocuous, bare of ornamentation or décor, steel gray walls and slate blue carpet, but her cortical implant easily detected the wealth of sensors and weaponry that lay within the walls, ready to rain annihilation down on any unfortunate deemed expendable. Outside the base, surrounding the planet, she knew thousands of heavily armed, completely automated satellites patrolled space in all directions, preventing approach by even a cloaked ship.

She moved closer to Janeway, though should anything occur, it was unlikely she would have time to even blink, let alone make an attempt to save her. Janeway detected her nervousness and took a second to reach out with her hand, putting it on her shoulder briefly in encouragement before increasing her step to keep pace with Sporn.

They entered a large, expansive room, this one filled with monitors and white-coated officers manning various consoles. Seven noted the data scrolling over the screens, absorbing the information so quickly that it appeared to be no more than a casual glance on her part. Apparently, they were studying all the various temporal anomalies that had occurred within the Alpha Quadrant, and keeping an eye on any new ones that may occur. One monitor was displaying the ancient Forever World they orbited, the focus of all the galaxy’s timelines, while another screen was tuned to the surface where in the middle of a gigantic, ruined city dated over a million years old, the Guardian waited.

It looked vaguely like a misshapen bagel or donut, sitting in the middle of a sand-swept plaza. In the 21st Century, a great deal of social upheaval had fragmented Earth’s knowledge of their history prior to establishing the Federation. The Guardian had put Humans back in touch with all the events that had happened prior to the Eugenic Wars, triggered by the actions of the genetically engineered Khan Noonien Singh, not to mention the chaotic period surrounding Sefram Cochrane's first warpdrive flight. Historians allowed access to the Guardian were able to fill the Federation databanks with information, and it was considered an invaluable research tool among those who studied such things..

Seven stared at the image a few seconds longer and then turned her attention to Sporn and Janeway who were speaking to another individual, a snowy-haired woman with deep wrinkles around her pale blue eyes. She was small and somewhat stout, while her expression was kindly. Still, Seven found it difficult to trust anything about this place.

“Dr. Grey is in charge of this facility," Sporn told Janeway. "Her mother was one of the first Federation scientists to study the Guardian extensively, visiting the Forever World several years ago with Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock.”

“As you can imagine, we’re quite excited about this unprecedented event,” she said, beaming at Janeway. “It’s very rare that the Guardian would mention any specific incident, let alone pick out an individual within it. Individuals are usually insignificant.”

Rather what the Borg believed, Seven noted dispassionately.

“You’ll forgive me if I’m less thrilled than you,” Janeway said coolly. “I hate temporal mechanics. The past is the future, the future is the past, it gives me a headache.” She frowned, eyeing her beadily. “In any event, what are the details of this situation? Why me and why at this time?”

“That’s the wonderful thing. We don’t exactly know. We only know that twenty years ago, the Guardian spoke without being asked a question or being prompted in any way. It told us that a temporal incursion had occurred. When we asked further questions, we were able to determine that you were the cause. You had performed an action that forever altered the timeline. We need you to do that now to maintain the integrity of the temporal stream.”

“The Guardian told you I did this?” Janeway was clearly skeptical. "Why? What possible reason would I have?"

"We don't know, only that it happened and that now is the time it must be done."

Seven saw the muscle jump in Janeway’s jaw and knew she was holding back a curse with the greatest of effort. It did sound somewhat haphazard. It happened therefore it must be made to happen.

“Why bring me here at all?” Janeway demanded, almost as if she were reading Seven’s mind. “If it’s already happened, shouldn’t it just happen on its own?”

“If the Guardian took note of it twenty years ago, we believe that it has to be involved in some way. We don’t know how or why, only that we can’t prevent it. The best we can do is to be on hand to control the conditions and study it when it does.”

Janeway seemed about to say something else, hesitated, and then shook her head fretfully, as if trying to shake off an ache. “Fine, what do I have to do?”

“Commander Sporn will escort you down to the planet and fill you in on the particulars there.”

“I will be accompanying them,” Seven said.

Grey looked at her, an expression of surprise on her face, and Seven didn’t think the scientist had noticed her until then. Her eyes took in the implants on her face, the clear indication of Borg technology, and began to frown. “I don’t think---“ she began.

“If Seven doesn’t come with me, I’m not going,” Janeway said in a bored tone, carefully calculated to indicate how unimportant she found all this and how willing she was to be contrary if the mood struck her.

Grey hesitated, glanced at Sporn who inclined his head slightly, and then nodded. Seven felt a fissure of alarm. Janeway was undoubtedly enjoying this opportunity to throw her weight around the Temporal Unit of Starfleet Command, but Seven realized how crucial they actually believed this to be. They were willing to go along with a multitude of security breaches because they dearly needed Janeway’s cooperation…far more than they would be satisfied with reprimanding her if she didn’t carry out her mission.

“But she cannot interact with the Guardian,” Grey insisted.

Seven lifted her cortical implant. “I have no desire to interact with this device. It is, as Sporn has mentioned, the most dangerous device in the universe. I am most displeased that my captain is forced to interact with it.”

Janeway smiled and put her hand on Seven’s forearm. “Come on, darling. Let’s get this done. The beach awaits.”

Seven followed her, not knowing what lay ahead but suspecting that she wouldn’t like it at all.

The surface of the planet was cool, almost cold, a gritty wind whipping their hair and clothing in a cloud of stinging particles. The Guardian lay ahead, looking a little smaller than Janeway had anticipated. Blinking away the sand, she studied the ancient, misshapen object, thinking it looked a lot like something out of Seven’s collection of artworks, ugly and not at all the sort of thing anyone wanted to be around for any length of time. The three of them moved closer and suddenly they were out of the wind. The pavement was bare here, as well, as if something kept it clear of debris.

“Interesting,” Seven said, peering down at the abrupt break in the pavement, the invisible line between being exposed to the elements outside and protected within this small plaza leading up to the Guardian.

Sporn put down the bag he was carrying, unsealed the fastening and drew out a white outfit. Janeway frowned as he handed it to her.

“What’s this?”

“Camouflage. We don’t believe anyone will be in the area, but it’s best that we take the proper precautions.”

Janeway looked it over, taking note of the color. Wherever she was going, it was either very sterile or very cold. She had a sinking feeling it was going to be the latter. She thought about protesting, but decided there wouldn’t be any point. This was coming down from the very top of Starfleet Command and despite her token show of resistance until now, she sincerely doubted she really had much choice in the matter. With another sigh, she started to pull it on. Once she had it sealed up the front and the hood pulled up over her hair, she turned to Sporn. "What do I have to do?"

Sporn handed her a device. "Go through the gate. Walk approximately fifty meters to a multiple rock formation. Bury the device in the snow. Return."

"That's it?" Janeway regarded the device uneasily. It was a silver cylinder, featureless but for a small control panel with two LED lights, one of which was glowing green. "What is it, a bomb?"

Lifting a brow, there might have been a glint of amusement in his dark eyes. "No, it is not an explosive device. It is not necessary that you know what it is. Only that you perform this mission."

She studied him for a long moment, drawing on her great familiarity with Vulcan facial features due to her long-term relationship with Tuvok. "You don't know what it is either, do you?" she accused finally, with a hint of triumph. "You haven't a clue why I have to do this or what will happen when I do."

Sporn did not flicker, but he did not deny it either. “We all have our orders, Captain. Some are more obscure than most. Nonetheless, we are expected to carry them out."

That wiped the smile from her face. “Yes, we are.” Janeway tucked the device in a handy pocket in her thermal suit. Despite her poking and prodding at the temporal officers just to see which way they’d jump, she knew that eventually, she’d have to do what they wanted because of her oath to Starfleet Command. But how she did it could mean a world of difference in how she felt about it afterward, and to that end, she was grateful she had managed to bring Seven along with her. Turning to her, she wrapped her arms around her waist and hugged her tightly.

“I won’t be long,” she said softly.

“Be safe, Kathryn,” Seven murmured in her ear, and then kissed her gently. Janeway kissed her back, wanting to stay in her embrace forever. Finally, she released her hold, reluctantly drawing away and feeling as if she was being torn from someplace safe and secure to be cast out to an unfeeling universe.

Stiffening her spine, Janeway strode purposefully toward the Guardian. When she was within ten feet, it began to hum, lights appearing inside the thick skin, as if it glowed from within. In the center, which had been empty before, allowing her to look through it to the ruined city beyond, a swirling fog of sparkling gray and indistinct images appeared. Startled, she stopped and peered anxiously at it.

“Uh, hello?”

Not a machine or a being, Janeway remembered from her research on the way to the starbase, but somehow both, beyond the understanding of those scientists that struggled to uncover its secrets. Still, it apparently responded to queries.

"A question. Since before your sun burned hot in space, and before your race was born, I have awaited ... a question. Greetings.”

“Actually, that wasn’t the question,” Janeway said dryly, trying to cover her sudden sense of uncertainty and wonder. Its deep voice had reverberated through her on a primal level, seeming to shake every molecule. “Do you know who I am, why I am here and where I have to go?”

“I know. I know all. I am my own beginning, my own ending. You have been here before. You will be here again.”

“Not if I can help it,” she muttered under her breath.

The swirling images solidified, revealing a white plain where the horizon blended almost indistinguishably into a pale gray sky. Janeway’s blood suddenly ran cold, though she didn’t know why, only that a primeval fear was abruptly rising like a wave within her, so strong it was almost choking.

“Captain, you must enter.”

“Kathryn, are you all right?”

Distantly, she heard the voices behind her and wondered how long she had been standing there swaying, overwhelmed by an irrational and soul shivering terror. With a great effort of will, she shook herself, reining in her wayward emotions.

“Kathryn, do you require assistance?” Seven asked, her voice becoming more urgent. She was only a few seconds away from imposing her presence on the situation, Janeway knew.

Without looking back, Janeway lifted her hand, waving at Seven and indicating she was all right. She wasn’t, but there was still a job to do and it wasn’t getting done with her standing there dithering over it.

She took a step forward and while it was one of the hardest steps she had ever had to take, though she had no idea why, she managed it. Then another step, and another, until she was finally stepping through the portal into what lay beyond. A blast of bitter cold struck her as she was abruptly standing on that snowy vista, stinging the flesh on her face and hands. Ice stretched off in all directions except several kilometers to the north, where a line of snowy, dark cliffs provided a contrast to the unending white. Grotesque shapes, ice sculptures crafted by the wind, testified to the irregularity of the ground. Glancing behind her, she saw a shimmering ripple of nothingness that indicated where the portal remained, held open by the Guardian and providing a gateway to the future. Indistinctly, she could still see the two figures of Sporn and Seven in the dusty plaza, waiting for her. Instead of plunging back through the gate, which is what she truly wanted to do, she turned, took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and moved forward.

The snow squeaked beneath her feet as she walked toward a prominent, cluster of rocks that formed an outcropping approximately fifty meters ahead, knowing this had to be the landmark Sporn had indicated. With every step, the unreasoning fear grew stronger until she could actually taste bile at the back of her throat. She stopped, frantically searching for some kind of familiar view, something that would tell her why she felt as if she had been here before, but nothing showed itself. It was empty and for all she knew, could be somewhere on Earth, or somewhere lightyears away in another quadrant. Could she have really changed history here? Was that why it felt so familiar? Why didn’t she remember that? Had it even happened yet?

God, she hated temporal mechanics.

She felt dizzy and for a moment, she had to bend over. She had eaten lightly that morning, but what little she had was fighting its way to the surface. It hovered on the edge, then finally, the nausea retreated and she swallowed hard. Breathing deeply, each breath a razor edge of cold and damp, she resumed her journey toward the outcropping.

She had only gone about twenty feet when she made a misstep, turning her foot and dropping face down into the snow. Cursing, suddenly and tremendously angry with herself that she couldn’t manage to carry out the simplest of missions without turning it into a huge drama, she rolled over, wincing from the twinge in her ankle. It was the cruise ship all over again, she thought darkly. All she had to do was wait in the lounge with the rest of the passengers and await rescue, which had eventually come in the form of Voyager. Instead, surrendering her impatience and sense of helplessness at doing nothing…at having no control over the situation…she drafted a few others to go crawling about in the bowels of the ship in some misguided attempt at a rescue. Well, her father had said that she always had to take the rocky road, that she wasn’t happy unless the path was difficult. It wasn’t worth taking otherwise. Clearly, he had been right.

But she was getting damned tired of that particular character trait and vowed that from now on, she’d at least try to take the other path. She’d made life far too difficult for herself, and for Seven, who was an integral part of that life. It was time to start taking things easy.

Gingerly, she scrambled to her hands and knees, wiping the snow away from her face, and shaking it off her hands. Rising to her feet, she tested her ankle, determining that it would hold but would remain sore until she could make a visit to the nearest sickbay. She checked her pocket, drawing out the device to look it over. The light on the LED was now glowing red, and she made a face of consternation, sneaking a glance back to see if Sporn was watching this. Shielding it with her body, she tapped the panel a couple of times, and when that didn’t work, shook it violently back and forth. She felt a distinct sense of relief when the light finally switched back to green.

Limping slightly, she started once more for the rock, now feeling as if time was slipping away from her, that she had to hurry, though she had no idea why. This area seemed timeless, a desolate, empty world without any hint of life. The wind was a steady rush in her ears and she was grateful for the thermal outfit that not only provided camouflage, but kept her warm as well.

Finally she reached the jutting collection of rocks, looking even odder up close than they had from a distance. A thick vein of lighter brown ran through the darker color, mixed with various other shades, indicating that there had been a severe geological upheaval at some time. She knelt on the leeward side of the outcropping, setting aside the device for a moment to free her hands to dig into the snow. As she dug, the sense of danger grew ever more pressing and she kept lifting her head, searching the horizon anxiously, not know what she was looking for, only that she felt an oppressive sense of imminent disaster.

It made no sense, but then, little of this mission made sense, which was part of why she hated temporal incursions so much. She wondered why she kept finding herself in the middle of them, from the leap back into the 20th Century where she had to stop a computer geek from destroying Earth by indiscriminant use of 29th Century technology to make his fortune, to Seven trying to stop Captain Braxton from destroying Voyager. Then there was the recent temporal loop where she and Seven found themselves back on Voyager for no other reason, it seemed, than to patch up the rift in their relationship. It was insane. Yet she seemed to attract them, like flies to honey.

She wished she could find some kind of temporal repellent that would ward them off forever.

Placing the device carefully at the bottom of the depression she had hollowed out, she began to brush snow back over it, hiding it from view. As she stood up, she could see that the wind would eventually wipe away any hint she had been there. Her tracks from the portal, a path that was alarmingly crooked, staggering this way and that, were already filling in, disappearing into the drifts of snow.

Still feeling an impending sense of dread and dismay, she stumbled back to the coordinates where the gateway waited. Plunging through the shimmering wall to the dry, dusty plaza beyond, she felt the terror leave her as if it had never been, and she wondered if she’d ever figure out the cause.

Mindful of Dr. Grey’s warning, Seven did not attempt any conversation with the Guardian, and Sporn seemed disinclined, as was natural for his species, to engage in small talk. Instead, he spent the time wandering about the nearby ruins, taking readings on his tricorder. Left to her own devices, she found the shattered remains of a pillar, similar to the architecture of ancient Greece, on which to sit. Resting her chin on her palm, she stared at the portal showing a hazy image of the world beyond, a white vista of snow and ice. Utilizing her ocular implant, she could barely make out a tiny speck in the distance, knowing it to be the figure of her spouse stumbling about in the snow.

Janeway would hate that, Seven knew. She hated cold and ice, preferring balmy temperatures and a tropical seascape, or at the very least, the warm and carefully controlled environment of a starship. Seven stood up abruptly when she saw the tiny figure fall into the snow, watching anxiously, and then finally relaxed again when she saw Janeway get up again and stumble on. It was nerve-racking standing by helplessly, limited to being only a spectator and not a participant. Uneasily, she sat down once more, her eyes glued to the hazy image.

Finally, the figure began the trip back, and Seven again rose to her feet, waiting apprehensively until Janeway finally stepped through the portal. Instantly, the image shifted, faded and disappeared behind her.

"Time has resumed its shape; all is as it was before. Many such journeys are possible. Let me be your gateway," the Guardian intoned.

“Thanks, once was enough,” Janeway threw acerbically over her shoulder. Her face altered when she saw Seven and she quickened her pace, stepping gratefully into her arms. Seven thought she detected a hint of strain around her eyes and hugged her tightly. Nearby, Sporn abandoned his scans of the ruined city and returned to the plaza.

“Did you bury the device?” His tone held the slightest hint of urgency.

“Consider it done. Can we get out of here now?”

“Of course.” He tapped his communicator. “Epsilon Six, three to beam up.”

Back on the starbase, Janeway stripped off the white suit, discarding it distastefully into a nearby replicator. Seven frowned as she looked at Janeway's uniform collar. "Kathryn, you are missing a pip."

Janeway blinked and reached up, fingering her collar and the three pips that remained. "So I have. I must have lost it when I fell down. It doesn’t matter. I'm sure as hell not going back down to look for it." Still irritable, she looked at Sporn. “Are we done here?”

“The mission is complete,” he said, lacking any offense at her tone. “According to Dr. Gray, the timeline is settling into its predicted pathway.”

