This is the 5th in the Just Between Series. It was written in August of 1998 and takes place after the events in Hope & Fear.

Dedicated to my readers (including my betas) who offered suggestions and ideas for this story.

Just Between Enemies

G.L. Dartt

Striding briskly down the corridor on deck six, Janeway paused before large doors to the holodeck, and frowned as she tried to access the controls to enter without success. She made a second attempt, looking closer at the readout, and realized there was a high-level privacy seal engaged, sealing the holodeck against casual intruders. The listing on the small console did clear her to enter, provided she key in her command code,, and intrigued by the level of security placed on the program currently running inside, she promptly entered the proper encryption, walking through the grudgingly parted doors with eager anticipation

She was surprised to find herself walking onto Voyager’s bridge.

She blinked, her eyes grey with confusion as she looked around, experiencing a few seconds of disorientation, and wondering if she had somehow lost track of where she was. It all sounded and appeared completely normal, a regular day in the Delta Quadrant, 60,000 light-years from the Federation, with the alpha shift all present and accounted for. To Janeway’s right, her chief of security stood at his post at tactical, eyeing her curiously, eyebrow raised.

“Tuvok?”

“Is something wrong, Captain?” he asked politely. A tall, slender man with elegantly pointed ears, his dark-skinned face displayed an inquiring expression, which was about as much emotion as Vulcans allowed themselves to exhibit.

She took a slow breath. “No,” she responded. “I’m fine.”

She glanced to her left, discovered the dark-haired Lt. Harry Kim manning the operations console, while at the front of the bridge, the boyish Lt. Tom Paris sat at the helm, navigating the ship. There was however, no one manning the port and starboard science stations. A mistake, she noted. Those auxiliary stations were usually manned during the alpha rotation, or during an alert status by junior officers. There were no junior officers present at all. As she walked down the stairs to the main bridge area, she wondered why her astrometrics officer would run a simulation utilizing the ship’s senior command crew?

Seven of Nine had been the Tertiary Adjunct to the Unimatrix 01, assigned to assist Captain Janeway of the USS Voyager when the Starfleet captain found herself having to affiliate herself with the Borg Collective … the greatest enemy the Federation had ever known. Somehow, the captain had managed to get her ship through that sector of space safely, though the addition of the Borg drone to her crew had been an unexpected and, in many of her crew’s opinion, a most unwanted side-effect.

Janeway’s falling in love with the frighteningly brilliant, willful and arrogant young woman was even more unexpected.

While Seven’s reasoning for her actions didn’t always made sense to the people surrounding her, Janeway knew that it inevitably worked out in the end. Since Seven was now her friend, lover, and partner, sharing both her quarters and her life, the very least Janeway could do, was play along with the young woman’s simulation until the situation became further clarified.

She nodded politely to the holographic representative of Chakotay as he stood up, relinquishing the captain’s chair to her. His appearance, his body language, his expression, it was all so incredibly accurate. For a second, she had another wave of discomfort wash over her. He was a hologram, wasn’t he? She lowered her compact form into the command chair, and glanced uneasily over at the darkly handsome, broad-shouldered first officer who sank into his own seat next to her.

“Status?” she asked, for lack of anything better to say.

He shook his head, dark eyes crinkling as he smiled. “All systems normal,” he said. A tribal tattoo ran over his left brow to his temple, and the insignia at his collar denoted him as an ex-Maquis though at one time, he had indeed been a member of Starfleet before resigning to join the rebel group.

She nodded, trying hard to figure out what Seven was up to, musing that this was completely unlike the analytical, painfully blunt person the Borg had developed into. Seven found little value in the holodeck, disdaining its use most of the time as inefficient, and another example of the Human need for illusion. Janeway found herself going over the list of possibilities in her head. Was this some sort of Borg battle simulation Seven wanted to warn the captain about? Or perhaps it was an engineering technique she wanted to demonstrate. It occurred to Janeway that the young woman had been working on a new version of the slipstream technology for some time now, in the hopes that Voyager could make a more timely return to Earth. Could that be what she wanted to show the captain?

Janeway heard the hiss of the turbolift, and she turned to see the woman in question enter the bridge, striding purposely down the stairs to take up a position directly in front of the captain, hands linked formally behind her back. Standing almost six feet tall, with ice-blue eyes and blonde hair pulled back in an austere bun, Seven of Nine was a formidable figure. Assimilated at age six, the gray metallic implants on her face, one which framed her left eye, and the other that adorned her right cheek where the jawline terminated just under the earlobe, were stark reminders of her eighteen years with the Borg Collective. She was dressed in a brownish mesh outfit that covered her like a second skin, revealing generous curves and long legs.

“What is it, Seven?” Janeway asked curiously as beside her, Chakotay favored the ex-Borg with an inquiring look.

“I have completed my duties in astrometrics,” Seven informed the captain. “I am aware that your duty shift ends in two-point-six minutes.”

“And?” Janeway inquired tentatively though for some reason, she was experiencing a distinct sense of deja vu.

“I believe we now have an appropriate period of time for us to ‘make love’,” Seven offered. “Since this morning left us an insufficient amount.”

Janeway raised an eyebrow as she recognized where her feeling of repetition was coming from. Months before, when their romantic relationship was still in its infancy, this exact scenario had played out for real on the bridge. At the time, Janeway had been convinced it was possible to actually die from acute humiliation, but since she somehow survived the moment, she supposed it had only served to make her stronger. It had definitely made her more adaptable to her partner’s behavioral patterns, and while she didn’t know why Seven was replaying it now, she was quite willing to go along.

She leaned back in her chair, stretching out her legs to cross them at the ankles, and linking her hands comfortably across her belly. It was a completely different reaction from the one she had experienced originally. Then, profoundly mortified, she couldn’t hustle Seven off the bridge and into her ready room fast enough.

“Indeed.” Janeway managed to maintain a straight face. “Right now?”

“That would be acceptable,” Seven said, and reached up to the back of her neck where her outfit fastened, undoing it and pulling it off her shoulders and chest, revealing full breasts tipped with delicate pink nipples.

Bemused, Janeway blinked, swallowing hard as she glanced at the Chakotay hologram beside her. He seemed totally unmoved by the sight of the Borg undressing before their eyes. He was watching, but in a detached manner, as if the young woman were reading a not-very-interesting report to him.

“Uh, Seven,” the captain asked, smiling a bit nervously. “Do you want to tell me what this is about?”

Seven slipped her suit over her hips, dropping it to the floor where she kicked it off, the discarded outfit sailing through the air to drape over the operations console. The Harry Kim hologram casually brushed it aside, and continued to study his console professionally, leaving the suit crumpled on the deck like a monument to the real lieutenant’s unfulfilled, and unrewarded, crush on the Borg.

“Your fantasy,” Seven told her, standing gloriously naked before the captain’s eyes. “I wish to make it a reality … or as close as I am able.”

Janeway felt her eyebrows do their level best to crawl off her forehead. That had been the topic of an intimate discussion some weeks before, some pillow talk she barely remembered, about fantasies and that the captain’s most secret one was to make love in her command chair. It had been an amusing, delightfully silly conversation that clearly Seven had not forgotten in the least. It had not occurred to Janeway to ever take it into the holodeck. In fact, sexual fantasies utilizing holograms had always seemed somewhat … tawdry to the captain, cheapening the experience. Not the sort of thing that she, personally, would ever indulge in. Of course, this was not a hologram in front of her standing ready and waiting, a combination of scientific curiousty, and honest desire lending a sort of innocent wantonness to her narrow features. Seven of Nine was very much the real thing and Janeway felt her respiration rate increase as sudden desire shot through her, shocking her with its intensity.

“Oh,” she said huskily. “Thank you, Seven.” She glanced around at the holograms present. “Why the crew?”

Seven shrugged lightly. “This is the simulation the Doctor provided for my socialization lessons,” she explained. “Exercise 17: ‘Bridge Banter for Beginners’. Do you wish me to delete them from the scenario?”

Janeway considered that for a moment as she regarded her partner’s body with open appreciation. “I don’t know,” she responded finally, with an honesty she was unprepared for. “I’m not sure how comfortable I am with them here yet … I can’t deny there’s something appealing in having them present.”

“They are only limited holograms,” Seven reminded her as she leaned over the captain, placing her hands on the arms of the command chair, and bending down to kiss Janeway gently. “Not like the Doctor or Sek who are sentient holograms. These do not care how we act in front of them. They are not programmed to react.”

“I assumed that,” Janeway murmured, running her hands up Seven’s arms to her shoulders. “I just don’t want them to perform a running commentary on my technique as we proceed.”

“They will only speak when spoken to,” Seven told her, kissing her again. She frowned suddenly, drawing back a little. “I am unaware of the logistics needed to make love in your command chair. You must instruct me.”

Janeway laughed, torn between feeling incredibly aroused, and exceptionally silly. “To be honest, I’ve never really figured it out,” she admitted. “I guess we’ll have to make it up as we go along.”

“Very well,” Seven said. She raked her with a considering look. “Would you like me to undress you?”

“That’s probably a good place to start,” Janeway agreed.

She tried to relax in her chair as Seven knelt in front of her, starting with the captain’s boots, pulling them off and tossing them aside negligently. Janeway made a note of where they landed, in the awful event that she was required to grab them in a hurry. She lifted her hips a little while Seven grasped the waistband of the captain’s trousers along with her undergarments, and drew them down her legs. She swallowed back the sudden wild laugh that bubbled up inside her when she saw Seven hand the clothing to the Chakotay hologram, who neatly folded them and placed them tidily on the ledge between the captain’s chair and the first officer’s chair.

This is entirely too weird, Janeway thought, but she could not deny that it was keenly exciting at the same time. She forced herself not to think about what a ship’s counselor might say about all this.

Seven unfastened Janeway’s tunic, pushing it off her shoulders, and the captain shrugged out of it, lifting her arms up for Seven to pull off her sweater and bra. They too were handed to Chakotay who promptly added them to the rest of the uniform as if he was some sort of valet, waiting patiently for the next article of clothing to be handed to him, though he was doomed to disappointment. Janeway wondered idly if he would help them dress when they were finished, and had to suppress another laugh.

Nude, and feeling remarkably vulnerable, Janeway regarded Seven who was still kneeling before her, hands resting lightly on the top of the captain’s thighs. “Now what?” she asked huskily.

Seven raised an eyebrow. “I am thinking,” she informed her.

“Oh,” Janeway said.

Apparently, deciding that some physical contact would aid in her contemplation, Seven leaned forward, cupping Janeway’s face in her palms, and kissing her deeply, sliding her tongue between her lips to taste her. The captain made a small sound in the back of her throat, closing her eyes as she entwined her arms around Seven’s neck, kissing her back passionately. For a few moments, Janeway forgot about where she was, and it was a jolt when she opened her eyes, glancing inadvertently over Seven’s shoulder and seeing the back of the Paris hologram at the helm.

This was definitely going to take some getting used to.

Her attention abruptly returned to Seven who had trailed down over the captain’s chin, kissing her neck and shoulders, her fingers stroking her chest and stomach with delicious intent. Janeway raised her head to give her lover more access, raising her eyes to regard the bridge ceiling.

“Um, love,” she asked. “How long do we have the holodeck?”