“Wonderful. I trust I won’t have to see you again.”

“Actually, Captain, I’m required back in the Temporal Archives on Earth. I’ll be accompanying you on Voyager.”

“Well, at least until Risa.” She tapped her communicator, allowed to transmit now that her mission was complete. "Voyager, Janeway here. Three to beam over."

"Aye, Commander."

Seven lifted a brow at the address though Janeway didn't seem to notice, perhaps because she was still agitated from her temporal excursion. Seven was determined to get the details of what had happened as soon as possible. Janeway seemed inordinately disturbed for what had appeared to be a fairly straightforward mission. In Voyager's transporter room, the ensign manning the transporter console was not the same one who had initially beamed them over to the base, a young man with Bajoran features.

“Commander, the captain would like to see you on the bridge.”

“That’s fine because I’d like to see him.” Again, Janeway did not seem to notice the incorrect address. Frowning, Seven followed Janeway and Sporn out of the transporter room and down the corridor to the turbolift.

When they stepped out onto the bridge, Seven’s nebulous worries instantly crystallized into dismay. A complete stranger stood up from the captain’s chair, a tall man with a solid build and dark tousled hair topping a ruggedly handsome face with deep blue eyes. “Kathryn, how did it go on the planet?”

Janeway had stopped dead, an expression of complete shock on her face, the blood draining from it as if she had sustained a deep, life-sucking wound. Beyond the strange captain, an older man stood up from the first officer’s chair, wearing the insignia of the admiralty on his collar. With a thrill of complete horror, Seven did recognize him, mostly from images she had seen in Janeway’s possession. But he shouldn’t be standing on the bridge of Voyager. He had died twenty years earlier, drowned beneath the polar cap of a distant planet while testing a new fighter called the Terra Nova.

And if Admiral Edward Janeway had somehow survived the terrible accident that had taken his life on Tau Ceti Prime, that meant…

“Justin?” Janeway’s voice was a croak, a mere parody of her normally strong husky tone. “Daddy?”

Seven looked back at the captain, a sick sensation filling her chest. Justin Tighe. He had been Janeway’s fiancé, the man she was going to marry, the love of her life who had perished along with her worshipped father in the freezing water. That tragedy had profoundly shaped the woman Janeway had become. Who would she be now? Seven wondered.

Then Janeway swayed unsteadily and instantly Seven was at her side, catching her as she fell. Apparently the sight of her beloved dead brought back to life overwhelmed her, the shock simply too much even for her formidable composure. The burden of guilt she had carried all those years that she had somehow been responsible for their deaths and now, possibly for their resurrection, undoubtedly contributed to her collapse.

“Kathryn, what’s wrong?” Justin stepped forward, frowning at Seven in puzzlement. Clearly he didn’t know who she was.

“She has fainted,” Sporn noted calmly. He hesitated. “Perhaps a delayed reaction to the mission, but I can assure you there will be no lasting effects.” Seven could tell he was treading carefully, watching what he said.

Admiral Janeway frowned at him. “Who are you? Are you two from Epsilon Six?”

“Yes, Lt. Hansen and I beamed over to monitor the timeline outside the temporal zone,” Sporn said. “We had to confirm that Cap---Commander Janeway’s mission was completely successful.”

“Of course.”

Seven, gripping the slumped Janeway, offered them all a quelling look. “I need to take Kathryn to sickbay,” she snapped, and swept Janeway up in her arms. Striding purposefully to the turbolift, she didn’t look back, not caring how Sporn smoothed over their presence on board this vessel. Her only concern was the woman in her arms and how soon she would recover. Seven carefully did not think of what was going to happen beyond that. Already things were terribly wrong and she suspected they would only get worse from this point. But she was certain that as long as she and Kathryn were together, they would find a way through it.

In sickbay, she carried Janeway to the first open biobed, and looked around. From the doctor’s office came a woman she didn’t recognize. It wasn’t Alexis Spencer, who was currently chief medical officer on Zar’s Voyager, nor the Emergency Medical Hologram she had known so well. It wasn’t even Dr. Kate Pulaski, Millennium’s doctor. Instead, this was a stranger, a Trill with the fathomless gaze that indicated she was joined. Her hair was long and dark, pulled back in a ponytail, while a line of spots ran up the side of her attractive features.

“What’s happened to our first officer this time?” Her tone was a mix of amusement and exasperation. She glanced once at Seven, realized she didn’t know her, but didn’t pause in her ministrations, pulling out a medical tricorder with its accompanying scanner that she ran over Janeway, peering intently at the resulting readings scrolling past her screen. “Hmm, there’s no sign of injury or disease.”

“She fainted.”

The doctor blinked. “Fainted? Commander Kathryn Tighe fainted? That’s hard to believe. She’s tough as nails. She’s never fainted in her life!”

“Nonetheless, that is what happened, Doctor…?”

“Dax. Jadzia Dax.” She glanced at her, a thin eyebrow rising. “You’re from the Epsilon Six base?”

Seven hesitated. “Yes.”

“Well, trust me when I tell you this is very unusual behavior. Wait outside, please until I complete my diagnostic.”

Seven opened her mouth, about to refuse, and then reconsidered it, realizing that she had to be careful, even if she didn’t like it much. Reluctantly, she left sickbay, glancing back one last time at Kathryn’s still face.

Outside in the corridor, she felt herself start to shake and her cortical node immediately released a flood of nanoprobes into her system to stabilize the physcical reactions to her wayward emotions. She glanced up as the turbolift opened and Sporn, accompanied by Justin and Edward appeared.

“Lt. Hansen, what's happening? Is Kathryn all right?” Justin’s tone was brusque and presumptuous, filled with concern for his…wife? Dax had called her ‘Kathryn Tighe’. Seven, who had started to bristle at his tone, immediately felt sick and helpless.

“The Doctor requested I leave,” she managed to reply with a coolness she was far from expeiencing. She glanced away from Justin, finding it difficult to look at him for very long and focused her attention on Sporn. “Sir, I feel we should brief the cap---commander immediately after her return to consciousness. There are temporal security issues at stake.”

Sporn lifted a brow and nodded slowly. “That’s probably wise, Lieutenant.” He turned to Captain Tighe. “We need to speak with her privately, finish up a few details. There may be certain protocols that need to be clarified.”

Justin frowned. “Is that really necessary?”

Admiral Janeway stepped forward, putting a hand on his shoulder. “It probably is, son,” he said, his voice kind but firm. “Trust me when I tell you that security is at a premium whenever we’re dealing with Epsilon Six. Whatever Katie did for them, we’re not cleared to know and we may never be cleared to know.”

“It should only take a few minutes, Captain,” Sporn added delicately.

Justin didn’t like it, Seven could see that, but he nodded grudgingly. “Very well.”

Sporn exchanged a look with Seven and together, they entered sickbay. Dax looked up at their arrival, a frown twisting her comely features. “What the hell did you do to her over there? She had a sprained ankle, but I repaired that. Otherwise, she should be awake by now.”

“Doctor?”

“I don’t know why, but she’s resisting the stimulant,” Dr. Dax said. “It’s as if she’s refusing to regain consciousness.”

Seven recognized this. A great shock, particularly of this nature, sent Janeway deep into despair, and made her seek out sleep with a determined desperation. It was her refuge, her solace, but not one that she had required in years. Nudging Dax aside, she leaned over Janeway, placing her lips next to her ear.

“Kathryn, please wake up. I need you,” she whispered so that only Janeway could hear.

Immediately, there was brief flutter of eyelids, a small moan, and then Dax was shoving Seven to the end of the biobed, out of the way. There, Seven felt Sporn grip her arm and shocked at the Vulcan who, as a species, normally avoided personal touch due to their psychic abilities, she stared wildly at him. Immediately, he dropped his hand, looking the faintest bit disconcerted.

“Lieutenant, I’m not entirely sure what’s happened, but until we can determine if this is indeed, the outcome that was intended, the temporal Prime Directive is fully in effect. We must maintain it for the duration.”

"How long will that duration last?"

"Until Voyager leaves. Then it will take care of itself."

Seven caught her breath, knowing what that meant, but all she said was, “I understand.”

Though she wished with every fiber of her being that she didn’t.

Janeway groaned, feeling her head throb. Dimly, she was aware of Sporn talking to Seven, the words coming as if from very far away. "The temporal Prime Directive is fully in effect. We must maintain it for the duration."

"How long will that duration last?" Seven's tone was sharp, demanding, filled with an underlying fear that Janeway recognized though she didn’t know the cause.

"Until Voyager breaks orbit. Then it will take care of itself."

Janeway opened her eyes, blearily looking at Seven and Sporn who were standing face to face at the foot of the sickbay biobed. Next to her, an attractive Trill dressed in a white coat scanned her with a medical tricorder, peering intently at the readings.

Janeway desperately tried to catch up, not quite sure what had happened or how she had ended up sickbay. Seven's face was set in an expression that she was all too familiar with. Whatever she was hearing, she didn't like it at all, but all she said was: "I understand."

Janeway tried to say something to attract their attention, and was surprised when it came out in an inarticulate croak. Immediately, both Seven and Sporn turned to her.

The Trill shook her head. “Kathryn, I’m not sure what’s going on here, but I bet I don’t want to know, considering it involves temporal mechanics and that damned Guardian. These Epsilon Six officers need to speak with you. I’ll be in my office.”

She immediately turned and strode rapidly into the doctor’s office, sealing the door firmly behind her. Bemused, but fully in accord with the young woman’s comment, Janeway frowned at her spouse. “Seven?”

"Kathryn."

Sporn interrupted their reunion, speaking quietly but urgently. "Cap---Commander, we only have a moment before the captain and admiral insist on seeing you. You are in full Temporal Prime Directive mode. Do you understand?"

She pursed her lips, not liking it anymore than Seven apparently had, but not seeing as she had any choice. "Fine." She hesitated and reached up, feeling the three pips on her collar. "Commander?"

"In this timeline, you are the chief science officer and exec to Captain Justin Tighe." He hesitated. “Apparently he is also your husband.”

"Dear God. Then, he and daddy..."

"They did not die in this timeline," Seven said in an oddly distant tone. "Obviously, you were able to transport them to safety."

"So what I did on that planet somehow prevented them from dying?" Janeway marveled, feeling so many conflicted emotions that it was difficult to keep any of them under control. Was that why the planet had looked so familiar? Had that been Tau Ceti Prime? She hadn’t recognized it without the debris of a crashed Terra Nova scattered all over it. She glanced at Seven, seeing the coldness in her eyes and realizing why she was so upset. "Darling---" she began.

"Kathryn!"

The door hissed open to herald the arrival of Justin and Edward. Janeway closed her mouth with a snap and rose to a sitting position in time to be swept up in a strong hug by Justin. "God, I was so worried about you."

"I'm all right," she said, feeling breathless as he squeezed her. Over his shoulder, her eyes feasted on the sight of her father, so much older than she remembered, thinning gray hair even thinner, his kind features more wrinkled and craggy but undeniably his. He was smiling, reaching out to pat her hand where it rested on Justin's back.

He looked over at Sporn and Seven who had stepped back to allow the family reunion. "Has she recovered?"

"Yes, Admiral," Sporn said smoothly. "But Lt. Hansen and I will monitor the situation until Voyager breaks orbit."

“You’re sure there’s no lasting symptoms?” Justin demanded as he released her, straightening to regard him anxiously.

“There shouldn’t be.”

Edward cleared his throat and returned his focus on his daughter. “In the meantime, there's someone else here who wants to see you."
He stepped aside and a small form who had been hidden by his bulk suddenly appeared. Head topped with deep auburn hair framing big bluish gray eyes, the little boy came forward hesitantly. His features, an unmistakable mix of Janeway and Tighe, were screwed up in a combination of unease and dismay. "Mommy, are you all right?"

Wide-eyed, Janeway shot a look at Seven who looked back at her, equally wide-eyed. "I'm fine." Somehow, she managed to make her tone comforting, indicating none of the astonishment and consternation seeping through her, threatening to send her spiraling into unconsciousness once more. Honestly, she didn't consider herself to be the frail sort, but the shocks just kept hitting her, one after another. She forced a smile. "You weren't really worried about me, were you?"
He looked at her keenly for a moment, then his face abruptly relaxed and she could see the open, friendliness accompanied by more than a hint of mischief, that was undoubtedly his normal expression. "Naww, I knew you'd be all right." Abruptly, he threw his arms around her neck, gave her a quick and somewhat sloppy kiss on her cheek and then headed for the door. "I gotta get back to the holodeck," he threw over his shoulder. "We're having a class trip. I’ll see you later"

The sickbay seemed to echo with emptiness after the door hissed shut behind him, despite the fact there were five people crowded into a small area. Six now that Dax chose that moment to rejoin them.

“So what happens now?” Dax asked in a practical tone.

There was a brief silence as everyone looked at Sporn and Seven, Janeway because she was terribly worried for her spouse, and the rest because they were waiting on the Epsilon Six base to give them clearance to leave.

“If possible, we would like you to remain in orbit another day,” Sporn said smoothly. Only Janeway and Seven recognized that he was making it up as he went along, trying to buy some time.

“I can’t promise anything if new orders come down from Starfleet Command,” Justin responded in a warning tone. “We were on our way to Vargus Prime when your request for my first officer’s presence diverted us here. We still need to get those medical supplies to the colony.”

“I understand, and we’ll send you on your way as soon as we’re certain everything is as it should be.”

Justin looked back and forth between them, his eyes lingering on Seven briefly, clearly taking in the Borg implants but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he nodded. “Fine. You’ll have complete access to our science department’s database. In the meantime, you can work out of our guest quarters.” He tapped his communicator. “Can I have someone sent to sickbay to escort our guests to deck three.”

Seven looked as if she wanted to protest, glancing once at Janeway, but then her lips thinned and she remained silent. Janeway wanted to protest as well, but she didn’t know what to say. Though she tried. “Are you sure you’re through briefing me?”

Sporn’s dark eyebrow lifted. “We will need to speak further, Commander, but for now, Lt. Hansen and I must go over our report to Epsilon Six.”

An ensign appeared in the doorway and with a backward look from Seven over her shoulder, the pair were escorted out of sickbay. Janeway slipped her legs over the side of the biobed, sitting up. She managed not to jump as Justin put a hand on the small of her back.

“Careful, Katie, take your time.”

She shot a glance at him, wondering at the use of a nickname that only her family had ever used. She wasn’t sure she liked hearing it from him. “I’m fine,” she said shortly, though she managed not to shrug him off.

“Nonetheless, consider yourself off duty for the rest of the day,” he said, ignoring the tone. “Go back to our quarters, get some rest.”

It sounded like an order and Janeway didn’t take orders very well from other captains. Of course, in this instance, he was the only captain present. That would definitely take some getting used to. Then she paused, horrified at the thought. Was she supposed to get used to this? Suddenly, retreating to the captain’s quarters didn’t seem like such a bad idea.

“All right.” She rose to her feet and regarded her father. “Daddy, I hope I get a chance to speak with you later.”

He looked mildly surprised. “Of course. I’ll stop by this evening.”

Feeling more than a little lost, Janeway left sickbay and headed for her quarters … their quarters. She frowned as she entered the cabin, looking around in an evaluation of this other life she had supposedly led. The decor was bland, lacking much in personality other than the images put up on the bulkheads and scattered over the various surfaces. There was a large one of her and Justin, with her looking very young in a wedding dress she couldn’t imagine ever wearing, a few of her and her father, and several of the little boy in sickbay. There were none of Phoebe or Gretchen and Janeway wondered why. Wandering around the quarters, she discovered the messy confines of what could only be the boy's bedroom behind one of the doors.

A son. She and Justin had a son. It boggled the mind. Aimlessly, she picked up a few of the clothes discarded on the deck, glanced around uncertainly, and finally put them up on a nightstand. It did not make the room look any neater. Perhaps she should let Seven loose on it.

The thought brought a bittersweet smile. This was going to be a mess in more ways than one, she realized. Aching inside, she wandered back out into the main living area. Across it was another door, undoubtedly her and Justin’s bedroom. She felt a decided twinge at that. She’d just have to deal with it when the time came, she decided uneasily.

The door hissed open, startling her, and she whirled to witness the entrance of a little ball of energy. He threw a padd on the nearby sofa and made a beeline for his bedroom. A moment later, he came out, clutching some small items that looked like figurines of some kind.

Janeway, frozen in the center of the room, regarded him uncertainly as he plopped down on the deck next to the sofa and started manipulating the figures in completely baffling ways. He seemed to be ignoring her until it finally occurred to him that perhaps his mother should not be standing there staring at him with a bemused expression on her face.

“Uh, Mom?”

“How was school?” she managed.

“Good.” He paused, his little brows drawn together, a frown on his face. He looked a lot like his father when he did that, she realized. “What’s for dinner?”

“What would you like?” she asked cautiously. Somehow, her specialty of Orion finger foods didn’t seem appropriate in this case.

He brightened. “I can choose tonight?”

Clearly, that was a rare and special occasion, but if it helped her to come up with something for dinner, she was all for it. “Of course you can,” she said with more confidence. “What would you like?”

“Mac and cheese. And hot dogs.”