“Four hours,” Seven murmured against her throat. “I made an arrangement with Lt. James, Ensign Hickman and Ensign Wildman to acquire their allotted time surrounding our regularly scheduled Velocity match.”

“Hmm,” Janeway noted thoughtfully. “I did wonder why you wanted to meet me two hours early. Did you have to tell them why?”

“No,” Seven replied and resumed her meandering path that was driving Kathryn to distraction. “They did not ask, and I did not volunteer the information.”

“Wonderful,” Janeway said softly as she arched into the blonde’s touch. “Annika, darling, I think I’ve come up with a way we can manage this.”

An intrigued expression on her narrow features, Seven stopped what she was doing and leaned back on her heels as Janeway got up from the command chair, then directed Seven to take a seat which the Borg obediently did, looking up at her keenly. Janeway straddled the taller woman, sitting across her lanky thighs with her knees jammed in between the arms of the chair and Seven’s legs. She rested her hands on Seven’s shoulders, looking down at her lover with a gentle smile.

“Would this work?” she asked.

“I believe it will,” Seven noted coolly, running her hands over the body resting on her. “This is indeed, more efficient and my access to you has improved greatly.”

“Access is definitely good,” Janeway said, smiling wantonly as she felt Seven’s fingertips on her skin, the Borg stroking her small breasts lightly at first, then with more authority, covering them with her palms. And best of all, when the captain opened her eyes, all she could see was the rear of the bridge yet the slight motion of the Kim and Tuvok holograms out of both corners of her gaze gave her the sense of her ship operating normally around her. It was outrageously stimulating, remarkably evocative and entirely too wicked for a country girl from a simple agricultural community in Indiana.

Janeway was loving every second of it.

“This was a wonderful idea,” she complimented, squirming luxuriously as Seven ran her hands liberally over her.

“I am glad you are enjoying it,” Seven said in a tone of satisfaction.

“I am,” Janeway allowed. She trembled as Seven leaned forward to kiss her breasts, the Borg swirling the tip of her tongue around the nipple gently while Janeway raked her hands restlessly through the long, golden hair. “Tell me, is the conference room replicated as well?” Remembering that Seven’s secret fantasy had involved a staff meeting and the conference table.

“It is prepared.” Seven mumbled around the soft flesh between her lips.

Janeway laughed.

“That’s what I love about you darling,” she said, catching her breath as pleasure rippled through her.

“Your amazing attention to detail.”

Captain Janeway stepped onto the bridge and strolled casually to her chair, utilizing all her indomitable will to prevent herself from blushing furiously. The incredible events of the previous evening had been seared indelibly into her mind, and she didn’t think she would ever be able to look at her chair, or the conference room table, the same way again. Or for that matter, the navigation helm, the stairs leading to her ready room, the fore viewscreen or the aft rail running behind the command seating.

Not to mention Chakotay.

She refused to look at him at all, maintaining a straight face with the greatest of difficulty as he wished her a good morning.

“Good morning,” she returned carefully. “What’s our status?”

He shook his head, dark eyes crinkling as he smiled. “All systems normal,” he said. “So how was your evening? Anything interesting happen?”

That was too much. She really shouldn’t have talked to him. Not so early in the morning before she had a chance to settle into the routine of the day. She should have known he would ask, to be polite if nothing else. Chakotay was always polite. Folding her uniform neatly as she made wild passionate love in her command chair had been perfectly in character.

To her great horror, she felt the giggles rise up in her with irresistible force and she covered her mouth with both hands. From the corner of her eye, she was acutely aware of his face growing alarmed as she snorted inadvertently. She glanced at his expression, realized that was a mistake she could not recover from, and helplessly burst out laughing, trying to hide her face in her hands. The harder she tried to curb it, the more she laughed, completely unable to contain it.

The rest of the crew, including Lt. Angela James at the port science station and Susan Nicoletti at the starboard engineering post, stared at her with various degrees of astonishment and growing amusement as the captain’s helpless mirth gradually infected them. Before long, the entire bridge crew, with the exception of Tuvok who was observing this with vague disapproval, had joined in on her merriment, adding their laughter to hers. Which of course, only incited Janeway to laugh harder until finally, gradually, the bridge crew all laughed themselves out, trailing off to a few assorted snickers, all considerably improved in mind and spirit.

“I’m sorry,” the captain managed to gasp to her first officer, sprawling in her chair, holding her ribs as tears trickled down her cheeks. “Please, don’t ask me what that was about. I honestly can’t even begin to tell you.”

“Don’t apologize,” Chakotay said, waving it off as he chuckled. “God knows, there are few better ways to start the day.”

“I know,” Janeway replied and with an effort, managed to straighten up in her chair. She carefully wiped the tears from her eyes before leaning over and patting Chakotay on the forearm. “Maybe we should start every day like this.”

And end every night like last night, her internal voice added with an evil hoot. Which threatened to set her off again though this time, she was better able to control herself.

“We’ll make it a regulation,” he said, grinning widely at her.

She realized suddenly that Voyager had become a lot more relaxed lately in its atmosphere. Perhaps it was her relationship with Seven that had provided her with an eye as to what was truly important but she knew that before this, she would have been appalled to have laughed so openly and honestly in front of her crew. Now, she couldn’t understand why. Certainly, it didn’t affect her crew in any way other than to raise their morale. She made a keen-eyed circuit of the bridge, noting that her people had returned to work immediately, professionally, yet with decidedly cheerful expressions, smiles that lit their gaze and seemed to make the routine a little easier to accept.

Perhaps the old saying was right after all. A happy captain made for a happy ship, and the one thing she couldn’t deny was that she was happier than she had ever been in her life, even with being lost in the Delta Quadrant. For that, she would forever be grateful to the tall, cool blonde who had agreed to become her partner.

“What do we know about this area of space?” she asked Chakotay, smiling quietly as she forced herself to focus on work.

He touched the controls at his monitor which resided on the arm of the chair. “We are coming up to an area of space which is inhabited by a people the Borg call Species 1365, the L’Borna. Technology is barely beyond warp stage, and they are just now colonizing the surrounding systems. According to Seven, they’re an ‘unremarkable’ species.”

“Not considered useful enough to be added to the Collective, you mean,” Janeway said. She sighed a little. “I suppose one must give thanks for small mercies.”

“It does make a body think that being unremarkable is not such a bad thing,” Chakotay agreed. He made a few notations. “Do you want to stop by, see what they have in the way of supplies? Maybe try for some R&R?”

Janeway considered it. The truth was Voyager was in the best shape it had been since it had left Federation space. A trip to the Beta Quadrant, where an advanced culture had completely overhauled the ship, had strengthened the hull and tweaked both propulsion and life support to new levels of efficiency. Then, a more recent encounter with an ancient device had transported Chakotay, Seven and the Chief Engineer, B’Elanna Torres back to the Alpha Quadrant. For whatever reason, all three had decided to return to Voyager, to the vessel they considered home, and in the process, had brought back a brand new runabout stuffed to the brim with supplies and upgraded equipment, including enough materials to fully restore the replication system.

Captain Janeway had determined that although they were cut off from the Federation, Voyager would continue to explore space, seek out new civilizations and boldly go wherever and whenever possible in the finest traditions of Starfleet. This seemed like another one of those occasions, yet, at the same time, it was not practical for them to stop and study every single group of aliens they came across. Otherwise, the 60 years they were looking at to reach the Alpha Quadrant could easily turn into 60 centuries. She had to make a decision which would be best for the ship and her crew, though she did allow herself a few seconds of quiet enjoyment at the fact that it was not life-threatening or monumental or even particularly significant in the overall scheme of things. It was a purely scientific decision. Was it worth stopping to study this civilization or should they continue their journey to the next, no doubt, more interesting group of systems?

Janeway pursed her lips. Seven had said these aliens were unremarkable. There were too many remarkable things in space to waste time with the ordinary.

“Let’s bypass this one,” she said. “Why shake up their society when we don’t have to?”

He grinned. “I thought you liked shaking up societies,” he said in a low voice.

She eyed him admonishingly, though with a hint of a smile on her face. Teasing her on her own bridge now? “I’m settling down,” she said.

“Ah,” he replied. “Seven’s domesticating influence.”

“Is there a reason you wanted to stop by these planets?” she asked, ignoring the last because she felt it was uncomfortably close to the truth.

He shrugged lightly. “Not especially but…” he shot a look at the front of the bridge where the helm resided and lowered his voice even further. “B’Elanna and I were hoping for a little R&R together soon.”

Janeway felt her eyebrow raise and hoped she didn’t look as disapproving as she felt. Voyager’s chief engineer had just broken up with Tom Paris, the ship’s navigator, and apparently had discovered a new closeness with the first officer, both of whom had been with the Maquis when the captain had first encountered them. In fact, it had been Chakotay’s resistance cell that her vessel had been pursuing when both ships had been swept into the Delta Quadrant by the Caretaker’s transport beam.

Janeway liked Chakotay, and trusted him implicitly, never once regretting the decision that made him her first officer when Voyager’s violent arrival in the Delta Quadrant had killed his predecessor. He was strong, handsome, honest, and amazingly courageous. Truth be told, if circumstances had been a little different, she and he might have actually reached a romantic understanding themselves.

But she was also very fond of Tom Paris, and it was her steadfast belief that he and the feisty B’Elanna Torres belonged together. It was not her place, of course, to interfere with the love lives of her crew, but she did try to help out where she could. In this case, if it meant a little diverting of a planned R&R together, where was the harm? It would keep the way open for Paris to make up with the Klingon and with any luck, the helmsman would take advantage of it.

“Sorry,” she said, trying not to smile. “We’d need a better reason than that to delay our voyage.”

“Captain, long range sensors are picking up an inter-system distress call,” Harry Kim said suddenly from his place at ops. “Apparently there is a group of L’Borna ships attempting to divert an asteroid from striking their planet. One of the ships has been damaged and is drifting directly into its path.”

Janeway took a breath. All right, so they would have to stop by after all, she thought ruefully. That didn’t mean Chakotay and B’Elanna would get their shot at R&R.

“Tom, set a course to the system,” she said, feeling the excited tingle go through her as it always did when Voyager leapt into action. “Lt. Kim, scan the damaged ship, see if they require our assistance or if they can handle it themselves. Tuvok, run an analysis on the asteroid. Do they have the capability to stop it?”

Her crew set to work with an air of expectation and a subdued excitement. Perhaps things had been a bit too quiet lately. They were, after all, still the sort of people who would go out into space just to see what they could see, so a little bit of action was a welcome distraction.

Within moments, the answers were being presented to her.

“Captain, they lack transporter capabilities. One of the other ships is trying to get close enough to dock in order to rescue the crew from the damaged ship, but they don’t seem to be having much luck. It’s tumbling too randomly.” Harry said, his voice rising a little at the end. Even after five years, the young man fresh out of the Academy when he joined Voyager still displayed a bit of greenness on occasion.

The security chief, with his steady calm, was a marked contrast to the operations officer. “The asteroid is 9 kilometers by 13 kilometers in shape, and 20 kilometers long,” Tuvok recited coolly. “It is considerably larger than the capabilities of L’Borna technology to destroy it or even divert it significantly. The projected course has it impacting on their home planet in 12 days which will completely wipe out all life on that world.”