That was good. She could actually manage that particular program. In fact, she and her fellow cadets had pretty much lived on the simple dishes at the Academy while cramming for exams.

“Coming right up.”

“Aren’t you going to wait for Dad?”

She turned back from the replicator. “Of course.” She paused. “Around what time will he be arriving?”

He offered her an odd look. “After his duty shift. 1730 hours.”

The regular time, of course, she thought with a bit of a mental slap. She hesitated again, and then moved over to the chair, taking a seat next to the boy. She still didn’t know what to do next, but hopefully that wasn’t quite so apparent while she was sitting down

Seven turned on Sporn as soon as they entered the VIP quarters, the door barely hissing shut behind them. “We must do something.”

“We are doing something,” he said calmly, going over to the workstation. “We are evaluating the situation and determining our next course of action.”

It sounded suspiciously insufficient, but Seven merely shot him a glare and took her place at the other workstation, bringing up the ship’s database.

“I will contact Epsilon Six and determine what they’ve found so far,” Sporn continued as he tapped in commands. “You scan the history of the past twenty years and determine what exactly has changed.”

Seven set to work, tuning out his voice as he spoke to the starbase, and concentrating on the main historical events that had occurred since Janeway’s ‘adjustment’ of the timeline. They were considerable.

Admiral Janeway, having survived the crash on Tai Ceti Prime, had been instrumental in implementing a new peace treaty with the Cardassians, including a clause that compelled them to leave the occupied Bajor several years earlier than they had in Seven’s timeline. Because of that, Deep Space Nine had never been established, the wormhole leading to the Gamma Quadrant had never been discovered, and most importantly, the Changelings and the Jem’Hadar had not invaded. There had never been a Dominion War. Millions had not perished, worlds had not been subjugated and the Federation, the Klingons and the Romulans had not suffered massive losses in their respective fleets. Thanks to the efforts of Edward Janeway and others like him, Cardassia had become a welcome, if not especially trusted ally of the Federation. The Klingons were less allied than they had been, but still peaceful, and while the Romulans were apparently as big a mystery as they’d ever been, they had been quiet for quite some time, keeping to themselves and maintaining the Neutral Zone.

There had never been a Maquis created on the border worlds. And because of that, Voyager had never been compelled to chase them down in the Badlands. It had never been lost for seven years in the Delta Quadrant.

Without the threat of the Dominion, science and technology had not advanced to the same level. Voyager’s navigational system, her weapons and defense capabilities, were much the same now as they had been ten years earlier. Seven suspected that was the case with all the other vessels in the fleet. The Enterprise of this era was the Enterprise E, still flying with Picard at its helm, but it was not the powerful, state-of-the-art Sovereign-class vessel that had been built after the loss of the Enterprise D. There was no listing of a USS Millennium, nor any indication that a transwarp/slipstream vessel was being researched or built in the Utopia Planetia shipyards.

Further searching the database along more personal lines, Seven discovered that while there was a Lt. B’Elanna Torres and Lt. Ro Laren in Starfleet, they were posted to separate vessels in different parts of the sector. Tom Paris was serving out his sentence in a penal facility. Harry Kim was a lieutenant on board the Rutledge. Seven lifted a brow. There was a Lenara Kahn on board Voyager, apparently partnered with the chief medical officer. That was interesting, but only held Seven’s attention for a moment before she continued searching for information on the other people she knew. Captain Chakotay commanded the Ahwwahnee but he had no dependant named Icheb at Starfleet Academy. Tuvok served as a security officer on Chakotay’s ship, which held a sort of irony, Seven supposed. There was no record of a Kes or a Neelix, no mention of a sentient EMH, and Zar Tulek had never existed, either on Bajor or on Cardassia.

Most significantly, there was no indication of either a Seven of Nine or Annika Hansen working anywhere in the quadrant, not even in a civilian capacity. There was a mention of two scientists, Erin and Magnus Hansen, who went missing in a far-reaching section of Alpha Quadrant several years earlier, so undoubtedly they were all currently drones on Borg vessels in the Delta Quadrant. Did the Borg even exist at this point? Prior to Voyager’s intervention, the conflict with Species 8472 had been going very badly for the Collective. It was very possible that the Borg had actually been destroyed and Species 8472 had retreated to their region of fluidic space.

Seven found it difficult to breathe and had to forcibly regulate her respiration after assimilating all this information. Then she turned to what most concerned her, Janeway’s personnel file. Bypassing the security seals on both it and that of Voyager’s commanding officer, she brought them up on her screen.

Janeway had never been a starship captain. Seven found the concept both baffling and disturbing in a way that she could not fully explain, only felt in the deepest part of herself.

Instead, it had been Justin who had been placed on the fast track for command, and Justin who had received special notice from various admirals, including Janeway’s father. He had quickly risen through the ranks to first officer, and then captain, initially on the Icarus, before being awarded the brand new Intrepid-class Voyager. But unlike the Voyager of the other timeline, this ship’s record consisted mostly of political and diplomatic missions, not science or even of exploration. Justin was clearly being groomed for an eventual posting in Starfleet Administration.

And where had that left Kathryn? She and Justine had been married a year after the accident. It had taken that long for everyone to fully recover from their injuries. Pursuing a career in the sciences, she served out a string of postings on whichever ship Justin was assigned until finally, she became chief science officer and ship exec on Voyager. Seven was left with an aching sense of loss and an acute awareness of the utter waste of it all.

And she had a son, born a year after Justin had taken command of Icarus. Seven was still trying to adapt to the reality of the little boy in sickbay, so much of Kathryn apparent in his look and movement. It made her heart hurt even now.

Sporn looked up from his screen. “I’ve spoken with Dr. Grey. Janeway’s incursion has prevented millions from dying and created a fully restored Bajor. Apparently, the Dominion War was never supposed to happen.”

“Are you so sure the initial timeline was the one that was in error?” Seven asked urgently. “And not this one?”

Sporn hesitated. “Dr. Grey is. Apparently, Starfleet Command has studied this for many years. They believe that the war significantly weakened the Federation. Otherwise, the Guardian would not have mentioned Janeway’s required intervention.”

But it hadn’t weakened the Federation, Seven thought, conscious of the technological and scientific advances made over the past few years. But perhaps that was merely her personal opinion, unquestionably influenced by her time in the Collective. It was clear that events had progressed so that the Alpha Quadrant was enjoying one of its safest, most stable periods in history. That was the whole purpose of Starfleet, to protect and preserve the Federation. If there was any indication that a temporal incursion would contribute to such stability...a temporal incursion that everyone assumed was destined to happen as recorded by the Guardian of Forever...then of course they would accept this new timeline and Seven could find no way to refute it. And while this may be a great personal loss to her, ultimately, millions of individuals were better off.

And most of all, Kathryn had her father back.

Seven felt tears sting her eyes and it was only with great effort that she was able to blink them back. Swallowing hard, she picked up a few padds, downloaded the crucial data into them and stood up.

“I will pursue this in my room,” she said, striving for an even tone.

Sporn stared at her, and there might even have been a bit of compassion in his gaze, supposing he was capable of it. “Seven, let me know if there is anything to indicate the Guardian or Starfleet Command are incorrect in their assessment. I will listen to any evidence you discover.”

Seven nodded briefly, appreciating the fairness of the offer, but aware that by doing so, he didn’t really think she would find anything. Once inside her room, she sat on the side of the bed and stared blankly at the bulkhead. Accessing her memory, and the specs in Voyager’s database, she knew the captain’s quarters lay just beyond the solid, titanium wall. A glance at the chronometer indicated it was nearly dinnertime.

Placing her left hand on the wall, fingers spread, she tried to detect something from beyond it. Was Kathryn eating with her family at this moment? And what of later? When it was time to retire for the evening, what would Janeway do to uphold the Temporal Prime Directive? How far would she go?

And would it be truly so difficult for her?
Kathryn had loved Justin Tighe as much as she had ever loved Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct to Unimatrix Zero One. It was only his loss that had paved the way for Seven and Janeway to eventually be together, because certainly his survival had prevented them from ever meeting. Had he not died, even if everything else had happened the same, Seven was convinced that Janeway would not love her. She would have loved Justin, first and foremost. She would undoubtedly be in love with him again. It was only a matter of time.

Seven closed her eyes, feeling her heart shatter into a million pieces.

The longer they were in each other’s company, the more comfortable Janeway felt with her ‘son’. She eventually slipped off the chair and became involved with his convoluted game of action figures. Afterward, he helped her set the table. When Justin arrived, they were laughing over his recounting of his field trip in the holodeck. To Janeway’s surprise, however, Justin scowled when he heard the laughter as he entered their quarters and the boy immediately went quiet as he went to his place at the table.

Janeway put out the bowl of macaroni and cheese and the stack of hot dogs on the table.

“What’s this?” Justin stared at the repast in horror.

“Dinner,” she said, with a smile at her son. “It was his turn to pick.”

Justin glanced at his son, grunted, and with what was clearly an effort, he took a couple of scoops of the cheesy pasta and started to eat.

After a few moments, her son started to tell Janeway about a picture he had drawn in class after the field trip. He was about to go retrieve it when Justin frowned.

“Eddie, you know there’s no leaving the table at dinner.” So relieved was she at finally having a name to go with her offspring, Janeway overlooked the sharpness in Justin's tone.

“Yes, Father.”

Eddie ate the rest of his meal quietly while Janeway stared at her husband. It was her first real opportunity to look at him since regaining consciousness in sickbay. He appeared tired, but since that was an occupational hazard with command, Janeway disregarded it. She supposed the real difference was in his build, a far cry from the sleek, lean panther-like grace he had enjoyed in his younger days. Middle age and perhaps even marriage had widened him, made him look softer, except around the eyes. They were the same, piercing blue they had always been. He became aware of her scrutiny, and lifted his head.

“How are you feeling?” he asked abruptly.

Janeway blinked. “I’m fine. How are you?”

He looked at her a moment. “I know you can’t tell me what went on down there, but I have to say, it seems to have changed you a little.”

“How so?”

He studied her, and then shook his head. “I’m not sure. You’re just…I don’t know, you carry yourself with more assurance somehow. I think I like it.”

Great, Janeway thought sardonically. That’s all I need.

She was surprised to find that she did not find him the slightest bit attractive. She didn’t quite understand why. She knew that his looks had altered a bit, of course, and he was unquestionably much older than the dynamic, intense thirty-year-old she had known, but still, this was the man she had fallen in love with all those years ago, and had expected to share the rest of her life with. Where was the emotion that had been so powerful and overwhelming in her twenties? She took another bite of macaroni and searched for something to say, remembering the bits and pieces of conversation from sickbay.

“Do you know where we’re going after Vargus Prime?”

He shrugged. “I think Starfleet Command want us to stop by Vulcan to pick up some dignitaries for a conference on Betazed.” He continued on without any further prompting, giving his opinion regarding the issues the conference would be addressing and what they might mean to the rest of the Federation. Eddie, clearly bored, asked to be excused and went off to his bedroom to do his homework.

Janeway, having to stay and listen to Justin’s rambling monologue, had two supremely horrifying realizations. One, Justin was a completely different type of captain than she had been, and two, he was not the sort of captain she would ever serve under had she been given any choice. It was quite odd knowing that she somehow not only managed it in this timeline, she was actually his first officer. She was quite relieved when Eddie came out of the bedroom to show her his picture, a colorful sketch of Voyager and what had to be his parents. She noted that Justin was drawn much bigger than she was.

“This is very good,” she praised him. She handed the picture over to Justin, who glanced at it briefly before putting it down on the table.

“Have you finished your homework?”

Eddie, obviously anticipating his a different reaction from his father, looked crestfallen, “No, sir,” he mumbled as he picked up the picture. “I’ll do it now.” Head bent, he returned to his room.

“Would it have killed you to say something nice about his picture?” Janeway snapped as soon as the door hissed shut behind him

Startled, Justin looked at her. “What? That bit of scribbling?”

“He created it, and he was proud of it.” Despite her best effort, Janeway couldn’t stop talking. “Why are you dismissing it?”

“Kathryn, it’s an indulgence,” Justin said in a paternal tone that immediately set her teeth on edge. “He needs to pay more attention to his math and sciences, not play around with crayons.”

“They weren’t crayons, they were pastels. I suppose you consider what Phoebe does to be useless, too.”

“So do you. At least you’ve always said so,” he responded in bewilderment. Janeway felt her head go back in surprise. Now she understood the lack of any sisterly images in her quarters. Without the shared tragedy of losing their father, they apparently had never managed to reconcile the repercussions of their youthful squabbles. “What’s going on, Kathryn? Why are you so angry?”

Janeway caught her breath. Clearly, she was acting out of character, though she was beginning to wonder if she particularly liked the character of the woman she had been in this timeline. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I suppose I’m a little on edge.”

His face cleared and he nodded as if he understood. “That’s not surprising. I know how much you dislike anything involving temporal mechanics.” He paused, a furrow appearing between his dark brows. “We’ve talked about this, Kathryn. I thought you didn’t want to encourage Eddie’s pursuit of the arts. We wanted him to concentrate more on the sciences.”

Janeway was horrified. “I’ve changed my mind,” she said quickly. “If art and design is more his calling and it makes him happy, then I’m all for it.”

“But it could be considered a bit weak. After all, if he’d grown up on Klatus Prime, he’d already be working in the mines. Besides, he’ll need all his sciences and math to get into the Academy.”

“But isn’t that why you worked so hard to get out of Klatus Prime? So that you wouldn’t have to do what your father and grandfather had to do?” Janeway retorted, abruptly furious. “Don’t expect Eddie to follow in our footsteps just because we demand it of him. And he’s not weak, for God’s sake, he’s eight years old!” Her anger was enhanced because she knew how much weak people annoyed Justin. It had been one of the first things he’d ever told her, in fact. Did Eddie annoy him and worse, did his son know it? “He’s a bright little boy who wants to make his parents, particularly his father, proud. Don’t be such a bloody ass.”

Justin, his jaw hanging open a bit, just stared at her. She firmed her chin, knowing she had said way too much, but feeling an irresistible need to protect Eddie, to stand up for him against an uncaring universe and apparently, an uncaring father.

“I uh, I have some things to do in engineering,” he said, clearly at a loss. “I’ll be back later.” When you’ve cooled down a bit and come to your senses, was unspoken but clearly implied.

He quickly made his escape and she shook her head as she picked up her plate. By the time she had finished putting away the last remains of dinner. Eddie had come out of the bedroom with his homework for her to check. As they curled up on the sofa while she went over it with him, she wondered why this part, at least, felt so right when everything else felt so completely wrong. She pointed out a couple of mistakes but patiently explained where he had gone wrong, and at one point she found she was kissing the top of his head fondly as he snuggled into her body.

After he went off to bed at 0800, she went over to her workstation. She was about to research Federation history when a chime at the door made her leap up. “Seven?” She paused, regaining her composure. “Come in.”

Her father entered, and again, she felt that odd sense of displacement. She remembered an incident in the Delta Quadrant when an alien lifeform had appeared to her in Edward’s form, trying to lure her to her death. Despite how it had turned out, and the hatred she felt at the creature for using such a precious memory in order to trick her, there had also been a part of her that had been strangely grateful, because it had given her a chance to see him again.

“Hi, Daddy.”

“Hello, sweetheart,” he said, as he came over and gave her a hug. “I ran into Justin. He says you’re feeling a bit disturbed this evening.”

Immediately, she felt a sense of old pain and disappointment. So Edward wasn’t really here for her, he was here on behalf of Justin? “Is that why you stopped by?” she snapped. “So that you two can gang up on me?”

“Katie, not at all,” he said, bewildered. “I promised I’d stop by this evening, remember? What’s going on?”

Shaken, she turned away, rubbing her forehead with her fingertips. She needed to focus. “Sorry, Dad, it’s been a rough day.”

There was a silence, and then he asked with infinite gentleness, “Was it so very bad, Goldenbird?" She turned to him, surprised both at the question and to hear his pet name for her. He held up his hand. "I know, you can't tell me any of the specifics. Even an admiral doesn't have the necessary clearance to know what goes on in that starbase or on that planet once we leave it. But I know that even being aware of other timelines...of paths chosen and not chosen...can be a heavy burden to bear."

"I'll deal with it, Dad," she said mildly. "I've dealt with much worse."

"Indeed," he said, though there wasn't a great deal of conviction in his tone.

Janeway eyed him narrowly. Perhaps he knew better than she. Perhaps in this timeline, her burdens were light indeed, those of being a part of the support personnel only, and not in command. She motioned to the sofa in invitation and sat down beside him once he had settled. “I’m sorry, Dad. I’m really glad you were able to come along on this mission.”

“Well, you know me, any chance to visit with my girl,” he said, smiling. “We don’t spend nearly as much time together as I wish we did.”

Janeway stared at him, struck again by the fact that he was there, real and solid, so very alive and vital. There were so many things she wanted to say to him, so much she needed to hear, and all of it tempered by the ever present restriction of the Temporal Prime Directive and her own lack of knowledge about her past in this timeline. Still, if she had the chance to ask anyone for advice that she could take to heart and know it was right; it would be from this man above all.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Anytime, you know that, sweetheart.”

“If I…I mean, if Justin was in a position where he had to choose between his ship and his family and chose the latter, what would you think?”

Edward blinked. “Are you trying to tell me something, Katie?”

“No, it’s just a hypothetical scenario. What would be the position of Starfleet Command on it? Not what the manual says, or what an unmarried captain would say, what would really happen?”

“Life or death?”

“As crucial as that, but not quite. More a matter of personal pressures.”

Edward rested his chin between his forefinger and thumb, elbow propped on the arm of the sofa and Janeway suddenly realized where she had picked up that particular affectation.  “I suppose that depending on the circumstances, and depending on the results, he might face a certain amount of censure from various quarters. But speaking as a father, I’d take his head off if he didn’t do right by you and Eddie.”

Janeway laughed. “Would you indeed?”

“Indeed.” He smiled. “Our captains are human, Katie, and by that, I don’t mean species, I mean possessing the same fallibilities and vulnerabilities as anyone. I know that sometimes we demand more from them, so much that occasionally we forget who we’re really dealing with, but honestly, all anyone can do is the best they can, and if they do it with integrity and honest intentions, then it’ll work itself out.”

“So you don’t think he would be unfit for command if he chose family over his ship?” Janeway held her breath.

“Hardly. If that were the case, we wouldn’t be able to keep any of our married captains. Because at some point all of them will have a crisis of command verses a crisis of family and again, depending on the circumstances, Starfleet Command just has to understand that it comes with the territory. And let’s face it, Kathryn, if a man can’t commit to do right by his loved ones, how can we believe he’ll commit to an ideal? The whole concept of Starfleet and the Federation is nothing more than a grandiose ideal. When your mother and I separated, it onl---Katie, what is it?”

Janeway had strived to maintain her composure at the revelation, but despite her best effort, she had made a small cry of astonishment. He was regarding her with an odd expression and she managed a smile. “Sorry, Dad, I guess it’s still a bit of a sore spot.” She yearned to ask for details but knew it would be impossible in the role she was playing. She was already supposed to know the details.

His face softened. “You need to forgive your mother, Kathryn. Michael makes her happy in a way I couldn’t.”

Oh, boy, she thought. What a can of worms I opened up here. Well, I suppose that explains the lack of any pictures in my quarters. Edward was still looking at her and she frantically searched for something to say.

“He’s just a commander,” she growled finally.

“Let it go, Katie.”

“I have, Dad,” she said, quite honestly.

“Does that mean you’ll call your mother the next time you’re on Earth?” he added, clearly pressing.

Janeway held up her hands, laughing. “I definitely will, Dad,” she promised, wondering just what kind of spoilt brat she had been in this timeline.

And vowing to make some changes as soon as possible.

Seven stood up quickly as the door to the guest quarters abruptly hissed open without any request for admittance. The sight of Kathryn in the entrance was like a draught of cool water on a blistering hot day, the sense of relief and joy so strong that it almost overwhelmed her. She took two long strides as Janeway took two of her own and then they were in each other’s arms, clinging together.

“I’m sorry, I don’t have much time,” Janeway muttered. “I had to slip away from my duties.”

Seven, knowing what Janeway apparently did not yet suspect, merely held her as close as possible, breathing in the scent of her hair and feeling the warmth of her body against her own. She cherished each and every millisecond, recording it, memorizing it, and burning it into her memory, knowing it would have to sustain her for a long time.

Sporn came out of his bedroom. “Captain…Commander, we cannot afford this.”

Janeway released Seven briefly to glare at him. “Damn it, I know we’re under protocols---“ she began hotly.

“No, it's not that,” he interrupted. “It’s time for Voyager to break orbit. We’ve kept them here as long as is prudently possible. Seven and I must return to Epsilon Six to map out our next course of action.”

Janeway stared at him, and then at Seven, searching her face, her eyes asking the question that her lips couldn’t seem to manage.

“I do not want you to leave, Kathryn,” Seven said, somehow keeping her voice low and under control. “But I have searched the Federation databanks and there is no record of an Annika Hansen existing in this timeline. If a Seven of Nine does, then it is only as a Borg drone. I have no place here or in your life.”

“Certain procedures must be followed, Commander Tighe,” Sporn added, emphasizing the name ever so slightly. “I too, must find a way to reintegrate myself into this timeline.”

“Then I’ll stay on Epsilon Six until we’re able to work out a proper background for Seven,” Janeway said immediately.

“I’m afraid that’s impossible,” Sporn said. “You hold a rather prominent place in the Federation, or rather, you hold a rather prominent place in the lives of those who do fill important roles here. You cannot simply decide that the existence you've led in this timeline is invalid and walk away from it. There will be questions, and it will be a complete violation of the Temporal Prime Directive."

"I don't give a damn about the Temporal Prime Directive," she flared, her eyes dark and stormy.

"Be that as it may," Sporn replied, unperturbed, "Starfleet Command does, and you are sworn to uphold those protocols, regardless of your personal feelings concerning them."

Janeway glared at him and then let her breath out in a huff. "Fine, I'll find a way to leave Voyager and return here in a way that makes sense to Justin and Daddy..." she faltered briefly, "and to Eddie."

“As you will. In the meantime, I’ve informed Captain Tighe that Lt. Hansen and I will be beaming back to the base.”

Stymied, Janeway turned to Seven. Things were happening too quickly for her, Seven saw, but she suspected this was a thing best done quickly. Before Janeway began to consider all the ramifications of the situation.

“At least let me beam over with you,” Janeway said, exasperated. “I need to say a few things to my wife.”

“She’s not your wife,” Sporn reminded, saw how well that went over from the expression on Janeway’s face and took a step back, both figuratively and literally. “Very well. I will tell the captain that we need to go over some last minute security details with you.”

Seven was aware of Kathryn’s worried look in her direction, but didn’t say anything. She couldn’t. Once she tried to give voice to what she was thinking and feeling, it would be impossible to stop. That would make everything far more complicated and would accomplish nothing. Fortunately, Captain Tighe didn’t seem to find it strange that they needed to debrief his first officer one final time and after receiving his permission to transport, the three of them beamed back to the base. Sporn, showing more perception and sensitivity than he had displayed before now, discreetly left the two women alone, taking the guards along with him out into the corridor.

Janeway threw her arms around Seven’s neck, holding her close. “I’m so sorry about this, darling. I hate that we have to be apart while we work this out.”

“I know, Kathryn.” Seven found it hard to swallow, and rapidly blinked her eyes, forcing back the tears. “I will attempt to expedite the process as much as possible.”

Janeway smiled faintly. “I’m sure you will. I doubt Sporn and Dr. Grey will know what hit them.” She kissed her, lips soft and sweet against Seven’s. “Try to leave some of them alive, darling. Starfleet Command needs this Unit for some reason, though I have no idea why.”

Seven held her closer. She wanted to say so many things to her, but couldn’t find the words. Janeway seemed to sense her hesitation, but misread the cause of it.

“Don’t worry, darling, there’s nothing between Justin and myself. Whatever I might have felt for him at one time, it’s definitely not there now.” She nuzzled Seven’s chin. “Last night, I pretended to have a headache and after he went to bed, I went out and slept on the sofa.”

“And tonight?” Seven managed in a dry tone.

“I’ll think of something,” Janeway promised with a small laugh that didn’t necessarily hold a great deal of humor. “Don’t I always?”

“You do, Kathryn,” Seven whispered, but did not add that it would be impossible this time, no matter how much she might wish it to be different. She took a deep breath, holding onto her composure with the last vestiges of her control. “I love you, Kathryn. I have always loved you. I will always love you. That will never change, no matter what happens.”

“Oh, Annika, please, don’t cry, it won’t take that long before we’re together again. Time will pass quickly.”

That was exactly what Seven was afraid of. She hugged her as closely as possible, not wanting to let her go and Janeway returned the embrace, snuggled into her body in that familiar way, tucked up under her chin, as if there were only the two of them in the universe and nothing else mattered.  Finally, Janeway drew back and cupped Seven’s cheek in the palm of her hand.

"We won't be apart long, my darling,” she said firmly, her eyes warm, solid with resolve. “Once I find a way to extricate myself from my situation on Voyager, I'll be on the first transport here. It might take a few weeks or even months, but I swear to you on my life, I’ll be back for you.”

“I understand, Kathryn,” Seven said. She knew that expression, the look of absolute determination that very little could stand against. It would not be enough this time.

Janeway hugged and kissed her once more, and Seven could taste the tears on her lips, uncertain if they were Kathryn’s or her own. After Janeway stepped up onto the transporter dais, Seven went over to the console and manipulated the controls. As she looked up to meet Janeway’s gaze, she managed a small smile and lifted her hand in a farewell wave. Then, inhaling deeply, Seven drew down the levers and watched as Janeway became a column of sparkling light before disappearing completely.

For long moments, Seven stared at where she had been, dimly aware of Sporn returning to the room and standing at attention next to her. His dark eyes studied her intently.

“I know she will not return for me,” she said finally, in a cold, dead voice.

Sporn lifted an eyebrow. A few seconds passed and then he finally dipped his head. “It is…unlikely. The longer and further away an individual is from the Forever World, even if they were actually witness to the time alteration, the more ‘what is’ will impose itself on ‘what was’. In this timeline, Janeway was never a starship captain, was never lost in the Delta Quadrant, and was never in the position to rescue a drone from the Borg Collective. Instead, she is the first officer on the starship Voyager. She has a husband and a child. In time, she will be fully integrated into that life and not remember you at all. And you, once leaving the temporal zone, would exist in two places at once, with the Borg as a drone and in the Federation as a person out of time and space. The temporal psychosis would drive you insane long before it killed you. That’s assuming your cortical node, adapting to the timeline, didn’t simply direct your implants to re-assimilate you and return you to the Collective.”

“How long?” Seven swallowed hard. “How long before Kathryn forgets me completely?”

“It will be relatively quick, depending on the distance from the Forever World. A week, possibly two if she realizes what's happening and really concentrates on holding on to the memories. But it’s a very subtle process, and usually not noticed by most subjects.”

Seven nodded. Somehow, she remained impassive even as the hurt shredded the last bits of her soul, leaving nothing behind but the ragged tatters of what she had been.

“As long as you remain within the sphere of the Forever World, and the special, protective shielding of this starbase, you’ll be safe. We’ll find a place for you here in the Temporal Unit, Seven,” he added, clearly attempting to reassure her of a continued existence in this timeline. “Your knowledge and abilities will be invaluable.” When she didn’t answer, he lifted his hand, gesturing toward the door. “In the meantime, I can show you to your quarters. Dr. Grey has already made the preparations.”

She did not rail at him. What would be the point? He was being true to his oath to Starfleet, and to the Temporal Laws he was sworn to uphold. The love of two women meant nothing on the larger scale of things. An entire civilization had altered its course. Millions had been saved from dying in an unnecessary war. What were the lives of two individuals compared to that?

Somehow, Seven managed to put one foot in front of the other, managed to walk the distance it took for him to leave her in quarters that were comfortably decorated if not particularly lavish. It would be her home for the foreseeable future, perhaps even for the rest of her life.

Seven didn’t wish to think about it, didn’t want to acknowledge the whole of reality that was pressing down on her. Alone, she sat down in a chair, staring blankly into the dim illumination, trying not to exist beyond the moment, knowing that once she did, it would probably destroy her mind as surely as leaving the temporal zone would.

But here, she would always remember what had been.

Drawing her legs up onto the chair, she wrapped her arms around them, hugging her knees in a suffocating grip. It was hard to catch her breath, hard to know why she should bother. The hollow inside her seem to grow, to encompass all she was, and her only comfort, scant as it was, was the belief that perhaps in this timeline, Janeway could be happy. She could be mother to her child. She could love Justin as she loved…had loved…Seven. No burden of command would weigh her down, no guilt of lost crewmembers or failed expectations would torment her dreams.

If Seven was left with nothing, well then, that had been her existence for much of her life. She would adapt. She always adapted. That was what she was best at.

She was unaware of the keening sound that issued from her throat, of her rocking back and forth on the chair, or of the tears that dripped steadily down her face. Inside, nanoprobes surged wildly through her body, trying to stem the overwhelming emotional reaction she was going through, trying to channel the rush of grief and despair that threatened to shut down her cortical implant. Eventually after several hours, they finally succeeded, but only just, leaving her silent and unmoving in the darkness, her face blank, no longer weeping helplessly, no longer crying out in a scream of agony so deep it could not find voice with mere human vocal cords.

Leaving her alone in the dark, her feelings, her useless hopes and dreams, all buried deep within her, placed rigidly under control so that she could continue to function...just as she had in the Collective.

The first day or so out of the Forever World, Janeway thought and worried about Seven constantly, but as time went by, duty tended to distract her and she found herself falling easily into the routine of the ship. And as she did, she discovered she absolutely detested being a first officer. It was all work, from personnel problems to ship problems, with very little reward; gobs of responsibility without any of the thrill of ultimate authority. She decided she had to find another line of work as soon as possible.

Motherhood, though, apparently agreed with her. In an effort to avoid Justin as much as she could, she often found herself in the company of her father and her son during her off duty time and it wasn’t long before she was completely smitten with Eddie. He was unquestionably the cleverest little boy she had ever met, and funny as well, with a never ending batch of stories that he delighted in telling her, particularly once he discovered she wanted to hear them. At one point, during those early days, it occurred to her that if she did go after her own command, she’d have to take him with her. She certainly wasn’t about to leave him behind on Voyager with such a cold and judgmental father. Seven, of course, would instantly adapt and even come to adore him. Janeway was certain of that. Seven was good with kids. Wasn’t she? Janeway had to pause for a moment, trying to remember if Seven was or not, and unsure why she couldn’t, before another crisis arose in the engineering room and caused her to lose her train of thought as she hurried down to the lower decks to help fix the problem.

As for her father, she basked in his presence, asking his advice and guidance on as many things as she could think of. If he found it odd that she was turning to him so often or making a point of seeking him out, he didn’t say anything, merely offering a ready ear, a supportive shoulder and an open mind.

Justin, meanwhile, stayed out of her way, and didn’t comment when she chose to sleep on the sofa, or came to bed long after he did, lying uncomfortably on her side of the mattress, well out of arm’s reach as she tried to catch some sleep between bouts of his snoring. It made her wonder what the state of her marriage had been prior to Voyager’s diversion to the Forever World. Of course, if she remembered correctly, until Seven, she had always insisted on distance around herself while sleeping. By the same token, Justin had never been particularly affectionate due to his upbringing and personality. Perhaps he didn’t really notice any particular change in their interaction. If that were the case, however, Janeway suspected their marriage was a rather formal and barren type of relationship. She wondered why she would have accepted that. Had she thought that was how it should be between Starfleet officers? It was hard for her to believe, but she kept discovering things in this timeline that made her realize how different she was and how much altering that single, significant event in her life could so profoundly change who she’d become.

One evening, two days out of Vargus Prime and ten days out of the Forever World, she put Eddie to bed, left Justin home to watch him, and went over to the quarters where Edward was staying. He wouldn’t be with them much longer. They were on route to rendezvous with the USS Hood. It was heading to Bajor where Edward was expected to receive an award for all his work for the planet. She would miss him, and all his sage advice.

After offering her a mug of tea, he retrieved one for himself and settled onto the sofa beside her. She smiled, warmed by his presence.

“Dad, why do you think I never went after a command of my own?” she asked quietly.

She surprised him, she saw, but he gave the question every consideration as he sipped his steaming beverage. “I suppose because if you did, your marriage might not have survived. One captain in a relationship is hard enough. With two, it’s practically impossible.”

“But why Justin and not me? What made us decide he would make the better captain?”

“You’re in a strange mood tonight.” Edward patted her hand. “I suppose encountering the Guardian does cause one to look back over their life and wonder about the choices they make. I know it had a profound effect on me the whole time I pulled duty there.” He looked thoughtful. “So why was it Justin and not you? Well, his career was further advanced than yours when you met and I suppose, in times like these, you both decided that he would make for a better captain. You’re more of a…well, forgive me, Katie, but you’ve always wanted to go your own way…more of a James T. Kirk than a Rachel Garrett type. You probably made the right decision.”

Janeway supposed she should have been insulted, but actually, he was right, and it made her feel complimented. Still, if she intended to go after a command, she would need his support.

“Do you think I could achieve one after so long?”

For the first time, Edward looked a little alarmed at where the conversation was going. “Sweetheart, are you trying to tell me something about you and Justin? If you’re having problems---“

“We’re fine, Dad,” she said quickly, and perhaps she was even telling the truth. She wasn’t entirely sure at this point. “I just want to know if you feel I’m qualified for command.”

He looked very serious. “To be honest, I always thought it was a bit of a waste that you didn’t at least, try, but you seemed so sure that sciences was the path you wanted that I never said anything. You’re more than qualified, darling.”

Janeway nodded with a certain satisfaction. “Thanks, Dad, that’s all I wanted to know.”

They continued the conversation along other lines while they finished their tea, and after Janeway made her good-nights and wandered back to the captain’s quarters, her mind was in a whirl as she tried to figure out the best way to go about gaining a command. To her surprise, Justin was still up, sitting on the sofa, padds scattered around him and all over the coffee table as he worked. For a moment, his pose reminded her of someone, else but she couldn’t identify who.