Janeway found herself looking at her first officer. Chakotay raised a brow sardonically. “Talk about shaking up a society,” he noted.

“Considerably,” Janeway agreed. She stood up. “Lt. Kim, open a channel to the L’Borna.”

She unconsciously straightened, shoulders back, head raised proudly as the fore viewscreen flickered to reveal the anxious features of a L’Borna space-goer. “I’m Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation starship Voyager. We were passing by and noticed your difficulty. Can we offer assistance?”

The L’Borna were a tall, slim race with narrow features and full manes of hair streaked with orange and black on a predominantly brownish base. The eyes were large and wide, greenish-gold with slitted pupils and there was a faint hint of whiskers around the nose, which ran up to blend with the skull ridge over the brows.

Cats, Janeway thought idly. They looked like big cats. Too bad she was a dog person. Cats always tended to make her sneeze.

The L’Borna, clearly startled as anyone would be in … his? … position, nodded with amazing aplomb. “We give thanks Voyager,” he said formally. “I am Marshal L’Nair of the L’Borna task force. My ship is the Klews. One of our brother vessels has drifted into the path of the killer rock.”

“Send your rescue vessel clear,” Janeway instructed. “We’ll be able to pull the damaged ship out of there with a tractor beam.”

“Understood,” L’Nair responded.

The viewscreen flickered again to return to a view of space, of the looming mass of rock bearing down on the small ships in its path. One of the tiny vessels broke off, flying quickly to safety, leaving the other drifting helplessly before the behemoth.

“Tom,” she said tightly. “Get them out of there.”

“Understood,” Lt. Paris said, hands moving swiftly over his helm. Voyager leaped forward, a tractor beam shooting out from its stern to scoop up the small vessel dwarfed by the Federation vessel which in turn, was a mere speck against the mountain tumbling towards them.

Janeway felt her hairline dampen as they scooted out of the path of destruction with bare seconds to spare. That was a great deal closer than she would have liked but glancing around the bridge she realized she was the only one apprehensive about it. The rest seemed to take it in stride, having complete faith in their ship and in her.

“Captain, we’re being hailed,” Harry said.

“On screen.”

L’Nair appeared, eyes shining. “Our gratitude, Voyager,” he said. “If there is anything we can offer?”

“We were glad to help,” Janeway responded. “Marshall L’Nair, our sensors indicate that the asteroid is on a collision course with your planet?” She spoke delicately. Her experience with diplomacy dictated that she tread lightly when telling a people they didn’t have what it took to do the job. “Could we offer assistance there as well?”

L’Nair stared at her a moment. “Your capabilities are far beyond ours,” he said flatly, clearly uninterested in pride when it came to this threat to his homeworld. “Can you destroy this thing? Already, several advance meteors have impacted our planet, causing great damage and suffering, but nothing that my people cannot recover from. This however, will kill our world and none of our scientists have come up with a way for us to stop it. Yet we must try, even if it means ramming it with our ships.”

Janeway made a gesture behind her back, indicating to Harry that he was to cut the audio, then glanced at Tuvok who had been continually scanning the asteroid.

“It is comprised of common elements,” he replied. “A typical representative of the remains of an exploded planetoid. Two photon torpedoes should be able to break it into small pieces that their energy beam weapons can safely destroy.”

Janeway nodded. It would be quicker of course, for Voyager to use their phasers to vaporize the whole thing entirely but it was possible to help too much. Most species liked to participate in their own salvation whenever possible and tended to feel a little resentful of some superior lifeform coming in and solving all their problems with ease. Humans included.

She turned back to the screen as Harry resumed the channel. It was all very smooth and well-orchestrated and she allowed herself a second of prideful assessment of her crew.

“Marshall L’Nair, we have weapons that can break up the asteroid, but your vessels will have to take care of the smaller pieces,” she told him with an earnest expression.

“We will,” L’Nair responded, nostrils flaring in anticipation. “Our vessels are the finest of the L’Borna fleet. If you can strike a blow at this killer, we will finish it off.”

Janeway raised a brow at the statement and tried not to smile. “Stand by, Klews,” she said and turned back to Chakotay. “Do it.”

Voyager took a position immediately below the asteroid and fired torpedoes at precise points calculated to within millimeters by Tuvok to cause the most damage, shattering the chunk of rock into many smaller pieces. The L’Borna leaped into action with unrestrained glee, darting around the space debris, each other and, on far too many harrowing occasions, Voyager herself as they made sure nothing would get by them to further endanger their home. Janeway sat in her chair, gripping the arms of it with white knuckles as time and again, the tiny ships skimmed far too close to the hull of her precious vessel in their wild strafing runs, firing their beams indiscriminately. Twice, the Federation vessel had to use their tractor beam to reach out and snag two of the task force when their enthusiasm in destroying the fragments led perilously close to disastrous collisions.

Finally, when the L’Borna started going after meteors that were on trajectories that in no way threatened to come anywhere close to their planet, she decided to call a stop to it, hailing the lead ship to wish them farewell.

“Marshall L’Nair,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “It was our honor to make your acquaintance.”

“Captain, you must return with us to our planet,” he said, eyes wide in excitement. “Such a celebration has never been seen on L’Borna. We shall be received as the greatest heroes of all time.”

“I’m sure,” Janeway allowed with a smile. “But we must resume our journey.”

“I will not take ‘no’ for an answer, Captain,” he said firmly.

He meant it too, Janeway decided an hour later after having exhausted every polite, and less than polite way of getting out of it. Honestly, these people had the Ferengi beat cold in coming up with offers, and counter proposals that inevitably sucked the intended target into doing exactly what they wanted, while making it sound like it was the other person’s idea. It would have taken a far better negotiator than she to avoid this request, she thought crankily, as her ship dutifully followed the L’Borna task-force back to their homeworld.

“Don’t feel bad,” Chakotay said, leaning over. “They really do need help with the damage the prior meteors caused on their world, and it sounds like the celebration is going to be incredible. Consider it a mission of mercy.”

“How do I let myself get talked into these things?” she grumbled.

He laughed. “From where I sat,” he noted. “He could have talked any one of us into buying a piece of that meteor as a souvenir.”

Janeway crossed her arms across her chest and glowered at the screen.

The gigantic crater in the earth stretched out for almost a kilometer in diameter, still smoking lightly from the hunk of rock buried deep at the bottom. Seven of Nine was suitably impressed, as was chief engineer B’Elanna Torres, who was standing beside her. A solid woman with dark hair and eyes, Torres’s Klingon heritage, as well as her Human Latina influence, infused her with a fiery disposition that more than compensated for her small size.

“They were damned lucky this missed the main part of the coast,” B’Elanna noted dryly.

“The area is lightly populated,” Seven agreed coolly. “Had this struck the L’Borna’s capital, the death toll would have been staggering and the city completely destroyed.” She raised an eyebrow. “However, in that case, there would be no pressing need to replace the power plant.”

“That’s right, Seven,” B’Elanna said, shooting her a sideways glance. “Always look on the bright side.” She studied the readings on her tricorder and then cast a judicious glance at the ridge nearby. She nudged Seven and pointed at a flat area at the bottom. “I think that would be the best place to build it.”

“I concur,” Seven said. She looked back at the rest of the construction crew who were waiting patiently. Comprised of Voyager crew and L’Borna engineers, they were ready and willing to start work immediately. The power plant which provided the energy for the greater part of the east coast had been destroyed in the meteor shower which had preceded the discovery of the planet-killer headed toward them. It had been determined that rebuilding it was of the greatest priority. “What is the estimated time of completion?”

B’Elanna squinted as she followed her gaze. “Constructing the shell of the building is no problem,” she said. “We can get that up in a matter of hours using tractor beams from the runabout. The replacement equipment is ready to be transported in immediately. Hooking it all up and making sure it’s operating properly is going to take the bulk of the time. Two, maybe three days. Until then, the L’Borna will just have to operate on their emergency reserves.”

“They are an efficient species,” Seven said approvingly. “Well prepared for emergencies. Perhaps the Borg were premature in determining they were unremarkable.”

“I bet they’d be thrilled to hear that,” B’Elanna noted. “Be sure to tell them.”

Seven studied her a moment. “You are being facetious,” she said finally.

“What was your first clue?” the engineer snorted as they walked down the slope towards the rest of the engineering team.

“The tone of your voice,” Seven responded promptly. “The way your eyebrow raises which affects the angle of the ridges on your forehead, the twitch at the corner of your mouth, the…”

“All right,” B’Elanna interrupted. “I get the picture.” She shook her head and focused her attention on L’Maran, the native who was heading up the project. “I’ve mapped out the best place for our transporters to be able to function most efficiently,” she told him. “Whenever you give the word, we can start.”

“Please,” he said. “Let us begin right away.”

Since Voyager would be providing most of the technology needed to rebuild so quickly, the L’Borna presence was token at best, but he apparently appreciated the offer, polite in both gestures and mannerisms, fairly radiating gratitude to them. Seven found these beings to be a reasonably acceptable race, though she was aware B’Elanna found them bland and unassuming. ‘Milk toast’ was actually how the chief engineer had described them. Seven had been required to look that up in the database to discover what it actually meant. It was not complimentary.

The engineering team set to work, constructing the building first. It went quickly, but consisted of a great deal more manual labor than Seven was used to. The day was hot, the sun shining directly down on the workers in the clearing, and when the call came to break for lunch, Seven was more than willing to sit down on a convenient beam to rest. It was unfamiliar work, the Borg considered as she took stock of the unusual aches in her body, but somehow gratifying. She was observing her palms with interest when B’Elanna plopped down beside her with two ration packs.

“Something wrong, Seven?” she asked.

“I have developed marks on my hand,” Seven responded. She held out her right appendage out for B’Elanna’s inspection.

“Ouch,” B’Elanna said, wincing as she saw the blisters that had formed on Seven’s palm. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.” She placed the ration packs on the beam, and scooted off for the medikit.

“They are uncomfortable,” Seven noted as B’Elanna repaired her hand with a dermal regenerator.

“You’re just not used to hard work,” B’Elanna responded. “Too much button pushing up there in the astrometrics lab, and not enough physical exertion in engineering. You should come on down and work with me more often. That would toughen you up.”

Seven raised an eyebrow. “There was a time when you did not want my presence in engineering at all,” she reminded her, mindful of the many conflicts they had engaged in when the Borg had first come aboard Voyager.

B’Elanna was quiet while she finished healing the blisters, then shut the regenerator off. “Yeah, well,” she said finally, in a thoughtful tone, totally unlike her usual brisk manner. “You’ve sort of grown on me, Seven.” She flashed her a grin, and Seven found that she was returning the smile without thinking about it.

“Would you call me Annika?” she said abruptly.

B’Elanna paused as she passed Seven a ration pack, eyeing her somberly. “You don’t ask just anyone to call you that, do you?” she allowed with surprise.

“No, I do not,” Seven said, wondering why she had decided on this course of action, but nonetheless, it felt correct. Though Annika Hansen was the name accorded her at birth, it was not one she had used since age six. “In truth, only the Captain has ever referred to me by my original designation.”

B’Elanna blinked, took a breath. “Then I’m flattered, Se—Annika,” she replied, opening up her ration pack and sliding out a tray of Starfleet Ration #473. Mashed potatoes, turkey, dressing and carrots automatically heated when the packet was unsealed. “Names mean a lot to Klingons. Thank you.”