“As soon as we finish transferring the admiral to the Hood, we’re off to Rigel Six,” he said as soon as she entered. “Starfleet Command wants us to courier a package of documents from the ruling council to the Breen peace delegation.”

Abruptly exasperated, Janeway put her hands on her hips and frowned at him. “Damn it, Justin, don’t you ever get tired of these missions? What about exploration? Discovery? Boldly going where no one’s gone before?”

Justin did not look up from his padd, though he did smile faintly. “That’s always been more your area of expertise, Katie. I know that sometimes you miss it. I promise, after this run, I’ll lobby for a few more science missions.”

As if she was a child who had to be placated with a new toy. The tone made her grit her teeth. “Maybe I should apply for a ship of my own. That way I could pursue my own missions.”

“Your own command?” It wasn’t so much that he sounded surprised, as he did dismissive.

“You don’t think I can do it?”

“It’s not a matter of whether you can do it,” he said calmly. “What makes you think Starfleet would give you a ship?”

“Excuse me?” Janeway was outraged.

“Well, come on, Katie, there are hundreds of qualified first officers in Starfleet, execs who’ve been training for the position for years, and nowhere near the ships available for them. Hell, even the Academy is limiting its applicants right now.”

Janeway paused. In this timeline, the war had not happened. Starfleet hadn’t lost officers faster than it could replace them, while both civilian and Starfleet shipyards hadn’t worked together to produce ships faster than the Dominion could destroy them. There was no pressing demand for bodies to fill positions. In this reality, there were too many over-qualified officers doing busy work on planetary bases because the fleet just wasn’t big enough to assign them all to ships.

Momentarily stymied, Janeway crossed her arms over her chest. “Then I’ll just have to find another way,” she said with determination.

That, more than anything, seemed to yank him out of his ambivalence and for the first time, he lifted his head to look at her…to really look at her. An expression of dismay and what might even have been fright crossed his face. Quickly, he rose to his feet and went over to her, taking hold of her biceps and pulling her to him.

“Kathryn, I’ve been a fool.” His voice was suddenly very gentle. “I know that I’ve neglected you and your needs lately, and I’m so sorry. I promise I’ll do better, both for you and for Eddie.” For the first time, looking up into his eyes, Janeway saw the man that she had fallen in love with. “Let me try, darling. We’re in this together. We always have been.”

When he bent his head to kiss her, she didn't resist. Afterward, she felt vaguely guilty and didn't know why. It actually took a few moments concentration before she traced the source of her guilt and when she did, she was both confused and horrified. Justin, watching the play of emotion over her face, frowned and pulled her closer.

“What's wrong?"

"I...I guess I have another one of those headaches," she stammered, pulling away from him and moving across the living area. Putting her left hand down against the surface of her workstation to support herself, she rubbed her eyes with the other.

"That's the third one this week," he said worriedly. "Maybe you should stop by sickbay."

"I will, tomorrow," she promised. She carefully arranged her face into a smile and turned to him. "Listen, why don't you turn in. I'll be in after I finish up a couple of things out here."

"I'll wait for you," he promised softly, the implication clear as he kissed her again. And again, she didn’t resist the kiss, even going so far as to return it. When he had disappeared into the bedroom, Janeway slammed her palm against the bulkhead in a combination of anger and frustration as she realized what was happening…what she should have realized from the beginning.

"Until Voyager breaks orbit. Then it will take care of itself."

Now she fully understood what Sporn had been telling Seven, what it really meant. The timeline would assert itself, rubbing out any anomalies, such as the dual memories of a single Starfleet officer caught up in the temporal adjustment. Seven, still in the sphere of the Forever World’s influence, still part of the old timeline, would remain unaffected.

Had she known? When they were saying good-bye, did she understand that Janeway's promise meant nothing? That she would never come back for her?

Janeway felt a sob rise in her chest as a sense of helplessness pervaded every part of her, and she sank weakly down on her chair at her workstation, pressing her hand over her mouth. She sought to remember Seven, the scent of her hair, the smoothness of her skin, the sound of her voice but discovered that the details danced tantalizingly out of reach. In time, she knew, they would slip away entirely, replaced by the life she had actually lived in this reality. In the end she would not remember knowing Seven of Nine at all, let alone having loved her more than life itself.

It couldn’t end this way, she thought furiously. There had to be a way out. There was always a way out.

But did she necessarily want a way out? Stricken, she stared off into the darkness. Changing time again would take away so much, including the life of a little boy she had grown to love. Seven wouldn’t want that. Janeway thought that she remembered enough of Seven’s character to know that much about her. For the good of the many, Seven would willingly give up the good of the one.

Janeway exhaled slowly. Even if she could somehow convince Justin that she had to return to Epsilon Six, even if she could convince her father to let her violate God knew how many protocols, even if she could get by Epsilon Six security and reach the Guardian, did she have the right to try? And in the end, what would making the attempt accomplish? It would take at least a week to return to that area of space and by that time, she would have forgotten why she was there.

Her strength draining from her, her hand fell to the desk, jarring the padd lying there and causing it to light up from its dormant mode. For a few seconds, she stared uncomprehendingly at the schematics displayed on the screen. She had set it on a search pattern of Federation databases days earlier, hoping to find a match to her description of the device she had buried in the ice, trying to understand what exactly she had done to change history so radically. And as she stared at the data scrolling past, detailing what the device really was, astonishment and horror filled her.

And perhaps even the tiniest flicker of hope.

She turned to her workstation and tapped frantically at her board, calculating the distance widening between her and the Epsilon Six base, acutely conscious of every second slipping by that would make her task even harder. Quickly, she composed a message, keeping it simple and to the point. And then, using every trick she knew would work in this timeline to prevent it from being detected, she used Voyager’s communication system to send it off, fearing that it would be too late.

As well as fearing that perhaps it wouldn’t be.

“I’m picking up a communications packet from Voyager.”

Seven, working at a console, did not look up. Sixteen days had passed and she had been consigned to the main control room located near the top of the Epsilon Six space station. Her duties consisted mostly of monitoring the space around them and the fluctuations of temporal energy that flowed from the Guardian. It should have been exceptionally tedious, but since she was working very hard on feeling nothing at all, she was not bored. Still, a transmission from Voyager generated a tiny bit of interest that managed to penetrate the cold, hard shell she had constructed around her emotions and despite her best intentions, she glanced over at the communications post.

Both Sporn and Dr. Grey had gone over to check with the technician. Sporn wouldn’t be on the base much longer He had thoroughly researched his history in this new timeline, and had established the credentials he required to ease back into his life. Once the next supply ship made port, he would go on board and after that, it was unlikely Seven would ever see him again. But when he shot her a sharp look, the tiny flicker of interest grew and she left her post to join them.

“What is it?” she demanded.

“Commander Tighe has transmitted a secure subspace message, coded for your eyes only,” Sporn remarked, clearly disapproving.

“Perhaps she came to realize what was happening and wished to offer a final good-bye to you,” Dr. Grey added gently. “It took a few days to reach here. At this point, she probably doesn’t even remember sending it.”

Seven glanced at her, and then nodded. “Please, transmit it to my personal workstation in my quarters. I shall go over it there after my duty shift.”

“Of course.”

Maintaining control with the help of a hasty dispatch of nanoprobes from her cortical node, Seven returned to her monitors. She didn’t know if she was ready to hear a final good-bye from Kathryn. She didn’t think she was ready for anything that might disturb the fragile balance of her current existence that consisted of rising each morning, drinking a replicated nutritional supplement, working out her duty shift, and returning to her quarters where she would consume another nutritional supplement. Then she would sit in the chair facing the viewport that looked out onto the Forever World. She would watch the weather patterns over the reddish brown continents and try very hard to think of nothing at all, until it was time for the merciful oblivion of sleep.

Sometimes, though, it was too difficult not to think, and so she would choose something from her eidetic memory. It had to be a completely innocuous recollection, usually a quiet evening in the captain’s quarters, either on Voyager or Millennium. She would be seated on the sofa, padds spread out around her, working at the coffee table. Every so often, she would look up, and Janeway would be reclined in her chair, reading an old fashioned book, a powder blue blanket draped across her legs. Seven, in her mind, would listen to the turning of the page, the soft whisper of fingertips across paper, and the sound of Janeway’s breath, interrupted occasionally by a swallow, or even a small sniff now and again if the words she was reading were particularly moving. Seven would relieve each and every second of the memory until it was time for bed. At that point, she would carefully return to reality, because bedtime with Janeway had always, at the very least, offered a slow, sleepy kiss and loving hug. At the most…

Seven wouldn’t access those particular memories. Not yet. Like a moth dancing around a candle flame, she would flit just close enough to feel the warmth and comfort of it, but approach no closer because the heat of what she had lost would sear her terribly, leaving nothing behind but a cold blackness from which she would never recover.

She hoped she had accumulated a lifetime of memories in the precious few years she had shared with Kathryn. She suspected she would require each and every one of them simply to survive. Though why she bothered, she wasn’t sure. It wasn’t just that she had lost Kathryn, though certainly it was the biggest hardship. It was that she had lost everything, her connection to Gretchen and Phoebe, her deep friendships with B’Elanna and Laren and Lenara, the sense of community with her crewmates and scientific colleagues, even that tenuous, yet growing bond with her mother, Erin, who had been recovering from her assimilation in a health facility in Helsinki.

Yet somehow, Seven survived, each day an ordeal to tolerate, each evening a refuge of sorts, and each night, the solace of unconsciousness…provided she didn’t dream. Dreams were very bad. Waking after one left her aching and feeling more alone than she thought it was possible to feel.

That evening, as she entered her quarters and replicated her supplement, she was acutely aware of what awaited her on the workstation. She thought about not accessing the message at all until more time had passed, but it pulled at her like…well, like a moth to a flame, and she was unable to resist. After all, when had she ever been able to resist Kathryn Janeway?

Taking her mug over to the desk, she sat down and before she could convince herself otherwise, she brought up the message and began to decode it. She even managed the slightest bit of a raised eyebrow when she saw it was a combination algorithm from those used by Section 31 and the Orion Syndicate.

Then she played it and when she saw Janeway’s face, she knew it had been a grave mistake. So blinded was she by her tears, so loud was the roaring of her heart in her ears and the sobs in her throat, that she didn’t even take it in on the first run through. She had to force herself to replay it several minutes later to actually grasp what Janeway was saying.

The first words were angry, and spit out like projectiles from a weapon. “Damn you for letting me go, Seven of Nine. You knew what would happen.”

Even her fury was a supreme joy to experience. Seven wiped at her eyes, trying to clear away the excess moisture.

“I found out what the device was. It was a transporter booster. Why did I need that if this timeline was meant to happen? Why did it require my interference at all to exist?”

Janeway’s features softened, and became desperate. “It’s all slipping away, Annika. I can’t remember your face. It’s as if I’m catching a glimpse of you out of the corner of my eye, but when I turn to look, there’s no one there. I remember that I loved you, but not the love itself. In a little while, even that will be gone. I can’t stop it, but maybe you can figure out why it had to happen. Answer the questions, and just maybe it won’t have to happen at all.”

Seven stared at the screen for a long moment, assimilating Janeway’s words and their meaning. Then she leaned forward and set to work. By the next morning, she had a possible solution, though it had required all her skill in bypassing security protocols and ferreting out hidden files to figure out what she had to do. It wasn’t enough to bring the questions to Dr. Grey. She had to find a way to ask them. It would also require a certain amount of deception, of which she was not the most adept. The rest was based on hope, because if those answers weren’t what she anticipated, then there would be no chance at all.

Dr. Grey was in her office when Seven paused by the open door, looking in. To her surprise, Sporn was also there, but that was all to the good. It meant she wouldn’t have to track him down.

Grey smiled kindly at her. “What is it, Lt. Hansen?”

“I have a request,” Seven said carefully. “I wish to ask the Guardian a question.”

Grey’s smile abruptly disappeared. “That’s rarely allowed, Lieutenant.”

“I am aware of that, but I must know what is happening with the Borg Collective. In my timeline, they were nearly destroyed by Species 8472, but Voyager negotiated an alliance and by our working together, they were forced back into fluidic space. That could not have happened in this timeline, because Voyager was not there to provide the altered nanoprobes that made the difference in the war.”

“And if the Collective is now destroyed, the Seven of Nine in this timeline may no longer exist, granting you the opportunity to reintegrate into the Federation.” Sporn clearly thought he knew where she was going with this and glanced at Dr. Grey. “It would simply be a matter of accessing Delta Quadrant history, which is a permissible application of Guardian technology. It might also provide information that could prove very useful to Starfleet Command regarding the current status of the Borg.”

“The applications to study various periods of history are backlogged ten years, Commander Sporn, and the certified historians applying are subjected to the most stringent of security checks,” Dr. Grey pointed out with some asperity. “Besides, even if I could place Lt. Hansen at the top of the list and bypass security protocols, all Guardian study is limited to the history of the Federation, not that of the Delta Quadrant. Furthermore, the Temporal Unit expressly forbids the use of the Guardian as a device of espionage.”

“Nonetheless, we both know that Starfleet Command owes their officer a certain debt for the sacrifice she is making to protect the timeline. We can grant her a certain dispensation when it comes to the waiting period,” Sporn countered, his tone growing noticeably firmer. “Furthermore, keeping her prisoner on this starbase for the rest of her life is a rather undesirable outcome to this situation. And the history she wishes to study is that of her own past, which, as a citizen of the Federation, makes it Federation history. This request may offer solutions to many problems. It would be illogical to refuse it.”

Grey tightened her lips. “Sometimes Sporn, I get the sense that you’re more on the side of those in Starfleet Command who wish to use the Guardian for their own ends rather than protect and study it.”

He neither denied nor confirmed, merely stared at her evenly until eventually, she threw up her hands and exhaled loudly, and for the first time, Seven realized that Sporn was not Grey’s subordinate, but rather a consultant of some kind, one who might well rank her. At the very least, his suggestions were felt strongly in the corridors of the Epsilon Six starbase. “Fine, we’ll take an unscheduled and unauthorized trip down to the Guardian. I’m sorry we don’t have a yellow brick road to follow.” When both Seven and Sporn looked at her blankly, she just shook her head. “Meet me in the transporter room in twenty minutes.”

“Yes, Doctor.” Seven was pleased. That would give her a chance to retrieve the bag she had prepared and left in her quarters. When she reached the transporter room, she was forced to open it for inspection by the guards but while they were clearly puzzled by the contents, they let it through. She was the first one there and she waited anxiously for the others to arrive. Sporn was on time. Dr. Grey was late. Seven didn’t say what she was thinking. It was a bit rude, even for her.

Down on the planet, Seven took her place in front of the Guardian, while Sporn and Dr. Grey brought out their recording devices, not wanting to miss anything. After posing her question, images began to appear, and by the time they had been brought up to the present, Dr. Grey was sitting down, her face a complete mask of horror, hands over her mouth. Sporn remained upright, but his brows were drawn so low, his eyes were mere slits.

The Borg had not been defeated. Somehow, while on the brink of extinction, they did what they did best. They adapted, and discovered a way to assimilate Species 8472. The Collective now rampaging through the Delta Quadrant, boosted by their new, purely organic technology and led by a queen, groomed for the position as Tertiary Adjunct to Unimatrix Zero One, was a far more formidable and deadly threat than anything the Federation had ever faced before. And they were making their way toward the Alpha Quadrant at a tremendously accelerated pace.

“Guardian, when will the Federation encounter the Borg?” Seven demanded.

Infuriated, shaken out of her shock, Dr. Grey jumped to her feet. “You can’t ask that!” she said angrily. “You can never ask a question pertaining to the future.”

At the same time, the Guardian replied. “In five years.”

Seven, doing her best to ignore Dr. Grey who was yelling and tugging on her arm, spoke again. “What happens to the Federation?”

“There will be no Federation. There will only be Borg."

"Damn it, Lieutenant, you are in complete violation of---what?” Stunned, Dr. Grey stopped yanking on Seven’s arm and turned to the Guardian. “No Federation?”

Sporn lifted his head. “This is a most undesirable outcome.”

“I expect it is,” Seven responded evenly. She paused. “Captain Janeway, in her message to me, indicated that the device she buried on that planet was a transporter booster. Was that planet Tau Ceti Prime? Was it her mission to save Admiral Janeway so that he could prevent the Cardassians from instigating the Dominion War?”

Dr. Grey stared at her, eyes wide. “I only know that Starfleet Command ordered the release of that file from the Temporal Archives. I doubt they anticipated the outcome, only that it was predetermined by the Guardian.”

Somehow Seven doubted that, but now was not the time to argue it. Instead, she chose her next words carefully. “If this timeline, in which the Borg will assimilate the Federation in five years, is the proper path of our history, why did it require Janeway’s direct interference to bring it into being?” She turned to the Guardian. “Why did you instruct Starfleet to alter history?”

“I did not instruct. I merely informed that history had been altered. You chose to alter it. The past is the present. The present is the future. The future is the past. All is now.”

“Because Janeway was ordered to change history by Starfleet Command, Starfleet Command ordered her to change history,” Seven said, lifting a brow. “It is a circular paradox.”
Dr. Grey’s face crumpled. “But the alteration of history prevented a war that killed so many.”
“Fewer will die in this timeline,” Seven agreed readily. “Most will be assimilated.”