“You are welcome,” Seven responded, though why B’Elanna was thanking her was somewhat unclear. She opened her own rations, SR #502; potatoes, corn, apple crumb, and two brown pieces of something she could not identify. “What is this?”

B’Elanna glanced over, already chewing her first mouthful of reconstituted potatoes. “I think it’s fried chicken,” she mumbled around her food.

“‘Chicken?’” Seven regarded her dubiously.

B’Elanna snickered. “Well, chicken-flavored protein shaped into pieces,” she elaborated. “What’s the matter, ‘Nik, don’t like chicken?”

Seven took note of B’Elanna’s immediate diminution of her name, assessed it with careful deliberation and decided she did not really mind, though it would take her time to learn to answer to it. It was certainly a considerable improvement on what B’Elanna had originally called her back when she first joined Voyager. Some of the Klingon words Seven had never been able to translate.

“I enjoy chicken,” Seven responded after taking a bite, chewing gingerly and swallowing. “However, I am unsure that is what this is supposed to be. It bears little resemblance to the protein I replicate.”

“Well, that’s the appeal of ration packs,” B’Elanna told her.

Seven realized that the Klingon/Human hybrid was being facetious once again, and sighed as she consumed the rest of her pack, not letting any go to waste. She assumed her problem was that while in the Alpha Quadrant, Kathryn’s mother, Gretchen Janeway, had taken the time to teach Seven how to properly cook meals utilizing replicated ingredients. As a result, the Borg had been doing all the cooking for herself and the captain whenever possible, having discovered a quiet enjoyment in preparing and consuming good food.

It made having to eat this a very unpalatable alternative.

She placed the empty tray and wrapping in the small disposal container where it was instantly vaporized to its molecular components, and looked at B’Elanna. The engineer was taking advantage of the remaining allotment of time for their lunch break to stretch out on the ground, and stare up at the blue sky dotted with fluffy white clouds. She had a piece of grass stuck between her teeth, chewing it idly as she linked her hands behind her head.

Unobtrusively, Seven picked a piece of grass for herself and tasted it, finding it only a minor improvement over her ration pack. “What are you doing?” she asked finally.

B’Elanna grinned. “Finding shapes in the clouds,” she said. She raised an arm and pointed at one. “That looks like a targe.”

“Indeed,” Seven responded, intrigued. She lay down beside the engineer, and followed the direction of her pointed finger. “I do not see it.”

“It’s an imagination thing,” B’Elanna explained, with none of her usual impatience coloring her tone. “You have to sort of let your mind wander, and associate the shape of the cloud with other things.”

“Why?” Seven asked.

B’Elanna shrugged. “It’s fun,” she said. “Most people start doing it when they’re kids. Didn’t you ever do it before you were assimilated?”

Seven thought hard, trying to remember. “I am unable to recall,” she said finally.

She was surprised when B’Elanna reached over, and patted her on her belly sympathetically. “That’s okay, ‘Nik,” she said. “It’s relaxing to do it as an adult as well.”

“All right,” Seven said.

For the remainder of the rest period, Seven tried to decipher shapes from the random movement of the clouds above her, squinting at the fluffy masses of water vapor as they were carried along on the wind. She did not quite succeed, but she did find it soothing to lie in the grass, looking up at the sky. She could smell the earthy odor of growing things around her, the faint trace of ozone from the crater, and the dust from the construction area. A low murmur of conversation from the other workers reached her ears, overlaid by the thin whine from insects, and the bright twittering of birds in the nearby trees. A faint breeze brushed against her face, and the warmth of the sun penetrated to her bones, making her drowsy.

She compared it to the Indiana simulation Kathryn occasionally ran in the holodeck where they would take walks, and realized that there was a difference between that and this real planet. Subtle, elusive, but still distinct. Perhaps it was the difference in Earth versus L’Borna, but Seven did not think so.

It was more defined than that. She could easily determine the different shades of green in the foliage, and the blue of the sky of this planet as opposed to the one where Kathryn had been born. No, it wasn’t the difference between worlds, it was the difference between simulation and reality. She was quite intrigued by this, and continued to ponder it even after the lunch break was over and they had returned to work. She found herself wondering if Kathryn had ever noticed it, and if the fantasy programmed for the holodeck two days before had been as good as the reality would have been.

She would have to ask Kathryn at the first opportunity.

With rapidly diminishing patience, Captain Janeway regarded the L’Borna sitting in front of her. The ruling Council had been trying to press various items on her for the past hour in gratitude for the Federation’s assistance, items that she thought they could ill afford to give away, and Voyager had absolutely no use for. It was taking all of her negotiating skills to arrange a mutually beneficial package of thanks which would save face for them, and prevent Janeway from having to accept supplies she did not want or need.

It was extremely difficult. While the L’Borna matched the Ferengi in convoluted bargaining, that was where the similarity ended. Apparently, it was a mark of honor to be able to give more than one received, the complete opposite of the big-eared merchants back in the Alpha Quadrant. Janeway was somewhat horrified to realize she was longing for some good old-fashioned selfishness as she went over the list of gifts being pressed on her, making sure they hadn’t slipped in the entire contents of the city treasury when she wasn’t looking.

“This is acceptable,” she said finally, looking up to meet the gold-green gaze of the L’Borna ruling council.

Beside her, the Emergency Medical Assistant Hologram, Sek, watched this with interest as beyond her, the ship’s cook and all round Delta Quadrant alien-of-all-trades, Neelix, heaved a sigh of relief that Janeway could hear distinctly … and hoped her hosts could not. She realized that this had gone on for so long that even the Talaxian had begun to think they would never get out of here, and he had been fidgeting ever since the sounds of the celebration outside the palace penetrated through the large windows of the palace. It was promised to be one of the more extravagant parties they had ever encountered but then, Janeway reminded herself, it wasn’t every day an entire planet found itself saved from the brink of extinction. Now that the negotiations were over, she could accord the crew some shore leave, assured that they were in for a good time.

L’Branan, the counsel’s Marshal, nodded in grave acceptance. “We will never forget the name of Voyager,” she said, coming to her feet. “It will be passed down to our children, and our children’s children for as long as our species shall exist. Whatever we have will always be yours for the asking.”

“You have been exceedingly generous in your gifts,” Janeway said. “We will cherish them forever.”

There were a few more pleasantries exchanged and when the formalities were over, Janeway took the opportunity to find a quiet spot to contact the ship. Chakotay’s voice replied promptly.

“Everything going well, Captain?”

“So far,” she agreed. “The L’Borna are assembling a collection of gifts in the main square to present to us in a formal ceremony two days from now when the power plant comes back on line. I think it would be better if we took them back on the runabout rather than try to beam them up. I’ll keep the Mississippi here for the rest of our stay. In the meantime, you can start preparing for shore leave.”

“That might not be a good idea, Captain,” he said. “Long range sensors are picking up the formation of an ion storm, and we know that will screw up transporter signals at the best of times.”

“Ion storm?” Janeway repeated.

So much for shore leave, she thought with a frown. The deep space storms had an unpredictable manner, and while they did not affect planetary bodies, they inevitably played havoc with various ship systems if one was unfortunate enough to be caught in the heart of one, even a ship as technologically advanced as Voyager.

“I think you should move the ship out of range, just to be safe,” she told him. “In fact, continue on to the next group of systems, and we’ll catch up to you in a few days. That way, there’s no backtracking, and we won’t continue to lose time off our journey. I really don’t want to offend the L’Borna by leaving without their gifts.”

“If that’s what you want,” Chakotay responded, and she could hear the surprise in his voice.

“I think it’s the most prudent course of action,” she said. “I’m going to send the bulk of the away teams back to the ship. What little is left to do here can be handled by myself, Neelix, Sek, Seven, B’Elanna and the pilot of the runabout. Initiate the general recall immediately, before the transporters are affected.” She held her breath slightly, wondering if he had noticed her deliberate omission.

“Understood,” Chakotay said.

If he noticed that Tom Paris, who had been assigned to pilot the Mississippi, was being left behind as well, he didn’t comment on it. Janeway wondered briefly if he hadn’t put it together, or if he didn’t care. In any event, with some luck and a little bit of judicious help, Tom and B’Elanna might have an opportunity to patch things up.

Pleased with herself, she keyed the channel closed and looked at the rest of her crew who were remaining behind. “That is, unless you two want to return to the ship rather than stay here?” she asked, somewhat belatedly.

Neelix shook his head. Short, stocky, his speckled head, tufted sideburns and golden eyes making him resemble a Terran warthog, he had proven to be a valuable addition to her crew, though his breezy manner sometimes belied the deeper person she knew he was. “Not me, Captain,” he said. “I like the L’Borna, and I’m looking forward to their party. Maybe I can pick up some tips for the next celebration we have on Voyager.”

“What of you, Sek?” Janeway eyed the newest member of her crew curiously.

The hologram had been created to assist the Doctor in sickbay so that he could perform a serious operation on Seven of Nine, and her matrix was based on their fellow crewmember Kes, the Ocampa who had left the ship to continue her evolution into a higher lifeform. What had started as purely a technological project to upgrade sickbay had turned out to have tangled ethical and moral implications regarding the sentience of holograms. There was a time when it seemed that they would have to delete the program altogether, simply to avoid the possible implications of creating sentient beings for the sole purpose of serving the crew. Finally, Janeway had decided to keep the matrix active, and accorded both the Doctor and Sek full crewmember status, though she had been careful to put in place protocols that would prevent her from ever having to make a similar decision in the future.

Sek no longer resembled the Ocampa in her form. Her short, shaggy mass of hair and her soft eyes retained their light coloration, but her height, and body structure had increased, while she had been accorded more Human features, particularly around the ears. The personality still had the flavor of Kes however, calm, rational and very kind, a marked contrast to the sarcastic Doctor’s matrix.

“I would very much like to remain, Captain,” she responded. The voice was also still Kes’s, lyrical, almost velvet in tone. “I am finding my first away mission to be a fascinating experience.”

The engineering crew had built a portable emitter for the hologram which allowed her to leave the ship. This was its first test and so far, it was working remarkably well.

Janeway nodded. “I thought you might like staying,” she admitted. Though the hologram was not her friend Kes, the captain had found herself warming quickly to the personality. It was an odd concept, being friends with a hologram. A living hologram, she reminded herself pointedly. It had made her re-evaluate her relationship with the Doctor, as well.

She touched her comm badge once more. “Janeway to Paris,” she said.

“Paris here.”

“Lieutenant, what’s your status?” she asked.

“Chakotay’s beamed up most of the away team,” he said. “Construction on the building was completed a couple of hours ago, and most of the equipment has been transported in. B’Elanna and Seven are starting to align the power transfer relays now.”

“Bring the runabout here, and land it in the main square,” Janeway said. “I want all my people here in the city at night.”

There was a hesitation on the other end. “Uh, Captain, maybe you should instruct Lt. Torres as to what you want yourself?”

Janeway took a breath. That made sense. B’Elanna had been quite adamant about Paris being in her immediate vicinity recently, and she had not warmed at all as time went by. It had been hard enough convincing her to accept him as part of her engineering team, and Janeway had been forced to make it an order, explaining that the chief engineer would need the best pilot they had to manipulate the large building blocks with the runabout. It was only with grudging compliance that the woman finally obeyed. Since her breakup, the hybrid was apparently allowing her more aggressive Klingon side greater dominance, but Janeway wasn’t sure if that was a good thing. She didn’t really have a lot of experience commanding a full Klingon warrior, and all that implied.

“I’ll do that, Tom,” she agreed. She closed the channel and keyed her communicator again. “Janeway to Torres.”

“Torres here.”

“B’Elanna, Lt. Paris has been instructed to bring you and Seven into the city for the evening,” she said, her tone brokering no allowance for debate. “Consider yourselves off active duty as of this moment, and head for the runabout.”

There was a silence, and Janeway knew B’Elanna was keeping herself from arguing, clamping down on the first outburst that she undoubtedly wanted to say.

“Aye, Captain.”

Janeway signed off with a hint of satisfaction on her face. All her little chicks were coming in to roost, and with a little effort, this might actually work out after all.

Seven walked off the runabout with the beginnings of a splitting headache. The entire trip from the outlying area had witnessed Torres and Paris trading spiteful insults and vicious innuendo, the small cockpit’s atmosphere dense enough to cut with a knife. She could not understand why Kathryn felt the pair belonged together. Their antagonism was clear, and displayed in the most personally hurtful of ways. Seven had learned far more about their personal habits in the last hour than she had ever cared to know.

She felt a little better when she saw Kathryn standing at one end of the town square, the slim, compact form in its trim red and black uniform a dignified contrast to the colorful garb sported by the celebrating L’Borna who thronged the surrounding area. Seven wanted to run to the captain, leap into her arms and never let go, though of course that was impossible. Even if Seven’s greater size and strength did not completely flatten the slighter Janeway, it was understood that a certain decorum was expected by them both while in public. Forcing herself to walk sedately through the crowd, the Borg drank in the sight of her partner and tried to ignore Tom and B’Elanna who continued to bicker behind her.

Standing beside the captain, Neelix and Sek spoke quietly together. Voyager had just left orbit, and Seven knew that the current six were the only Voyager crewmembers remaining on the planet. If the rest seemed concerned by this, they didn’t show it so Seven tried very hard to disguise her unease at being away from the ship, from her home, surrounded by all these strangers. However, when she was close enough, she put her hand on the captain’s elbow, utilizing their secret signal to indicate she wished to offer an affectionate gesture to Janeway, or more importantly, to recieve one.

Unfortunately, the captain took no note of it as she gathered the group, directing them back to the palace. Seven understood that meant the captain did not feel comfortable about an affectionate gesture at the moment, so she released her grip and followed behind the rest, depression seeping through her like a grey cloud. She lagged behind a little as they went into the palace where they had been accorded guest quarters, and was greatly dismayed to discover she was expected to room with Torres and Sek, rather than with Janeway. Apparently, it was a custom that the leader be held apart from her followers, and Janeway had been given a large suite where she was to stay by herself.

By this time, Seven was thoroughly unhappy, and sat on the edge of the low couch in solitary misery. Sek took the opportunity to occupy herself at a console in the corner of the room, studying her padds, delving deeper into the culture of the L’Borna, while B’Elanna took advantage of the lavish facilities accorded the three Voyager females, cleaning up from her day on the construction site. Seven contemplated the case of Torres and Lt. Paris, wondering how two people who had been so in love, could change so quickly into enemies. It was a frightening thought. Was it possible that Kathryn would stop loving her? If she did, would the captain then hate her? Would Kathryn then want Seven to stay as far away from her as possible? How could Seven possibly survive that?

When B’Elanna finally returned from her ablutions, Seven was on the verge of tears.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” the chief engineer asked, staring at her in bemusement.

“I do not know,” Seven said honestly. “I am unhappy.”

B’Elanna considered her for a few moments. “Aw, we’re both just a little depressed,” she said, not unkindly. “I know exactly what we need to get over it. Let’s go see what this town has in the way of fun. That’s some party they got going out there, and it would be a shame to waste it.”

Sek looked up at that, a faintly disturbed expression crossing her face. “Do you think that’s wise?” she asked. “I’m positive the captain wants us to remain in the vicinity.”

“What are you, our mother?” B’Elanna responded tartly. “Does this mean you don’t want to come?”

“I believe I will stay here,” Sek allowed. “I am following an intriguing line of research. Are you aware that not all the L’Borna are in favor of space travel? That there are many factions on the planet, and the recent potential catastrophe tipped the balance of power to a faction known as the L’Bree?”

“No, I didn’t know that. That’s absolutely fascinating, Sek,” B’Elanna responded and Seven knew from the tone that the Klingon was being deeply sarcastic, though the hologram did not appear to notice.

“It is indeed,” Sek went on. “Would you like me to make a copy of the data for your own research?”

“Yeah, you do that,” B’Elanna said, grabbing Seven by the arm and hustling her out the door. “In the meantime, Seven and I are going to paint the town.”

“‘Paint the town’?” Seven asked as B’Elanna dragged her out of the palace.

“Have a little fun, Seven,” B’Elanna explained. “Some R&R.”

“Should we not inform the captain?” Seven queried as they strode down the steps of the palace.

B’Elanna shrugged. “We’re adults and we’re off duty,” she said. “We’re perfectly capable of looking after ourselves. Come on Seven, what possible trouble could we get into?”

“Are you being facetious again?” Seven asked suspiciously.

B’Elanna just laughed as she led the way off the palace grounds and into the city proper. The streets were illuminated dimly with a minimum of lights because of the damaged power plant but the people themselves seemed to be carrying on as usual. They packed the streets in a seething display of noise and music, a sea of color and celebration. With unerring instinct, the chief engineer wound her way through the mob and managed to find a cozy little tavern just off the main drag. Seven soon found herself seated at a small table in the corner of a busy taproom, a huge mug of golden liquid in front of her.

“What is this?” Seven asked, regarding it with trepidation.

B’Elanna had just finished draining hers and with a grunt of satisfaction, thumped the mug onto the table top and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, belching loudly.

“The L’Borna call it mead,” she said. “It’s got a nice little kick. Have you ever been drunk, Seven?”

Seven considered the question carefully. “Is that like being ‘eaten’?” she offered finally, in a tentative tone. “Kathryn refers to certain of our sexual positions in terms of ingesting nutrition.”

“No, nothing like that,” B’Elanna protested, looking a bit squeamish. “Damn, will you get your mind off sex for a few minutes, Seven? I mean have you ever been intoxicated.”

“Ah,” Seven said, finally understanding. “No.”

“Then, this will be a new experience, ‘Nik,” B’Elanna said with a certain satisfaction. “You have to learn to live a little.”

“What is the purpose of doing this?” Seven asked.

“It’s fun,” B’Elanna stated in a positive tone. “Drink up, Annika.”

Gingerly, Seven swallowed, then took another when the first did not immediately send her into terminal spasms. She found this ‘mead’ to be a flavor different than anything she had ever experienced, sweet and light, yet with a spicy undertone. The sensation it produced was remarkable, as if a fire had been lit inside her belly, spreading throughout her and producing a rosy sort of glow about everything. It was somewhat similar to her reaction to the wine Kathryn had introduced her to, but this was a great deal more intense, and extremely pleasant.

“I like it,” she told the chief engineer.

“Good,” B’Elanna replied, grinning widely.

Being the only non-L’Borna in the tavern, they had of course, been identified immediately as being from the alien vessel which had helped save the planet. The management of the bar refused any offers of payment right from the start, which was just as well since neither of them had acquired any form of currency prior to leaving the palace. However, the rest of the patrons were also aware of them, and it seemed that while the L’Borna’s innate politeness kept them from approaching the two women on a personal basis, several surrounding groups of people were more than glad to pay for their drinks. As a result, no sooner did the two Voyager crewmembers finish one round of the tart, fruity-like liquor, than another was immediately placed before them. It was not long before Seven and B’Elanna were sprawled in their chairs, regarding each other with the most warm sort of amiable benevolence.

“Y’know, ‘Nik,” B’Elanna drawled. “You got more guts than anyone I know. It takes a real warrior to have bedded Captain Kathryn Janeway of the starship Voyager.”

Seven burped, and blinked owlishly at her. “How so?” she asked curiously. “It was simply a matter of positioning myself in her bed, and awaiting her eventual arrival.”

B’Elanna let out a hoot of laughter. “Damn, if I’d have only known it was that easy,” she said. “I’d have nailed her long ago.”

“Are you attracted to Kathryn?” Seven asked curiously.

“She’s an incredible woman,” B’Elanna admitted. She examined her mug intently. “I bet she’s just amazing in bed.”

Seven raised an eyebrow, or at least made the attempt. “She is a most remarkable lover,” Seven offered freely. “Though I will admit, I have no real basis of comparison other than the information I discovered during my research into Voyager’s data banks. Of course, I have no interest in acquiring more external data.”

“You really love her, don’t you?” B’Elanna asked wistfully.

“She is everything to me,” Seven said, honestly.

B’Elanna looked suddenly depressed. “Annika, I really envy you,” she said mournfully. “The captain really loves you, too. She sure as hell didn’t go looking for someone else when we were in the Alpha Quadrant.”

“Ah, now you are talking about Tom Paris,” Seven noted, unaware that her words were slightly slurred.

“The bastard!” B’Elanna stated with great firmness. “You probably have the right idea sticking with women, ‘Nik. Sometimes I think men really don’t know how to love us.”

“Indeed,” Seven said, suddenly intrigued. “Kathryn indicated there was a difference in how men and women make love, but she has yet to go into detail.”

B’Elanna eyed her narrowly, as if suspicious that Seven was attempting to deceive her. “You do know they have different equipment from us,” she said carefully.

“I am aware of the anatomical diversities,” Seven replied readily. “I am unsure however, why the physical aspects make such a significant difference.”

“Oh, they do,” B’Elanna said reverently. “Though what men do with it is way more important than how big it is.”

“Indeed,” Seven said, wondering vaguely what ‘it’ was, and how size had become a factor in this discussion. What exactly was being measured here?

“Yep, and just between you and me, Seven,” B’Elanna said, leaning even closer, lowering her voice confidentially. “Chakotay has both.”

“Both what?” Seven asked, completely confused at this point.

“Skill and size,” B’Elanna told her. “Poor old Tom just can’t compete there. He’s like a spanner compared to Chakotay’s warp core.”

Seven peered at her closely, trying hard to figure out what B’Elanna was talking about. “‘Warp core’?” she repeated.

“Yeah, you know,” B’Elanna said, belatedly realizing that Seven had lost track of the topic. “His genitalia.”

“Oh.” Seven was wide-eyed with surprise. “You’ve seen it?”

“Oh, I’ve done more than just ‘see it’,” B’Elanna leered. She then proceeded to inform Seven of what the ‘more’ actually consisted of in great detail, including several acrobatic encounters that Seven suspected were sheer hyperbole.

Seven realized suddenly that the relationship between B’Elanna and Chakotay had gone much further than anyone knew, including herself who had been actively encouraging it. She wondered if Kathryn was aware that the ‘competition’ they had been in could be considered over, and that Seven’s wishes had prevailed. For some reason, it did not make her feel triumphant, merely sad for Lt. Paris.