Sporn was very close to frowning at this point. "The Guardian does not issue instructions or offer suggestions,” he said slowly, as if he was working it out as he went along “It only makes note of what happens and when it happens. It doesn't care about the results or the progression of any civilization, not even the Federation. It didn't demand that we interfere, just noticed that we did. Twenty years ago, the scientists on Epsilon Six may have misinterpreted the Guardian's data. In attempting to prevent a temporal anomaly and preserve a timeline, it is entirely possible that Starfleet Command actually caused one."

"I must utilize the Guardian,” Seven said urgently. “I must go back to that time and either remove the device or destroy it completely."

Sporn hesitated. "Starfleet Command---"

"May have already made an error. This is our chance to rectify it. "

Sporn stared at her. "You want to do this so that things will return to what they were." It was not said in an accusatory tone, merely as a statement of fact. "You and Janeway will be together."

"That is merely a personally advantageous but completely unrelated consequence of restoring the original timeline," Seven pointed out. Indeed, she felt oddly numb at the prospect of reuniting with Janeway. She wondered if she had incapacitated her ability to feel anything ever again. "I sincerely doubt that the total destruction of the Federation is what Starfleet Command had in mind when they assigned Captain Janeway to this mission."

"So millions must die in the Dominion War so that billions are saved from the Borg?" Grey said soberly.

"It’s not a matter of a 'trade off'," Sporn said with a hint of an edge in his tone. "I believe Janeway was correct in saying that if her interference was required at that particular juncture, then it cannot be a natural timeline that resulted. A temporal paradox has been caused rather than prevented. We must prepare for another incursion."

“I am prepared now,” Seven said and drew a white thermal suit from her bag.

He stared at her. “You planned this? You knew the Borg had assimilated Species 8472?”

“No, I merely required access to the Guardian in order to ask the proper questions. The Borg were…” Seven paused ever so slightly, thinking that Janeway would appreciate this, “…irrelevant.”

Sporn did not find it amusing. Neither did Dr. Grey. Seven pulled on her thermal suit, and ran toward the Guardian before either of them could think to stop her. “Take me to when and where Captain Janeway altered the timeline,” she said loudly as she approached the portal. “Twenty minutes after she returned to the future.”

The center of the Guardian cleared, revealing the same snowy plain Janeway had visited and without breaking stride, Seven plunged through the gateway into a blast of frigid air. The wind was brisk, blowing around the snow and even though it had only been twenty minutes, Janeway’s tracks had already disappeared, buried beneath the new drifts. Fortunately, a thermal trail lingered and Seven utilized her ocular implant to follow it to the rock outcropping. She searched around the base, looking for the disturbed area where Janeway had buried the transporter booster. Finally, she detected the slight hollow and began to brush away the snow.

A screaming thunder overhead made her huddle against the ice cold stone, hopefully just another white irregularity on a plain full of them, though it was doubtful anyone on the crashing shuttle would take the time to look out a viewport. The sound of tearing metal and the explosions of leaking fuel seemed to go on forever, pieces of titanium and heat shield raining down around her in a deadly shower as she cowered against the scant protection of the rock outcropping.

Finally the noise abated and she cautiously lifted her eyes, looking across the plain where debris was scattered for over five kilometers out onto the flat area that had broken up, revealing the ocean beneath. It was incredible that anyone had survived, but Seven knew everyone had…at least, for the time being.

She resumed her frantic scrabbling through the snow until she hand uncovered the silver cylinder. Staring at the control panel, she tried to determine how to turn it off. Given enough time, she could figure it out, but she knew that it had to be stopped before any attempt at a transport was made. Using her left hand, she smashed it against the rock, once, twice, three times until the metal casing finally shattered. She picked up all the pieces, making sure she didn’t miss any, and placed them in the pocket of her thermal suit, aware that Starfleet would retrieve every part of the wreckage as part of its investigation into the accident. Any anomaly would be noted and could provide unfortunate results in the future…in the past.

Seven felt her temples ache. She didn’t like temporal mechanics any more than her spouse did.

Then she looked toward the ice field where what remained of the Terra Nova had come to rest. She knew she should return to the time portal before her presence was detected, but what she actually did was creep through the debris field until she was in sight of the fuselage and the tail section. Lying flat behind a small rise, she peered cautiously over the edge.

She knew she was being unwise. There was no point in trying to see what happened next. She knew what happened next. She had read the files years ago. But while she knew now that it would not and should not be changed, she couldn’t seem to help herself. Peering out from beneath her hood, she watched as Janeway worked feverously over an ops console that somehow continued to draw power. Using a skill and determination beyond her current abilities, Janeway managed to channel all remaining power through the barely functioning unit, and made the attempt to transport Edward and Justin out of the cockpit that was rapidly sinking into the black depths of the ocean.

Mesmerized, Seven stared at her. Janeway looked so young, no older than Seven had been when she had first been freed from the Collective. Pain and terror twisted her features and Seven wanted nothing more than to go to her, to take away the hurt and the fear. Instead, she remained completely still as she watched the young Starfleet officer frantically try to transport her father and fiancé to safety, watched as the dawning realization came upon Janeway that all her efforts had failed. Watched her become who this tragic event would shape her into, a woman who would be captain, a woman who would challenge the Borg, and in the process, free a single drone from the Collective. A woman who would love that drone and in loving her, teach her how to love in return.

She saw Janeway deliberately, and with steadfast determination, slam her leg onto the slanted deck, a leg Seven knew to be broken in at least two places. Witnessed her do it once, twice, three times before the agony of the shattered limb overwhelmed the agony of her shattered life, and she slumped, blessedly unconscious, to the ground.

For an instant, Seven rose to her hands and knees, intending to go to her, before a chirp on her tricorder reminded her that a rescue was imminent and that she had to leave before the vessel detected her presence. Shooting one final look at the crumpled form so small and helpless, Seven forced herself to turn away, to leave and run for the coordinates of the temporal gate.

As she leaped through the portal, she felt the weight of what she had done slam down on her shoulders, a burden of such immense guilt that made her step heavy and her head bent. She had killed Kathryn's father. She had prevented her son from ever existing. What forgiveness would ever be due her now?

"Time has resumed its shape; all is as it was before. Many such journeys are possible. Let me be your gateway," the Guardian intoned soberly as she landed on the other side, the dry air harsh in her nostrils.

It was the same thing it had said to Janeway. All timelines were valid to the Guardian, all possibilities equally viable, all outcomes perfectly acceptable. How many times had it been used, and how many civilizations had been wiped from history because of it?

"Seven!"

Startled, Seven lifted her head. Sporn stood in the dusty plaza. Dr. Grey was gone. Instead, beside him stood Janeway, wearing the four pips of command on her collar and an expression of mingled sorrow and acceptance on her face. For a timeless moment, their eyes met and the complete and unconditional love Seven discovered there ripped away the hard shell of control and emotional suppression that had allowed her to function.

"Kathryn!" Then she was in her arms, not conscious of how she had crossed the distance between them. Janeway held her up as she collapsed into helpless sobs. "Oh, Kathryn."

"I'm here, my darling. I've got you. It’s all right,” Janeway told her firmly. “Everything’s going to be all right now, I promise."

Seven could not hold her close enough and to keep from crushing her, she forced herself to drop her left arm, embracing her only with her right. Aimlessly, it groped for something to hold on to and Sporn obligingly handed over the tricorder he was carrying. Her grip destroyed it in a screech of shattering metal and circuitry, pieces dropping from either side of her fist to hit the ground with a sharp clatter.

Seven could not stop crying. "I am so sorry, Kathryn. I killed your father."

"You didn't kill him," Janeway told her intently. "The accident did. Neither of us could have saved him. You simply put right what I, in that another timeline, did wrong. Hell, what Starfleet did wrong. If they hadn't sent me in the first place, none of this would have happened. "

"Take me home," Seven whispered brokenly. "Please."

"I will, Annika. We'll go now." Janeway shot a look at Sporn. "We're beaming directly to Voyager. You can do what you want. I've had enough of you, Starfleet's Temporal Unit and this godforsaken planet, is that understood?"

He opened his mouth, hesitated, and then nodded. "I understand, Com---Captain. I'll clear it with my superiors."

"You do that." She slipped her arm around Seven's waist, drawing her from the plaza. "Come on, my love. Let's go home."

The last thing Seven saw was the Guardian, standing serene and uncaring, there before humanity existed and undoubtedly there long after humanity had gone.

And in the meantime, the biggest threat it would ever face.

Captain Zar was standing by the transporter console when she and Seven rematerialized on Voyager. He glanced at Seven, concern crinkling the lines around his eyes when he saw the haggardness of her face.

"Break orbit," Janeway snapped, momentarily forgetting where and when she was. "Let's get the hell out of here." He blinked, surprised, and she felt her face warm as a flush ran up from her neck. "Please, Captain," she added, somewhat lamely.

"Of course." He quickly conveyed the orders to his helm and fell into step with her as the three of them left the transporter room. Seven stumbled along as if she had forgotten how to walk and Janeway was forced to guide her, hand firmly under her elbow, half supporting her. Zar kept darting concerned looks at them. "I know you can't tell me what went on down there, Captain, but you both look as if you've been through the ringer."

Janeway exhaled loudly. "Tulek, you have no idea." At the door to the guest quarters, she sent Seven inside with a gentle push on her back, and then turned to him. "Thank you for everything."

"You’re welcome, Kathryn, I'm glad I was here.” He tilted his head. "On to Risa?"

No, we've had about as much of this vacation as we can possibly handle," Janeway said, weariness permeating her tone. “Back to Earth, if that’s possible."

"It is. We were scheduled to return for a little R&R anyway." He paused and put his hand on her forearm. "It will be all right, Kathryn."

"God, I hope so," she said, acutely aware he had no real idea of just what she and Seven had been through. She was still digesting it, one moment sitting at her workstation after dispatching her message, and the next; standing in plaza with Sporn as if she had been there all along, waiting Seven's return from the excursion through the Guardian. Janeway decided that by transmitting the message, she had placed the subsequent events into motion and altered the timeline at that point. Her memories of her life as captain had been restored fully intact, and yet, oddly enough, she had lost nothing of the previous two weeks in the other timeline. She actually remembered not remembering and the harder she tried to reconcile the dichotomy, the more her head hurt. She supposed she would just have to add an extra two weeks to her life that could not otherwise be accounted for, just as she had those four days back on Voyager while healing her rift with Seven. To try to figure it out beyond that would only drive her mad.

"I'll let you know as soon as we're approaching Earth. It shouldn't take more than three days at maximum warp."

"Thank you, Tulek. I…if possible, we’d like to remain undisturbed for the time being."

“I understand, Kathryn. Take care of yourself. Take care of Seven.”

When Janeway entered the quarters, she saw Seven standing in the middle of them, her arms wrapped around her chest as if she were cold, an expression of such hurt and bewilderment in her face that Janeway thought her heart would break. She moved quickly to her, enfolding her in an embrace that was almost but not quite as powerful as the one on the planet's surface. Seven buried her face in Janeway’s hair.

"Kathryn," she whispered. "You are here."

"Yes, I am," Janeway responded, aware that there was no intellect working for Seven right now, just pure and unfiltered emotion. She was at her most vulnerable at this time, most in need of her captain’s and of her wife’s protection. Yet, Janeway was still unprepared when Seven started to strip away her captain’s uniform. She recovered quickly and began to do the same for Seven, tearing away the white thermal outfit and then the uniform beneath, their movements became increasingly more frantic as they sought each other out in this moment of pure and absolute need.

It wasn't for lovemaking or even the life affirming renewal of sex, it was only for the sensation of skin against skin, of bodies merging in a way that clothing somehow prevented. Stumbling together, they made their way to the bed and crawled beneath the blankets, huddled together and holding on to each other so tightly that it was difficult to breathe.

"I want...I feel a need to absorb you," Seven murmured, and from the back of her left hand, the assimilation tubules burst forth, waving aimlessly in the air and startling them both. Appalled, Seven stared at her hand and quickly retracted them. "I'm so sorry, Kathryn."

"Don't be, my darling,” Janeway assured her softly, taking Seven’s hand and kissing the palm between the thin metal bands, before turning it over to kiss the back where the tubules had erupted. “I know how you feel. If I could somehow crawl inside you, I would. I can't get close enough to you right now and I wish I were Vulcan so we could merge minds. I almost lost you, darling. Forever."

"I did lose you." Seven gulped back a sob. "I do not know how I survived it."

"Because you're stronger than you thought," Janeway told her. "Because deep down, you never gave up hope. That's all that really keeps any of us going when times are bad."

Seven did not look as if she accepted that explanation, but she didn’t say anything. She merely shifted so that every possible inch of Janeway’s flesh was touching her own.

“You knew,” Janeway said, her voice suddenly harsh. “You knew I wouldn’t be able to come back for you. How could you let me go like that?”

“Because,” Seven told her, every word clearly an agony, “there was no place for me in that reality. Even if we could have remained on the Forever World where the timeline would not impose itself on our memories, you would be forced to abandon your father…abandon your child. Leave Starfleet and the Federation and remain a prisoner in the Epsilon Six base for the rest of your life. I could never ask that of you. Never.”

“Yet you were prepared to do it, just so I could be free to live out my life? Oh, my darling Annika.”

Overwhelmed, Janeway pressed her face against Seven’s neck, aware of how much this must have shattered her, and how much she was willing to give up so that Janeway could fit into the reality that had been made. And even though Janeway wouldn’t have remembered any other life after a certain period of time, Seven most certainly would, forced to live out the rest of her existence with the knowledge of what she had lost, with her only comfort a belief that Janeway would not be suffering as she was.

“I love you so much.” Janeway kissed her temple and her cheek, and then her mouth, as tenderly and lovingly, as she knew how. “Even as it was slipping away from me, I knew how much I didn’t want to let it go.”

Seven caught her breath. “But your son…”

“Eddie.” For a moment, Janeway felt a stab of grief so intense, it made her dizzy, but then she regained control over her emotions. “He never existed, Seven, except as a figment of what might have been.” She closed her eyes, trying to sort out her thoughts. “Darling, I can morn what never was, or accept what is, and I’d rather do the latter. We’ve made a wonderful life for ourselves, and one day, that will include our own little boy. Maybe we can even call him Eddie,” she added wistfully.

Seven sniffed mightily and brushed her lips over Janeway’s temple. “We shall, Kathryn, I promise.”

“I think the most frightening thing of all to me is that while I was forgetting my love for you, I never once forgot my desire to be a starship captain.”

“But the first is dependent on your knowing me, Kathryn,” Seven whispered. “The second is merely dependant on your knowing yourself.”

“Oh.” Janeway thought about that. “I suppose it does. Thank you, darling.”

She settled closer and for the first time, she felt the terrible tautness in Seven’s body begin to ease. Gently, she rubbed her back, scratching lightly now and again, letting her find her own peace now that the first, initial reaction was over and emotion was no longer overwhelming her rationality. Her respiration slowed and steadied, her breath stirring the strands of hair near Janeway’s ear.

“Better?” she asked softly.

“Better,” Seven agreed. “It was a most…difficult experience, Kathryn.”

Apparently, Seven’s tendency to understatement had not been damaged. “I expect it was, but it’s over now.”

“Nonetheless, I believe it will be some time before I come to terms with it.”

“You’re right, I expect I’ll be sorting this one out for awhile, as well,” Janeway admitted with a sigh. “It’ll be easier once we’re home.” She slipped her palm up to Seven’s cheek, positioning her mouth against her own for a long, slow kiss. Then another, so soft and tender, warm and loving, with just the slightest hint of desire to see what would happen. Suddenly, she wanted Seven so much, she ached, but she knew she had to take her cues from Seven’ responses. She was gratified beyond measure as Seven’s lips readily parted to grant access to her tongue, moving against her own with a delicate sweetness.

“Kathryn?”

“I’m here, darling. Whatever you need right now.”

“I need you.” Seven exhaled loudly, almost a sob as her right hand ran down Janeway’s side to her hip and around to her buttock, pulling her mound roughly against her own. “I want you so much.”

“God, I want you.” Never had Janeway been so glad of their being in tune with each other. She rolled onto her back and drew the lanky body down on top of her, feeling Seven’s thigh nudge her legs apart. “My Annika.”

“Kathryn.” Quickly, Seven’s kisses became ardent, hungry, her touch more passionate and fervent. Yet, even as they melded together, there remained a hesitation, almost as if Seven was afraid to touch her despite how very badly she needed to.

"Darling?" Janeway drew back so that she could search her face.

"Kathryn, you and Justin?" Seven darkened, shame bringing a flush to her cheeks. "It is not my concern, and yet..."

"It is your concern," Janeway murmured, knowing what she meant. "And if we had?"

Seven took several deep breaths. "Your memory of me was eroding at an exponential rate,” she said finally, in an unnaturally even tone. “The love you had felt for him for over twenty years would logically take precedent. I would understand and accept whatever has happened."