“Are you in love with Chakotay?” she asked, needing to know the answer.

B’Elanna’s face softened all of a sudden, looking completely unlike the feisty engineer’s normal demeanor. “I’ve always been in love with him,” she admitted, with a very odd tone in her voice. “From the first moment I saw him.”

“Then why…” Seven began, surprised.

B’Elanna grimaced. “Because, I didn’t think I ever stood a chance with him,” she said, gesturing abruptly with her hand. “First, he was all tied up with Seska, then all of us who knew him thought he was interested in the captain. Tom kept pestering me, and well, he’s not a bad guy most of the time so I figured, why not? Then you and Janeway got together which left Chakotay free, but it was too late, I was already involved with Tom. When we went to the Alpha Quadrant, though, it was just like old times, Chakotay and me against the Federation. I discovered that I still loved him, so maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing that Tom slept with Jennifer. It gave me an excuse to untangle myself from Tom, which left Chakotay and I both free at the same time. A week ago, we made it for real, and he’s everything I could have hoped for.”

“Why not explain that to Lt. Paris, rather than indulge in this constant antagonism?” Seven asked, honestly confused. “It seems futile.”

“Because Paris insulted my honor,” B’Elanna said stubbornly. “You just don’t sleep with someone else less than three months after your mate dies.”

“I see,” Seven noted. “What is the prescribed period of time?”

“At least half the amount of time as you were together,” B’Elanna told her as if it should have been obvious. “He barely waited a quarter of the time. After I defended his honor, too.”

“By striking his father?” Seven said.

“Yeah, popped him good, didn’t I?” B’Elanna noted with a certain amount of pride, then her face fell. “And where was Tom? Shagging one of the Delaney sisters. The bastard.”

“Explain,” Seven said. “If you have always been in love with Chakotay, what difference does it make who Paris is with?”

“It’s a matter of pride,” the Klingon insisted. “I deserve better than being replaced by one of the Delaney sisters.”

Seven sighed. “I do not understand.”

“No, you don’t,” B’Elanna told her, wagging her finger at her admonishingly. “Be glad you don’t. Be glad you have a partner who just loves you to pieces, and would never even think of looking elsewhere. I don’t know if Chakotay’s that for me yet, but I have my fingers crossed.”

Seven nodded, deciding she had to be content with that, and took another drink from her mead. She was amazed at how quickly the liquid seemed to be disappearing. This was her sixth mug, though she had only the vaguest recollection of drinking the previous five. Perhaps there were leaks somewhere in the containers. Certainly it didn’t feel as if she had been ingesting an intoxicant. In fact, she felt just fine. No ill effects at all.

Why had B’Elanna suddenly become elevated?

“Seven, you’ve fallen off your chair,” B’Elanna informed her with great earnestness.

“Indeed,” Seven remarked with considerable astonishment. “How did that happen?”

“Leaned over too far, I suspect,” B’Elanna explained, getting out of her own chair, and trying to pull Seven up, rather unsuccessfully. “Time to get you home, girlfriend. You can’t keep up with me at all.”

Several L’Borna at nearby tables hastily and politely assisted the Voyager engineer in getting the Borg to her feet, and with Seven leaning heavily on B’Elanna, the pair staggered out of the tavern and into the night.

“Am I drunk now?” Seven asked her as they made their way through the streets of the L’Borna capital which had cleared out somewhat, though there were still a great many people celebrating.

“If not, you’re doing a pretty good imitation,” Voyager’s chief engineer told her, keeping the Borg upright with a certain amount of difficulty as they wound their way through the narrow alleys.

“I find the effects on my sense of balance intriguing,” Seven said.

“Yeah, well don’t become so involved in studying it,” B’Elanna scolded as she steered Seven away from the bushes the Borg had been on a collision course with. The mead had not affected Torres to the same extent that it had Seven, and the crisp night air, not to mention the exertion she was putting forth, was rapidly clearing her head, as well as sobering her up. “Concentrate, Seven, one foot in front of the other.”

“I have to sleep alone tonight,” Seven suddenly wailed, throwing her arm companionably around B’Elanna’s shoulders. “It is not right. Why does Kathryn not want to be with me?”

“I don’t think she had a choice,” B’Elanna grunted, finding herself bearing more and more of the taller woman’s weight as they navigated their way back to the palace. “Maybe you just have to realize that in certain situations, you can’t always be together. It doesn’t mean she doesn’t love you.”

“I love her so much,” Seven said dreamily. “Even when I am not with her, thoughts of her continually occupy my mind. Her hair, her eyes, the sound she makes when I kiss her nipples…”

“More than I needed to know,” B’Elanna told her sincerely.

“You have shared intimate details about Chakotay with me,” Seven reminded her. “I am merely returning the courtesy.”

“Thanks, but no thanks,” B’Elanna said shortly. It occurred to her that perhaps this had not been such a good idea after all, but who knew Seven would get loaded so quickly? Six mugs of the lightweight brew should have scarcely gotten her tipsy. Or at least, that would have been the case if Seven had been a Klingon. It occurred to B’Elanna that she had neglected to take that into account when she was counting Seven’s drinks. “Seven, do try to be quiet when we get to the palace. We’re going to sneak in.”

“I will be very quiet,” Seven said, very loudly. “Do you sing, B’Elanna?”

“Do I what?”

“Sing,” Seven elaborated. “So you remember when we lost the ship to the Hirogen, and were forced to participate in that simulation about World War II? I was required to sing and have since found it a somewhat productive endeavor.”

Seven broke into a song that B’Elanna could not remember ever hearing. The Klingon was surprised to discover Seven had a fairly decent voice, and certainly a respectable vocal range, but Torres had no intention of entering the palace with this level of noise. “Seven, stop singing,” she said grumpily. “You’re supposed to be quiet.” She was struck by a sudden inspiration. “The captain requires us to be quiet.”

Immediately, Seven broke off her song in mid-refrain, staring at B’Elanna intently. “She does?” she asked in a hushed voice.

“Yes,” B’Elanna explained. “This is like a covert operation.”

“I see,” Seven whispered, her lips barely moving.

B’Elanna rolled her eyes and with a concentrated effort, pushed her companion up the stairs to the main entrance. Observing their progress across the grounds with amused interest, the two palace guards politely opened the doors for them, and B’Elanna nodded her thanks in passing. Guiding Seven in the general direction of the quarters where the Voyager females were staying, she was gratified to see the hallway leading to her door was empty, and with a sudden burst of energy now that her destination was actually in sight, she propelled Seven down the corridor and into their suite.

Captain Kathryn Janeway was standing in the middle of their living area, arms crossed over her chest, a frown of immense proportions on her elegant features.

“Well, damn,” B’Elanna muttered.

“Kathryn,” Seven said in a tone of utter happiness. “You are here.” She struggled away from B’Elanna, and staggered towards the captain, smiling blissfully. Janeway caught her by the biceps, her slim hands seeming to be able to hold the statuesque woman up by sheer will as Seven swayed, in grave danger of toppling at any second.

“I am drunk,” the Borg told Janeway proudly, squinting as she peered into the captain’s face, apparently unable to focus on it.

“So I see,” Janeway said coldly.

“It is not at all like being ‘eaten’,” Seven added helpfully.

“What did the pair of you think you were doing?” The captain’s tone could shatter duranium.

Well, that’s not good, B’Elanna considered thoughtfully.

“Just went out to sightsee a bit,” the Chief Engineer offered lamely. “Observe the planet and its society. Do a little cultural exchange.”

“In the dark?” Janeway noted with deep skepticism. She favored her Klingon crewmember with a look that B’Elanna realized would have struck far better beings than her stone cold dead. “I suspect the only sight you saw was the inside of a bar.”

“The people are so friendly,” Seven informed the captain in a tone of utter gravity. “They continually purchased our drinks throughout the evening.”

“Exactly,” B’Elanna leaped on it, grateful for the possible out. “Diplomacy dictated we couldn’t offend them by refusing now, could we?”

Janeway did not look at all convinced.

“I do not want to sleep by myself,” Seven said, suddenly upset, grasping the captain by the shoulders. “You told me I would never have to be by myself, yet you would not even kiss me today.”

The Borg started to cry, which B’Elanna thought was a perfectly wonderful way to divert attention from the situation since it completely occupied Janeway’s attention. The captain appeared stymied by the tears rolling down Seven’s face, and by the way the younger woman was now clinging to her in honest dismay.

“Well, busy day tomorrow. I guess I should be getting to bed.” B’Elanna said cheerfully, edging toward her bedroom.

“We will discuss this further,” Janeway promised ominously over Seven’s shoulder, glaring at the chief engineer.

“I’m sure we will,” B’Elanna allowed, and with all haste, removed herself from the room.

“I do not wish to be by myself,” Seven sobbed as Janeway held her.

“I know, darling,” Janeway soothed, rubbing her back gently. “It’s all right, really it is.”

It would do no good to lecture her partner on the pitfalls of drinking to excess, the captain thought ruefully. At least, not at the moment. Janeway doubted that in her present condition, Seven would even understand what the captain was saying, let alone remember such a lecture come morning. Wrapping her arm firmly about the woman’s waist, Janeway led her partner into the room Seven had been assigned. Seven dug her heels in at the doorway, the sobs magically stopping as an obstinate look crossed her face, hands grasping the door frame with unmovable resistance.

“No,” she said in a tone of utter determination. “I am not sleeping here by myself.”

Janeway took a breath, forcing herself to be patient. “I’ll stay with you, Annika,” she promised.

Seven brightened and immediately relaxed, allowing herself to be led into the room. “Why did you not want to kiss me today when we landed?” she asked plaintively as Janeway got her to sit down on the edge of the bed. “I was very unhappy, and I needed you to touch me.”

Janeway reached around the blonde’s neck to the back of her outfit, undoing the fastening that kept the skintight brown mesh suit closed. “I’m sorry, Annika,” she said, with honest contrition. “I didn’t realize you were so upset. Why were you unhappy?”

Seven leaned forward as if suddenly weary, resting her forehead on Janeway’s chest. “B’Elanna and Lt. Paris were in conflict all the way from the construction area to the city,” she explained sadly. “It was very disconcerting.”

“I’m sorry,” Janeway said taking a moment to hug the head to her gently. “I know it’s hard to listen to others fight, and not be able to help.”

“I did not want to help,” Seven protested, words indistinct as she pressed her face into the captain’s mid-section. “I merely wanted them to stop.”

Janeway sighed and pressed Seven down onto the bed where the younger woman sprawled, her assorted limbs askew over the larger portion of the bed. Janeway had never before realized how much space the young woman was capable of taking up when she wasn’t in control. With difficulty, the captain peeled the Borg’s outfit down the lanky form, and off the lovely, long legs before managing to nudge Seven between the covers, the young woman trying to cooperate as best she could. Janeway tucked her in warmly, then hesitated, stroking the golden hair spilling out over the pillows.

“Sometimes people just have to work things out in their own way, Seven,” the captain counseled. “Is that why you and B’Elanna went off together this evening?”

“We were unhappy,” Seven explained, looking up at her with innocent eyes that suddenly seemed impossibly young. “We wished to have ‘fun’.”

The captain sighed. “Still, Seven,” Janeway said. “I don’t want you to leave without telling me where you’re going.”

“I am an adult,” Seven protested stubbornly. “I do not need your permission to have fun.”

Janeway wondered where that had come from. It sounded suspiciously like B’Elanna talking, rather than her partner.

“That’s not what this is about,” Janeway insisted quietly. “It has to do with me being the captain, and you being my crewmember. You can’t just wander around a strange planet during an away mission without notifying your superior officer.”

“B’Elanna is my superior officer,” Seven reminded her. “Astrometrics is a department that falls under engineering.”

“Well, you’ve certainly picked up B’Elanna’s ability to know which regulations can be used to justify breaking others,” Janeway said dryly, pulling away from the younger woman in order to make her own preparations for bed. Seven reached up and grabbed her hand urgently.

“You promised to stay with me,” she said.

“I will,” Janeway said. She was beginning to become a trifle concerned, as she realized Seven was honestly having a problem believing that she was not going to leave her alone. She wondered where this was stemming from, and squeezed the hand between hers, holding it gently. “I have to get ready for bed, Seven.”

“All right,” Seven said suspiciously. “I will watch.”

Janeway raised an eyebrow “I am going to use the facilities, Seven,” she told her. “I’ll be right back. I give you my word.”

“Very well,” Seven said.

“What’s wrong, Annika?” Janeway asked, looking at her intently. “Why are you so afraid?”

Seven looked puzzled. “I do not know,” she said. Her face crumpled again as tears began to slide down her cheeks. “B’Elanna loved Tom. Now she hates him. I do not want you to stop loving me. I do not want you to hate me.”

“That is not going to happen, Annika,” Janeway reassured, sitting down on the edge of the bed, and gathering the younger woman up in her arms. “Tom and B’Elanna are completely different people than us, and besides, I’m sure they’ll work it out.”

“No, they will not,” Seven replied, voice muffled as she buried her face into Janeway’s neck, hugging her tightly. “B’Elanna loves Chakotay. They copulate now.”

Janeway took a deep breath. “How do you know this?” she asked.

“B’Elanna told me,” Seven said, calming as Janeway cuddled her, stroking the young woman’s hair soothingly. “Would you like me to describe what they do? B’Elanna has explained the difference between how they make love as opposed to how we make love.”

“No, no need for that,” Janeway said hastily. “I already know the difference. So they’re really together?”

“Yes,” Seven replied, resting her head on Janeway’s shoulder, and sighing sleepily. “I do not understand how she can stop loving Tom and love someone else, but she does. I am afraid that means you could stop loving me.”

“Oh, Annika,” Janeway said softly. She wondered what she could say that logic could not poke holes in. There were no guarantees in the universe, no promise that could not be broken if the circumstances were right … or wrong. However, in her intoxicated state, Seven didn’t really need logic. She simply required assurance. “I don’t know why B’Elanna stopped loving Tom but I promise, I will never, ever stop loving you. Nothing in this universe could make that happen.”

“How do you know?” Seven insisted unhappily.

“Because I’m the captain,” Janeway said, in her best authoritative tone, “and Starfleet captains know these things.”

“Oh,” Seven said, apparently completely willing to accept that. She snuggled closer to Janeway, her eyes sliding shut. “I love you, Kathryn,” she whispered.

“I know, darling,” Janeway said, resting her cheek against Seven’s. “I love you, too.”

She held the young woman close as she felt her breathing slow, smoothing out to a regular rhythm, the body growing heavy in her arms. Carefully, she eased Seven back onto the bed, drawing the covers up over the sleeping form. For a moment, she debated whether she should return to her own suite, leaving Seven to finish sleeping it off, but she quickly disabused herself of that notion. She didn’t know if Seven was the sort to remember things once she sobered up, but if she did, the thought of having promised something without honoring it had become anathema to Janeway since the recent events of Seven’s supposed death and miraculous return.

With a quiet sigh, Janeway scooped up Seven’s outfit, and made her way to the ensuite set off the bedrooms. She stopped dead as she entered, taking in the interior with dismay. It was easy to see B’Elanna had already accessed the facilities, leaving behind sopping towels to dot the floor, and a gold and black uniform dumped carelessly in the corner.

Thank god I didn’t fall in love with my chief engineer, Janeway thought idly as she retrieved the discarded towels, and piled them in the recycling unit where they belonged. For all her idiosyncrasies, Seven was immaculate in her grooming and her personal habits, for which Janeway was truly appreciative. There was never anything out of place in their quarters and everything was stored in the most efficient manner possible.

The captain picked up B’Elanna’s discarded uniform gingerly, and dropped it into the laundry unit provided to be cleaned and pressed, along with Seven’s outfit. When they popped out, neat and warm, she hung the uniform on a hook and folded Seven’s mesh outfit to take back with her to the bedroom. Honestly, she was beginning to feel like a chaperone on a class trip, she thought crankily. Or a den mother of sorts. Certainly her crew was acting like it was spring break at Starfleet Academy … even Seven.

Feeling much older than her years, Janeway stripped off her uniform, cleaned it and folded it for morning. She found a robe provided by the L’Borna for their guests, though it had clearly been designed for the taller, burlier natives, and pulled it on. It dragged along the floor as she made her way back to the bedroom, juggling the clothes as the sleeves, which despite her best efforts to push them up her arms, kept falling over her hands.

She dropped the uniforms on the foot of the bed, and slipped out of the oversized robe with relief, crawling naked into the bed next to Seven. For a long time, Janeway lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling, sleep an elusive quarry. Finally, she rose to her side, propped up on her elbow as she looked down at the sweet face of her partner, the narrow features made even more youthful and innocent by sleep. The captain found herself suddenly wondering if she was holding Seven back from doing all she wanted to do, of experiencing everything there was to experience … of being young, and free and not having to answer to anyone. She understood that Seven couldn’t miss what she never knew, but the captain was suddenly afraid that Seven would one day realize that she had lost something, first by spending eighteen years in the Borg Collective, then by falling into a relationship with an older woman.

An older woman, Janeway added to herself bleakly, who had a great many responsibilities and duties which kept her from doing things that might be considered fun by younger and less encumbered people. Such as running out and getting drunk in a tavern on a planet in the middle of nowhere, just because it was there to be done.

Janeway felt her heart spasm at the thought that one day, Seven would look around and decide that there were horizons to explore beyond what a Starfleet captain could offer. That one day Seven would simply walk away to find her own path, her own life. When that time came, what would Janeway do? How would she ever survive it?

Janeway felt tears sting the back of her eyes, and she blinked them away furiously. Now who’s getting excessively maudlin? her little voice scolded. You’d think you were the one deep in your cups. You’re always telling Seven to have faith in your love, Katie. Grant her the same respect. Have faith in what she feels for you.

Deciding that was a fairly decent piece of advice from herself, not to mention the fact that she really couldn’t do anything about it this night, she settled down into the bed, wrapping herself around Seven who stirred briefly, murmured something unintelligible and went back to sleep, snoring lightly. Janeway raised an eyebrow. She’d never heard her partner snore before. It seemed the young woman was becoming more and more Human with each passing day, and with a quiet sigh, the captain snuggled closer to the long, lanky warmth. The steady throb of Seven’s heartbeat beneath her cheek soothed away the last of her unease, and it wasn’t much longer before Janeway was able to follow her partner into slumber.

Seven was convinced she was dying.

What was worse, Kathryn was amazingly unsympathetic.

“I am not functioning properly,” Seven whimpered.

“Well, that’s what happens when you get intoxicated,” Janeway said coolly, shrugging into her uniform. “It’s called a hangover, and it’s the price you pay for abusing your body.”

“Must you speak so loudly?”

“I’m not,” Janeway said firmly, though not unkindly. Then, her brows drew down in a frown as she favored Seven with a stern look. “I expect a full duty shift from you today, Seven. I’ll see you this evening.” She did not look back as she left the bedroom.

Abandoned, Seven lay motionless in the middle of the bed, being very careful not to move her head because every time she did, the room started spinning. She felt very odd, and on at least three occasions, she had come very close to vomiting, a Human frailty that she had recently become familiar with. It was only with the greatest of wills that she had managed not to. She swallowed hard, feeling pitiful and completely wretched.

“Hey, Seven, how are you feeling?”

Very carefully, Seven shifted her eyes to the entrance of the bedroom. B’Elanna looked offensively fresh and perky, leaning casually on the doorframe, arms crossed over her chest, head tilted slightly as she regarded the prostrate blonde.

“I am uncomfortable,” Seven said acidly.

“I’ll bet,” B’Elanna said with a smirk. “Well, up and at ‘em. We have those power relays to bring on line today.”

Seven groaned.

B’Elanna laughed. “Too bad, Seven,” she said. “Come on, time’s a wasting.”

She went over and seized Seven by the wrists, hauling her unceremoniously to her feet. Seven didn’t know what to do first, kill B’Elanna or merely vomit all over her. She ended up doing neither, but it was a very close thing for a few nanoseconds.

“Why are you doing this to me?” she asked in honest dismay.

B’Elanna softened, patting her on the shoulder as she helped the Borg get into her outfit.

“Believe me, Seven, I’m doing what’s best for you,” she told her seriously. “You need to get yourself moving, you need something in your stomach, and if you’re good, Sek might even give you something for your headache.”

Until B’Elanna had mentioned it, Seven hadn’t realized she had a headache. Now, it was if someone was standing in her brain, swinging a spanner against the inside of her skull.

“I will never drink again,” she swore.

“Until the next time,” B’Elanna agreed cheerfully. “The captain decided that since I got you drunk, I’m responsible for you today. I’m supposed to bring you back to her tonight, completely recovered from our little jaunt, and that’s what I have every intention of doing, so let’s go.”

“It will take me longer than a day to recover,” Seven complained as B’Elanna steered her out into the main room of their suite. “I am deathly ill.”

“You exaggerate,” B’Elanna explained. “First, Sek is gonna hit you up with some vitamins to help your body clear out the toxins, then you’re going to eat a big breakfast to replace all the nutrients you’ve lost. Then we’re going to work like dogs. Trust me, it’s the very best cure for a hangover.”

“Why would anyone drink if this is the result?” Seven asked crankily as she was deposited at the table in front of two large bay windows. She blanched as she saw the food piled high in the center. “I am going to vomit.”

“No, you’re not,” B’Elanna ordered. “Sek, hit her up.”

The medical hologram obediently pressed a hypospray to Seven’s neck, which made the Borg’s headache and most of her nausea subside. However, she still did not feel like eating, and were it not for the Klingon standing over her with a domineering expression, or the memory of Kathryn’s disappointment lingering in her mind, Seven would have avoided it altogether. Faced with two such imposing influences, however, the young woman forced herself to consume what was placed in front of her.

“You know, Sek,” B’Elanna said amiably to the hologram as Seven ate, “you should have come with us last night. It was fun.”

“I am incapable of ingesting liquid,” Sek told her evenly. “Even if I were, I am incapable of becoming intoxicated.”

“Getting drunk wasn’t the point,” B’Elanna objected.

“It wasn’t?” Seven raised her eyebrow, chewing slowly. That was news to her.

“No, it was just to cut loose a little bit,” the Klingon explained. “We’ve been on that ship for five years. The same old Starfleet routine gets dull after awhile.”