Janeway took Seven's face in her palms, lifting it so that she could look in her ice blue eyes. Staring steadily into them, conveying all the honesty she possessed, she spoke quietly. "Nothing happened, Annika. I'm not saying it wouldn't have. That last night, when my memory of you had almost slipped beyond reach, and when I remembered how much and why I loved him...well, time would have dictated my actions. But until the moment I was pulled back into this timeline, nothing of an intimate nature occurred. It’s possible the marriage wasn’t particularly strong at that point, but even so, I think the inevitable would have happened sooner rather than later."

Seven lowered her gaze. "I am sorry, Kathryn. I had no right to ask."

"Yes, you did, because no matter what else, until the timeline had overtaken me completely, I was still your wife, and my wedding vows to you were still in effect."

Seven nodded, eyes shiny with unshed tears. "I wish..."

"What, darling. What do you wish?" Janeway urged gently.

"That I could say those vows to you again. And to hear you say yours to me."

"So why don't we?"

Seven looked confused. "I thought..."

"What? That it was a once in a lifetime thing? Plenty of people take the opportunity to renew their vows, darling. In fact, it was always something I planned for us to do, because Mother and Phoebe weren't able to be at our wedding on Voyager." She smiled at Seven, knowing there was need for some kind of gesture that would make this all right for her.

"Annika, my love, will you marry me all over again?"

Seven woke, gasping for air as she shuddered in the grip of fear and despair, the lingering remains of a dream…a nightmare…still impacting her systems. Wildly, she stared around the room and gradually she relaxed as the familiar surroundings of her bedroom in San Francisco soothed her fears, reassuring her that her terrible ordeal was over, and that she was home. Two days back on Earth and still the nightmares plagued her. Janeway had assured her that it was a natural reaction to all she had gone through, but at this point, Seven was ready to move on. It irritated her that her subconscious required this much stabilizing before she would be able to resume normal function.

Carefully, she turned her head, relieved to see that her nocturnal struggles had not disturbed her spouse. Indeed, it seemed that Janeway slept more peacefully now than she ever had before. For that, Seven was grateful. Moving carefully, she slipped from between the sheets and stood up, the coolness of the room brushing over her bare skin. Pausing by the window, she looked out into their back yard, struck by the splendor of the light mist pierced by early morning sunshine. Dew glistened like Antarian crystals across the emerald expanse and Jake's doghouse, empty until they brought him back from Indiana, had a large spider web in the doorway that sparkled in a pattern of infinite beauty.

“Darling?” Seven turned, smiling when she saw Janeway rubbing her eyes and yawning, her body provocatively outlined beneath the thin layer of ivory sheet. “Why are you up so early?”

“I have finished sleeping,” Seven told her logically.

“Oh.” Janeway stretched her arms above her head. “So come back to bed and neither of us will sleep.”

“As you wish.” Pulling back the blanket, Seven slid into welcoming warmth of the bed, lying on her side so that she could lean down to kiss Janeway. Because it was so wonderful, she kissed her again before rising to her elbow, looking down as she drew a fingertip lightly down her cheek. "Did you really ask me to marry you?"

"I did," Kathryn smiled lazily. "Did you really say yes?"

"I did. But we have not discussed when and where."

"At mother's farm in the meadow by the pond,,” Janeway said promptly. “Just a simple ceremony with our closest friends and family whenever you want it to be. Acceptable?"

"Most acceptable, Kathryn."

Seven regarded her intently for several seconds, memorizing each millimeter of her face. Janeway lifted a brow, blinking a bit under the scrutiny. "What?"

"I love you, Kathryn," Seven told her soberly. "I cherish every second I am with you. I regret every second I was not, every second I ignored you, or was angry with you or was not conscious of your presence. So much time wasted."

"No, darling, no regrets, and nothing wasted,” Janeway said, reaching up to run a finger gently over her lips. “Never be sorry for what you don't have, only be glad of what you do." She slipped her hand around Seven's neck and drew her head down, kissing her lightly. "We have so much to be thankful for, and if we have to make it through some bad times, then that should only make us appreciate our blessings more."

"Yes, Kathryn," Seven murmured obediently at the familiar lecture and kissed her back, lingering over her lips. Drawing her hand lightly between Janeway’s breasts, she stroked the firm bone there, then ran around the lower swell of each full curve, delighting in the smooth skin on her fingertips. Janeway made a soft murmur of pleasure against her lips, tangling her fingers in Seven’s hair to pull her closer, deepening their kiss.

Seven closed her eyes. Making love with Janeway had gained a special significance since they had left the Forever World, and a new tenderness. It had never become casual or routine for them, even after years of marriage, but now, each touch was more exquisite, each sigh more meaningful, each intimate taste more fulfilling. Suddenly, it held the same intensity and freshness as their first few times, and yet, offered the supreme comfort and serenity that came from years of experience.

“Annika,” Janeway whispered, her breath coming quick. She grasped Seven’s wrist and guided her hand down between her legs, moaning loudly as Seven’s fingertips delved deep into her wetness. Janeway’s libido had always been abundant and easily sparked, but lately, she had been particularly passionate for her spouse, far more affectionate out of bed, far more amorous in it. That was more than acceptable as far as Seven was concerned. She couldn't get enough of Janeway, could not be close enough to her physically through the course of the day. Even when attending to the most innocuous tasks, they found they were doing them in close proximity, taking every opportunity to touch, to cuddle, to be together in every way possible.

It would wear off, eventually. They were both cognizant of that. But in the meantime, they fully indulged their need for each other, glad that they were on leave and that duty would not be there to force them apart.

Fingers buried deep inside Janeway, mouth tormenting and teasing her breasts, Seven thought of what she had, what she had almost lost and nearly wept for the sheer joy of being. And as Janeway arched against her with a cry of helpless, blissful pleasure, Seven did weep, pressing her face between Janeway’s breasts, her tears mingling with the perspiration in salty satisfaction.

“Oh, darling,” Janeway murmured in the aftermath, stroking Seven’s face and neck as she used her other arm to hug her head to her chest. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, Kathryn.” Seven lifted her head to look at her. “Was that adequate?”

Janeway’s teeth were a sparkling white against her wine colored lips, swollen from Seven’s kisses. “You know it was.” She gently wiped away a tear from Seven’s cheek with her thumb. “And this?”

“Tears of joy,” Seven assured her. “Being with you is perfection.”

Janeway really didn’t have a response for that, Seven saw, just offered that particularly vulnerable expression that meant so much, and drew her down for a long, slow, decidedly heartfelt kiss. Then another, deeper, more desirous, openly lusting for her in a way that left Seven tingling from head to toe. Readily surrendering to Janeway’s passion, she found herself rolled over onto her back, shivering beneath an onslaught of lips and tongue as Janeway kissed and licked and nibbled her way down the length of her body, settling between her thighs as if intending to stay there forever.

Stretching her arms above her head, Seven smiled blissfully, eyes closed as she felt Janeway’s tongue stoke her clit with devastating effect, up one side and down the other, tickling the tip provocatively before playfully pulling it between her lips. She could keep Seven on the brink for literally hours, never crossing that line between sensitivity and numbness, or delight and discomfort, maintaining that perfect edge of sensuality. Fortunately for Seven, who had plans for the day, Janeway was not inclined to prolong her pleasure for that long. Instead, she covered her clit with her lips, sucking on it gently and ratcheting up Seven’s desire accordingly, leaving her wet and aching for the next touch, which came in the form of a long, elegant index finger inserted gently into her, probing deeply. Then another finger, pressing into her anus, thrust into the tight channel to fill her completely. Seven felt her toes curl in sheer delight as her hips undulated against the unrelenting caresses, the sensation sweeping through her in steady waves, each one stronger than the one before until finally, she was cresting on the swell of her climax.

Afterward, Janeway lazily retraced her trail up Seven’s stomach and breasts, reaching her mouth where they kissed deeply, sharing Seven’s flavor in a melding of tongues and lips. “Let’s stay here for the rest of the day,” Janeway muttered happily.

“I regret that I cannot,” Seven told her, welcoming her soft weight pressing down on her as she hugged her. “I have an appointment.”

Janeway lifted a brow “Yes, you do, I forgot.” She grew serious. “Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?”

“It is unnecessary, Kathryn,” Seven said, though a part of her had considered it, just for the sake of having her there. “You would not be able to go in with me. She is not yet ready. And I have no idea how long I will be.”

“Still, I could wait out in the gardens.”

Seven smiled faintly, drawing her down in another kiss. “Thank you, Kathryn. Please, enjoy your morning here. I will contact you when I am on my way home.”

Two hours later, after transporting to the main station in the city’s downtown, Seven stood on the graveled path leading to a large, white mansion. It had been early morning when she left San Francisco but it was already early evening here, though the northern latitude would keep it daylight for a couple of hours yet. Surrounded by lush, lavish gardens and expansive lawns, the house and grounds appeared the picture of an affluent home belonging to some Federation Council member, but it was actually a care facility. As Seven made her way inside, she felt a tightness at the base of her spine that indicated how nervous she was about the upcoming encounter.

Inside the foyer, a smiling woman in a pastel blue coat waited for her. Tall and blonde, her Scandinavian features were friendly and open. Seven liked her, though it was rare when someone provoked that emotion in her without a long period of becoming acquainted. “Annika, it’s so good to see you again. Another successful mission with Millennium?”

“Yes, Dr. Sabathia.” Seven felt an odd sense of guilt that her mother’s doctor believed she had just returned from the Beta Quadrant. But she had not been prepared to come prior to Janeway’s professed wish for a ‘vacation’, believing it was better to take that time with her spouse rather than come directly to the facility. Considering how their vacation had turned out, perhaps she shouldn’t have put off the visit. “Her progress?”

“I think you’ll be very surprised at how far she’s come in the time you’ve been gone,” Dr. Sabathia said as they fell into step with each other. Both were speaking Finnish, Seven as familiar with that language as she was the standard North American English, having assimilated all the Earth languages. She was surprised when, instead of turning the corridor to Erin’s room, the doctor went the other way, to the glass doors that led out to a small patio surrounded by flowering bushes.

Seven caught her breath at the sight of the slender figure sitting beneath the shade of an imported red maple. Erin was shorter than her daughter, and slighter, but shared the same eyes and chin. Her hair was pure white, falling lightly about her shoulders, fine lines radiating from the corners of her eyes. She was reading from a padd and to Seven’s great astonishment, actually appeared functional.

Seven glanced at the doctor, eyebrow lifting. Dr. Sabathia smiled. “I told you you’d be surprised.”

“Does she know who I am?”

Sabathia pursed her lips. “To be honest, I’m not entirely sure. She knows you’ve come to visit her in the past. She acknowledges it when we tell her that you are her daughter as an adult, but I don’t feel that she has truly made the connection between what is and what was. When she talks about her child, it’s always in terms of you being six years old.” She paused, frowning as she regarded her patient who was, as yet, unaware of her visitors. “Honestly, Annika, I have no idea what will happen, which is why I made a point of being here. This may prove to be a huge breakthrough for her…or it may cause a severe setback.”

“Do you wish to cancel my visit?” Seven asked, alarmed.

“My oath, as a physician, is to do no harm. Putting you together at this particular juncture may cause a certain amount of reversal in her progress. On the other hand, I can’t keep her stalled at the same level any longer, so not going ahead may also cause harm.” Dr. Sabathia turned to look at her, her gaze clear and compassionate. “As her next of kin, I will abide by whatever you decide.”

Seven exhaled. She should have allowed Janeway to accompany her. If nothing else, she could have offered her advice. She was only a hail away, of course, but despite their new closeness, a part of Seven felt compelled to make this decision on her own. It was her responsibility, and her call. “I will speak with her. You will be here to monitor everything. I have full confidence in your ability to handle any repercussions, even if they are less than optimal.”

“Very well, Annika. I’ll be right here.”

Leaving the doctor on a bench by the door, Seven moved cautiously toward her mother. When Erin looked up, she stopped, but when Erin did no more than smile vaguely, she resumed her approach.

Carefully sitting down on the bench beside her, she studied her closely. “Hello, Mother,” she said, shifting to English, Erin’s first language.

Erin stared at her for a moment. “Hello, Seven of Nine.”

Not Annika, but her Borg designation. Still, that was a huge improvement over Seven’s initial visit over a year ago. It had happened shortly after Erin had regained awareness as an individual for the first time. She had taken one look at Seven’s implants and started screaming hysterically. Hustled swiftly out of the room while the medical attendants sedated Erin, a very shaken Seven, on the verge of tears, had rushed back to Phoebe’s house in Indiana where they were spending their leave, falling into Janeway’s comforting embrace. It had taken a certain amount of encouragement and convincing by her spouse for Seven to gather up the courage to return to Helsinki a week later. Since then, her interaction with her mother had consisted of Erin staring off into space while Seven struggled to conduct a one-sided conversation, as directed by the doctor.  For Erin to actually respond to her directly, as an individual, was a vast advancement in her mental abilities.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine. Yourself?”

“I am functional.” Seven hesitated, searching for something to say. She had become somewhat adept at the one-sided conversation over time. She was on uncertain ground with this new interaction. “I have just returned from a vacation. It was not successful.”

“That’s too bad.” Erin tilted her head slightly, looking at her with the slightest smile on her lips. “And Kathryn? She is well?”

Seven blinked, astounded. “Yes. You know who Kathryn is?”

“She is your wife. Dr. Sabathia told me about her. She showed me images of the two of you together.”

Seven gentled her tone. “Do you know who I am?”

For the first time, Erin seemed hesitant. “They say you are my daughter.” She paused, a small furrow between her brows. “My daughter was only six. Something very bad happened to her.”

“Yes, it did, but I survived it.” Not sure it was the right thing to do but following her instincts, just as Kathryn had always advised her to do, Seven reached over and put her hand on Erin’s. “We are no longer Borg, Mother. We are individuals.” She managed a smile. “And we are loved.”

Erin looked at her soberly for a long moment. And then carefully she turned her hand so that her palm was against Seven’s and she linked her fingers with hers, squeezing lightly.

It was a start.

Janeway could tell from Seven’s expression that the visit with her mother had been successful and she smiled as she welcomed her back with a hug and a sound kiss. “I take it things went well?”

“Very well.” Seven smiled broadly. For anyone else, that was the equivalent of capering about the room, shouting exuberantly at the top of her lungs. Janeway was impressed.

“Come sit with me on the sofa,” Janeway invited. Seven had hailed her from Helsinki, telling her that she was leaving the care facility and was on her way to the transporter station. That had given Janeway enough time to light a fire in the hearth, replicate some herbal tea and program a selection of soothing music into the house computer. Seven’s tone over the communicator had indicated nothing about how her meeting had gone, so Janeway had prepared for the worst. “Tell me everything.”

As she listened to Seven’s recounting of her visit, Janeway couldn’t help but contrast this attitude with Seven’s initial reaction to finding her mother. It seemed that both Hansens had come a long way. After Seven finished, Janeway squeezed the hand she’d been holding. She could have warned her of a possible relapse, of the possibility that Erin would falter in her progress, but Seven was clearly too happy for her to offer anything negative, so instead she merely added, “It sounds as if she's well on her way to recovery.”

“She is,” Seven responded, and there was a hint of wonder in her tone. “I told her about the upcoming ceremony to renew our vows. Dr. Sabathia feels that she may be well enough at this point to have a supervised visit to Indiana. My mother could be present at our second wedding ceremony.”

“That’s wonderful, Seven. I’m very pleased.”

“So am I.” Seven glanced at the chronometer over the fireplace mantel. “It is nearly lunch time. It was night when I left. The difference in time zones can be disconcerting.”

“They used to call it ‘jet lag’,” Janeway told her. “Now it’s transporter lag and is much worse.”

“I do not perceive it on away missions.”

“Because we always try to synchronize the ship’s orbit with the planetary time zone we’re visiting,” Janeway pointed out. “You’ve never noticed?”

Seven blinked. “It was irrelevant.”

Janeway laughed and leaned over so that she could kiss her. She wanted to be in constant physical contact with Seven all the time now and it had surprised her how much she had missed her during the few hours she’d been gone. The threat of her always being gone and forgotten still lingered, she supposed, and suspected it would for a while. “I’ve been thinking about dinner this evening. What do you say we go to Indiana and fill Mother in on our plans? We could check out the meadow, determine exactly where we want everything to be set up.”

“I wou---“

The chirp from their respective communicators, worn even on Earth, interrupted Seven and startled them both. Instantly, Janeway assumed full command mode. To have an incoming call to both of them simultaneously on a Starfleet channel wasn’t good. It usually meant an emergency callback to duty, and under circumstances so dire, all leaves were being revoked.

“Janeway here.”

“Captain, Seven, it’s Ro. B’Elanna’s in labor! The baby may come at any time.”

Her normally composed and accomplished chief of security sounded more than a little flustered. Janeway glanced over at Seven, saw her eyes widen, and bit back a smile. “And you called us rather than your doctor?”

“No, ma’am, I…we’re at the medical center. Dr. Pulaski is here. I’m sorry, I just…I didn’t know who else to notify.”

Seven tilted her head as she reached out and put her hand over Janeway’s communicator and one over her own, muting them. “Because we are all the family they have,” she reminded quietly.

“Of course.” Seven took her hand away and Janeway modulated her tone. “We’ll be right there, Laren. Where are you? At the base hospital?”

“Yes.”

After a hasty walk to the San Francisco transport center located only a few blocks away from where they lived, Janeway and Seven transported to the McKinley space station, and from there, to Mars where Ro and B’Elanna generally stayed while between missions. The medical center at the Utopia Planetia groundside base wasn’t particularly large, but it was fully equipped as all Starfleet planetary facilities were. Ro was in with B’Elanna when they arrived so they found themselves in a waiting area, somewhat uncertain what to do next.

“I suppose we wait, darling,” Janeway said, trying to make herself comfortable on a chair that seemed designed for beings other than Human. “This could take a while. I wish she’d called after lunch.”

“Is this not unusual, Kathryn? Are not babies usually born in the early morning hours?

“I’m not sure, love. If that’s the rule, then I guess we’ll be here awhile.”

“It is inefficient.” Seven winced and Janeway wondered if somehow, her enhanced hearing was able to detect what was happening in the delivery room. “Why do they simply not transport the baby from the mother once it has completed its gestation period?”

“They can if they have to,” Janeway said complacently. Thankfully her hearing was not nearly as sensitive as Seven’s. “But the baby’s genetic matrix is so similar to the mother’s at that juncture, it can be a risky procedure. Besides, I believe B’Elanna wished to have a completely ‘natural’ experience giving birth. A lengthy labor can be considered part of that.” She smiled faintly. “My understanding, in fact, is that Klingon labor can last for days.”

Seven absorbed that silently, and then glanced around. “There is a small diner located by the lobby, Kathryn. Shall we wait there for the next hour or so?”

“Splendid idea. This chair doesn’t agree with me at all.”

To the couples’ surprise and gratitude, B’Elanna was no more restrained or patient in giving birth than she was in any other aspect of her life. Only a couple of hours had passed after their return from the diner before Dr. Pulaski came out to the waiting room to notify them that they could come in, and that it was a girl, the latter of which, they had already known.

B’Elanna look mussed and agitated, but the expression on her face as she regarded her little girl was unlike anything Janeway had ever seen before. She looked up at her captain and best friend and absolutely beamed.

“Say hello to Ro Miral Torres,” she said.

Seven, already besotted, moved closer, staring down at the tiny bundle with a combination of awe and astonishment. Janeway offered her best wishes, and left the two friends to dote over the newcomer as she and Ro drifted out into the corridor. A transparency allowed a view into the room of mother and daughter and Ro leaned against the wall next to it.

“I’m glad you were here,” she said quietly.

“I’m glad we were, too,” Janeway responded. “It was over quickly.”

“Believe me, it wasn’t that quick.” Ro laughed painfully. “I didn’t call you for all the false labor she went through over the past few weeks or last night when this bout actually started.”

“Oh. Well, then, for that, I am suitably grateful,” Janeway said. Now that it was mentioned, she did think Ro looked exceptionally weary. Well, her understanding was that it would only get worse from here. She smiled and leaned on the railing next to her.

“How was your vacation?”

“Abbreviated,” Janeway said, knowing that the details of the Forever World were completely classified. “We had a bit of a problem on the cruise to Risa.”

“So I heard. Something to do with a strand out of a nova in the Breen sector wasn’t it? A one in a billionth chance encounter.”

“I’ve always been lucky that way,” Janeway said dryly, sparking a small laugh from Ro. She glanced over at her. “Laren?”

“Captain?” Ro responded, without looking away from her spouse and daughter.

“I received word from Admiral Nechayev this morning. How do you feel about shipping out as my exec next mission?”

That drew Ro’s gaze from Miral to Janeway’s and just one look in her eyes was all Janeway needed to know she would have to start looking for someone else. But Ro tried to explain anyway.

“Kathryn, I grew up in an interment camp on Bajor. My parents---“

“I’ve read your file,” Janeway interrupted gently. Both Ro’s parents had died in that camp, her mother from fever, and her father murdered by the Cardassian guards right in front of a horrified ten-year-old Laren. There was no need for Ro to have to rehash that.

Ro inhaled. “The point is, my parents did their best, and that was okay, but if they’d had any choice in the matter, I know they’d have wanted a better life for me. B’Elanna’s parents split up, and her father was away in Starfleet while her mom had to go out and earn a living that also kept her away a lot. Lanna was pretty much raised by her grandmother. Again, that’s how it works sometimes and she turned out pretty terrific, but again I think, if her parents had any kind of choice about it…”

She looked back at her little girl, her face softening. “She’s so small, Kathryn, so helpless, and she needs us both so much, at least in the first couple of years. Being first officer…that demands a lot from a person. Not just time and energy, but to be a good one…to be the best kind of one like Riker or Zar, that takes a certain level of commitment that I’m not prepared to take away from her and give to you.”

Janeway smiled, albeit, a little crookedly. “I can’t say I’m surprised by that. A little disappointed, purely on a selfish basis, but I quite understand.”

“In time, once she’s walking and talking and has some independence, then I can commit to that kind of situation. Of course, I haven’t talked to B’Elanna about any final decisions yet, and it’s possible she has a totally different view. She may want to stay here on Earth for the first couple of years.” She dipped her head, lowering her tone. “We may not be shipping out at all.”

That was definitely the worst-case scenario as far as Janeway was concerned. She could envision training another first officer, but to do it without Ro’s help? And to have to find another chief engineer to keep the ship’s systems running smoothly? Did she even dare go out on Millennium to another quadrant with an unproven and unknown person in that position? It made her ill but then, the possibility had always been there.

“You have a couple of months to think about it,” Janeway managed evenly. “Let me know what you decide.”

“We will, Captain, in plenty of time for you to find replacements if it comes to that.” Ro reached out and touched Janeway’s forearm. It was an unexpected gesture and Janeway immediately focused her attention on her. “Kathryn, Lanna and I would be extremely grateful if you and Seven would be Miral’s godparents. If anything should happen to us, I’d like to know she’d always have a home with you.”

Janeway blinked. “Of course, we’d be honored.” She glanced into the room, lifting a brow as she saw Seven was now holding the baby, a completely goofy expression on her face. “In fact, I think you would have had a problem had you offered the position to anyone else.”

Ro followed her gaze and also smiled. “I suspect you’re right. And honestly, Kathryn, to know Seven will be there to help protect my child…it makes me sleep a great deal easier at night.”

Janeway smiled. “Knowing Seven’s around makes us all sleep better at night, Laren."

Forced to pre-empt their planned visit because of the unexpected arrival of Miral, Janeway and Seven chose to transport to Indiana later in the week, intent on spending the day with Gretchen and Phoebe. Both were thrilled to hear about the couple’s plan to renew their vows and immediately set to work making preparations. It wasn’t long before Janeway realized she was rather out of her depth, just as she had the first time around, and decided that a walk around the farm would be a preferable way to spend her time. Under the guise of “checking out the meadow by the pond”, she left them in the parlor and made her escape. She doubted she fooled anyone but it left her free of the house, which was all she wanted.

She spent an hour or so wandering idly through the rows of new corn, the leafy stalks barely reaching her shoulder, and finally vaulted the ditch between the field and the meadow where they intended to hold their renewal service. As she landed on the other side, she realized they would have to make some kind of path and a bridge over the ditch to facilitate any guests of the ceremony. Butterflies fluttered above the swaying grass, grasshoppers leaping vigorously out of her path as she walked toward the pond in the hollow. The sun-dappled water hosted a small family of ducks and two swans. At the shallow end, lily pads and water lilies were in full bloom while at the deep end, trailing branches from the large willow tree provided protection for a variety of fish.

She made a token effort to figure out where they should stand, decided Seven was much better at that sort of thing, considered her effort sufficient and headed for a spot beneath the willow tree. Under its spreading branches, in the soothing shade of green and silver, she had always found a refuge, ever since she had been a child. She settled down on a convenient root, her back supported by the sturdy trunk and relaxed, feeling the sense of home and harmony fill her to the core.

Time passed with lazy ease and the sound of approaching footsteps made her open her eyes. She smiled in surprise and pleasure as Seven ducked under the branches into the leafy lair. She had a picnic basket hooked over one arm, and a blanket draped over the other.

“How did you know I was here?”

“Where else would you be?” Seven responded logically. She spread the blanket over the soft moss on the ground and began to unpack the wicker basket. “Gretchen packed a lunch for us. However, in return for this favor, she demands that we stay for dinner with her and Michael. Phoebe is also bringing a guest.”

“Of course.” Janeway leaned forward with interest, picking out a whole wheat tortilla wrap filled with pieces of roasted chicken breast, romaine lettuce, tomato, bacon bits, Caesar dressing and grated Parmesan cheese. “Delicious,” she murmured through a mouthful of zesty flavors. “Have you all settled on what you want to do?”

Seven delicately swallowed a bite before responding. “We have. I am sure you will find it acceptable.”

“I’m sure I will, too.” Janeway doubted that she had any more choice in the matter than she’d had on the Forever World. They spent the rest of lunch, which included potato salad and some fresh strawberries with whipped cream for desert, going over the various suggestions Gretchen and Phoebe had presented. To Janeway’s relief, it didn’t seem to have expanded out of control, honoring their desire for a simple celebration, while at the same time, incorporating some things they hadn’t thought of, but would enhance the experience.

After they were through eating and had cleaned up, Seven took Janeway’s place against the tree while Janeway stretched out on the blanket, head resting comfortably on Seven’s lap. Belly full, her beloved in close proximity, the scent of growing things fresh in her nostrils, Janeway felt considerably content with the universe, suspecting that Seven was feeling the same.

A few moments passed as they reclined beneath the willow, listening to the soft breeze rustle the dropping branches. Looking up at Seven, Janeway saw her glancing around, assessing their surroundings, absorbing everything. It was a habit of Seven’s to take in every detail, but lately it seemed to be more acute and inclusive. Curious, Janeway nudged her lightly with her head.

“What are you doing?”

“This will be a good memory,” Seven told her, a hint of satisfaction coloring her tone.

Amused, Janeway’s tone became jocular, teasing her. “Collecting them, are you?” Not thinking.

Seven’s gaze abruptly became distant and bleak. “They were all I had.”

Immediately, Janeway sat up and wrapped her arms around Seven’s neck, holding her tightly. Seven did not weep, but for a few seconds, she shivered as if in the grip of a great and terrible cold. “I’m here, my love,” Janeway whispered. “I have you.” She brushed her lips over Seven’s temple and cheek, wishing she could fix it, but knowing this was something that Seven had to deal with on her own. All she could do was be there and reassure her of her presence.

Finally, Seven drew back, looking a bit disconcerted. “We have not talked about what happened.”

“No, we haven’t.” Janeway rested her fingertips lightly against Seven’s chin. “Still edging around it, I suspect. That’s all right. We didn’t need to jump into it until we were ready.” But they had to come to terms with it sooner or later. This was probably the perfect place and time.

"Kathryn, about your father..." Seven trailed off, unsure of what to say next.

"I'm okay with everything that happened, darling," Janeway told her gently. "In fact, I think I worked out a lot of issues during those two weeks. Trust me, Seven, I don't mourn not having my father alive and well. I'm just so grateful for that little time I was able to spend with him, time that I shouldn't have had in the normal scheme of things.”

She looked into Seven’s eyes, needing to convince her. “As for Justin…” She paused, taking time to find the proper words. “I was very young when he and I fell in love, and I had some very strong opinions about how relationships worked back then. I have no doubt that I would have tried to change who I was to who I thought I should be for him. Maybe I even would have resented it as I grew older, but it would never have been his fault, it would have always been mine. The problem is, I might not have recognized that in a less enlightened version of myself."

"Do you think that was why you were only a first officer in that timeline?"

"I think I put his career first, and to be fair, I probably didn't know what I was missing. I sure as hell know in this timeline." She smiled and shifted, turning until she was nestled against Seven, curling up against her body as she settled into her embrace. "It clarified things for me, darling. I'm not ready to give up my command. It’s too important to who I am."

Seven sounded very relieved. "A wise decision, Kathryn."

"And it's like my father said, when it comes to married verses single captains, neither is better or worse, they're just different depending on the circumstances. A married officer is more prudent about certain things, and can make a better decision, but can also be too timid when a situation calls for a certain recklessness. By the same token, a single officer can make hard choices without hesitation, but sometimes that hesitation…that input from someone very close to them…can be exactly what the situation needs. It's a balance and one I suppose, I'll have to be aware of even more than I already am."

She felt Seven kiss the top of her head. "I suspect I shall be hearing a great deal about what your father thought and said from now on."

Janeway uttered a small laugh. "Yes, if nothing else, I know I took full advantage of my opportunity to spend time with him. That's something I'll always cherish."

“I am glad, Kathryn.” Seven tangled her fingers in Janeway’s hair, holding her close. “Yet, our ordeal continues to concern me. It was most imprudent for Starfleet Command to authorize the release of that file from the Temporal Archives, let alone insist it be implemented.”

“The file was only the catalyst, Annika.”

“In what way?”

Janeway inhaled slowly. "I have an uncomfortable feeling that someone in Starfleet Command decided it would be a good idea to see just what would happen if the Guardian was used. The file they had stored in the archives merely afforded them the perfect opportunity to try."

"If so, they made a crucial error in judgment,” Seven noted coolly, “considering the eventual fate of the Federation in that timeline."

"Or maybe they didn't make an error at all," Janeway said soberly. "Darling, I know I insisted you come along, but in truth, that was pure indulgence on the part of both the Temporal Unit and Starfleet Command. Either of them, at any time, could have refused you access to the Epsilon Six base, and made you remain on Voyager. You would have been caught up in the timeline displacement along with everyone else outside the sphere of the Forever World."

"I would have been the Collective, functioning as queen with no memory of you or my humanity at all. I would not have been available to repair the damage to the timeline." Seven sounded considerably dismayed at the concept.

"You were their safety valve, darling." Fury warred with nausea in Janeway to know they had been used in such a way, particularly her spouse. "Their insurance."

"Who is 'they', Kathryn? Section 31?"

"Perhaps, or maybe just some shortsighted admiral in Starfleet Intelligence with the authority and desire to play God. We may never know."

Seven lifted her brow. "Do you wish to know? If we channel our resources into discovering who was behind this, I believe we will be successful."

Janeway set her jaw. "I believe we would, too. But what would be the price of finding out? There's always a cost, darling. Are we prepared to pay it?"

"What do you wish to do, Kathryn?" Seven asked finally, the inflection of her tone acknowledging the validity of Janeway’s words, part anger, and part resignation.

"I think our best option is to return to Millennium, jump beyond where they can easily reach us and keep our heads down for a while. Once enough time has passed, once we're no longer on their radar, perhaps then we can start digging. Perhaps then we can track them down and hold them accountable for their actions."

"A sound tactical plan, Kathryn," Seven told her with approval.

“Thank you, love. I try.” She smiled and Seven returned it, stroking Janeway's ear and cheek lightly with her fingertips before leaning down to kiss her. Janeway parted her lips, inviting a deeper exploration that Seven readily accepted, her tongue moving gently against her own. She tasted sweet, of strawberries and cream, and Janeway happily slipped her arms around her neck once more, knowing she was in the most perfect place in the universe.

"What of Ro and B'Elanna?” Seven asked, when they finally parted. “Do you believe they made the right decision?"

Janeway, who had heard from the couple the day before, merely lifted her brow. "They both want to try it for a year. If it doesn’t work out, then they can always accept groundside positions when we return. I’ll be honest, darling, after talking to Ro, I’m surprised they decided so quickly. B’Elanna seemed particularly adamant that they’d be better off on board Millennium. I’m not sure why but in any event, I have to tell Nechayev that the position of first officer remains open."

"It will be most interesting to see who she chooses for you this time. How you deal with the challenge provides a certain amount of entertainment."

“For you and the rest of the ship, maybe,” Janeway said dryly. “It’s not that entertaining for me, I assure you."

Seven smiled. “It is to Starfleet’s benefit that you train these officers, Kathryn. They will always do what’s best for themselves.”

“Ah, you’re learning, my love. In the meantime, we’ll just have to do what’s best for us.”

“Renewing our vows is best for us,” Seven said with assurance.

And so it was, several weeks later, that Janeway and Seven stood beneath a flowered arch designed by Phoebe in front of the local pastor of Gretchen’s church. Both wore filmy white sundresses and wildflowers in their hair as, before those they loved most, they spoke again the vows they had made all those years ago on Voyager, feeling them as strongly now as they did then.

Erin was there, standing with Gretchen, Michael and Phoebe and the rest of the Taylor and Janeway family. Nearby, Miral rested in the comfort and protection of B’Elanna and Ro’s arms while Tom Paris and Kes looked enviously at the couple’s new addition. Harry and his wife kept a tight hold on their children, not wanting them to run wild through the meadow. Zar’s leave was up and Voyager had broke orbit before the wedding while Neelix and Chakotay hadn’t managed to arrange leave and make the trip to Earth, but Icheb had, arriving with Tuvok all the way from Vulcan. Dr. Pulaski and Lewis, the EMH, stood together, while Samantha Wildman, along with Mezoti and Naomi looked on from beside them.

And beyond all of them, Janeway thought she could feel the faintest trace of Edward’s presence, looking down and smiling. It was a fallacy, she knew, but one that gave her comfort nonetheless. Wherever he was, she hoped he was at peace.

She knew she finally was.

The End