Seven was glad the chief engineer had explained that. She would have hated to think that the whole purpose of the previous evening was just so she could feel like she had been flushed out of a plasma intake valve seven hours later.

“Where is the captain?” she asked between mouthfuls of something that resembled waffles, covered with fruit.

“Marshall L’Branan is escorting her and Neelix around the continent today,” B’Elanna explained. “A sort of good will tour. Best of all, Paris is going with them. That leaves us to take care of the power plant.” She eyed Sek curiously. “I hope you won’t be too bored today.”

“I have plenty of research,” Sek told her. “This is my first alien species.”

“Actually, everyone is an alien species,” Seven pointed out, surprised to find that she was actually starting to feel more like her normal self, the food beginning to work on her metabolism, restoring its functionality. “Since you, yourself, are a unique creation.”

“That’s very true, Seven,” Sek responded with a glowing smile. “However, I was referring to people not of Voyager. The crew of our ship is like our own, distinct species. Definitely a tribe of sorts.”

“Interesting,” Seven allowed. “What unique characteristics have you discovered about the L’Borna?”

“Talk in the runabout,” B’Elanna interrupted at that point. “C’mon, we’ve got work to do.”

Seven hastily swallowed the last of her juice, leaving the dishes scattered on the table as she scooped up her data padds, and followed the other two females out the door. The sun outside seemed a trifle bright, stabbing into her head like twin daggers as she stumbled out into the courtyard. It certainly seemed harsher than normal, and she wondered if the L’Borna star was undergoing sunspot activity of some kind. However, neither of the others mentioned anything out of the ordinary so Seven didn’t either. Squinting painfully, she boarded the runabout, taking a seat in the co-pilot’s chair even as B’Elanna began the pre-flight check, and Sek made herself comfortable at the science station.

They lifted off from the town square and flew swiftly to the site where the power plant was under construction. As promised, B’Elanna made Seven work constantly, never letting her have a break as they brought the system online. As a result, things went much quicker than initially anticipated, and the chief engineer was gratified when the first ergs of power were being generated by mid-morning. With some Borg ingenuity, which sprang mostly from Seven’s deep desire to lay down somewhere and pass out, they had the rest of the plant humming at full capacity by late afternoon.

“You know what?” B’Elanna said to Seven as she guided the dispirited Borg onto the runabout. “If we take off tonight, we can be back on Voyager by tomorrow morning … provided we can get out of here in time to beat the ion storm.”

“If the captain is agreeable,” Seven said uncertainly. “I believe the L’Borna wanted a ceremony of sorts to mark our departure tomorrow in the city square.”

“Damn, you’re right,” the Klingon said. She eyed Seven speculatively as they took their places at the helm.

“What?” Seven asked with sudden foreboding as she felt the Klingon’s eyes boring into her.

“Maybe you could talk to the captain,” B’Elanna offered.

“About?”

“Leaving early,” B’Elanna said persuasively as she initiated the launch sequence. “Tell her you want to get back to the ship.”

Seven considered that. “You wish for me to utilize my relationship with the captain to convince her to depart ahead of schedule,” she said.

“Exactly,” B’Elanna said.

Seven raised an eyebrow. “You overestimate my influence on Kathryn,” she explained. “While I can talk Kathryn into doing things she might not otherwise agree to in our personal life, I cannot influence her in matters regarding the ship or her command. It is simply not acceptable to her.” She paused, examined that thought. “Nor, do I find, to me.”

B’Elanna held up her hands in surrender. “Okay, it was just a suggestion,” she said hastily. “Maybe we can find another tavern tonight. One with dancing.”

Seven hesitated. “I will ask if it is possible,” she allowed finally, with reluctance. “But no more.”

“That’s all I want,” B’Elanna said, smirking while Seven felt as if she had missed something quite obvious.

Janeway looked at the magnificent waterfall plunging gracefully over a two hundred meter drop, and stifled a yawn. Honestly, it wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate the magnificence of what the L’Branan were intent on showing them. It was simply that, after so many planets and the wonders seen in space, water falling off a cliff was a trifle pedestrian. She took a deep breath, and tried to refocus her attention on the natural phenomena displayed before her.

She wondered if Seven would find this beautiful. Certainly, the young woman had developed an appreciation for beauty in her professional life, finding a deep pleasure in the precision of mathematics and spatial calculations that Janeway shared. The captain also knew that Seven had found an eye for the aesthetic in her personal life, having acquired the habit of picking up various knickknacks for their quarters at the last few alien markets they had encountered in their travels. Janeway was assured that it was Seven’s own taste at work, as opposed to reflecting the captain’s, since there were at least two tiny statues currently displayed next to the couch that Janeway thought were the most revolting things she had ever seen. Seven liked them, however, declaring them elegantly efficient in their structure, so Janeway bit her tongue and tried not to look at them very often.

It’s all a series of small compromises, the captain thought idly as she stared at all that water pouring down. The big ones are easy, but it’s the tiny adjustments that can make or break a relationship.

In the beginning, most of them had been on Seven’s side, not only because she was adapting to Janeway, but to becoming Human as well. Now, however, the captain found that she was the one adapting more and more to the reality of living with someone full time, of having someone next to her every morning when she awoke, of sharing her personal space with another person who had their own needs and quirks that would not change even if Janeway wished them to. Little things, such as the fact that Janeway could no longer put something down in the middle of her work and expect it to stay there. Instead, it was now returned to it’s proper place by Seven the instant she saw it lying around unattended. Or that the young woman was constantly rearranging the furniture in an ongoing effort to find the ‘perfect’ living arrangement. Or the fact that now the captain was expected to join Seven in eating regular meals, and going to bed at a decent time, instead of pulling the all-nighters sbe had been prone to indulge in before.

Not that it was such a bad thing, the captain allowed silently, though she might not ever admit that publicly. It was nice having someone worry about her, to make the effort to see that she was taken care of, and even, on occasion, to rake her over the coals for doing something wrong. It eased the weight she was constantly under, making her feel that, even though Seven could not really help shoulder the responsibilities the rank demanded, the burden of command was still lightened somehow. When Janeway walked through that door to their quarters after her duty shift, smelled the savory aroma of whatever creation Seven had tried that day, felt the warmth of the woman’s embrace surround her, the problems of the ship were temporarily left behind, and she felt a peace she had never before experienced.

It forced her to speculate on the future she had planned years ago, one where Voyager was not lost, where she would have ended up married to Mark Johnson. She had never really taken the time to think her engagement through to its obvious conclusion; to being married and sharing a home with him, or how that would have worked, if indeed, it would have worked at all.

Could she have given up command and traded it for a desk job on Earth to be with him? Or perhaps she might have requested a posting to a Galaxy-class ship in order to bring him along as a civilian spouse, though Mark had never indicated any interest in that, nor had they talked about it at all. Perhaps, she had expected him to stay behind while she gallivanted all over the Alpha Quadrant, taking care of home and hearth, not to mention the dog, while she just popped in on the rare occasions her ship returned to Earth.

Why would she have thought that any of those options would have worked?

Though Mark had been very easy-going, his life and career was on Earth. Hers was written in the stars. She realized it would never have worked out, at least, not for the person she had become here in the Delta Quadrant, the person who, as it turned out, enjoyed the challenge of command and greatly anticipated the lure of the unknown. Yet, having made the vow to him, she would have done her utmost to fulfill it though, in the end, both of them would probably have been miserable, and maybe never figured out why.

Seven of Nine, surprisingly enough, had turned out to be a perfect complement to Janeway’s career and personality; a crewmember working with her, yet not a part of Starfleet under her command. Looking to the captain for guidance, yet astoundingly arrogant in her remarkable intelligence and abilities, maintaining the right balance of respect for Janeway as a person, and a certain sort of disregard for her position in the chain of command which Seven thought inefficient. A purely accidental happenstance, but one that, as it turned out, seemed absolutely perfect for Janeway as a Starfleet captain.

My woman, Janeway smiled serenely. I think I’ll keep her.

“Uh, Captain?”

Startled out of her musing, she turned her head slightly to take in Tom Paris’s freckled profile.

“Yes, lieutenant?” she asked.

He glanced over, seeing that Neelix had their native guides occupied with answering his many questions, and lowered his voice.

“I know you’ve been pitching for me with B’Elanna and I really appreciate it,” he said. “I was wondering if you were getting anywhere?”

She stifled a sigh. On Voyager, it was practically impossible to maintain any sort of discretion when it came to things like matchmaking. With so little outside news to occupy the crew, they tended to concentrate even more on every little sub-current and subtlety within the ship. Apparently, her little attempts to forestall B’Elanna from moving on had not gone unnoticed. Still, it would have been nice if it hadn’t been Tom who understood what she had been up to, especially since it meant that she might have to be the one to break it to him that he had lost out, possibly for good.

“Tom, there are some things that just aren’t meant to be,” she tried delicately.

He looked at her sharply. “I don’t like the sound of that,” he drawled. “What do you know that I don’t?”

“I’m not sure this is the sort of thing we should be discussing on a diplomatic mission,” she temporized madly.

He was silent for a long moment, staring at her intently. “With all due respect, ma’am, I think you’re hiding behind those pips,” he said positively. “Let me have it, Captain. I can take it.”

Damn, but her crew was getting entirely too familiar with her. Their situation had meant a certain amount of relaxing the boundaries between captain and crew, while her new relationship with Seven had granted her an even greater approachability, with the crew apparently feeling that she was now as Human as they were. Which was undeniably true, but not necessarily a belief the captain of a starship wanted to foster.

“I believe B’Elanna has moved on,” she said carefully.

“You’re talking about Chakotay,” he said flatly.

So he knew already, she thought with a mixture of relief and aggravation. Was she always the last to know these things?

“They seemed to have progressed farther than most think,” she allowed. “In any event, it’s not my place to interfere with the personal relationships of my crew, unless they affect the functioning of my ship.” She favored him with a stern look. “None of this is going to affect the functioning of Voyager,” she added as a statement, not a question.

“No, ma’am,” he said after a moment. “It won’t.” He studied his shoes. “I hadn’t realized it had gotten that far between them, however. I thought … well, I guess it doesn’t matter now what I thought.”

“I’m sorry, Tom,” Janeway said honestly. “Truly, I was rooting for you.”

He managed a faint grin that did not reach his eyes. “I know, Captain,” he said. “It’s my own fault. I gave up on her way too quickly.” He paused. “Maybe we weren’t so crazy in love after all. I did find it easy enough to hop into bed with someone else soon enough.”

“Tom, it’s not that simple,” she said, trying to provide what sympathy she could. “Who’s to say what I might have done had I the opportunity? We both thought the people we loved were gone forever.”

He gave her a sideways glance through narrow eyes. “You handled it fine, Captain,” he said with a touch of envy. “You carried on with such dignity and strength… I was the one who was a complete mess.”

Janeway felt a catch in her breath, the memory of that awful time when Seven, Chakotay and B’Elanna were presumed to be dead still fresh in her mind, still lancing her heart with unexpected pain. She remembered the awful, disintegrating agony which had eaten away at her from within, a little bit more of her soul gone with each passing day, threatening to leave only an empty, emotionless husk. The brittle facade of command she had displayed had apparently fooled Paris, along with the rest of the crew. Not Tuvok and the Doctor, however. They hadn’t been taken in for a moment, and it was primarily their efforts that made her hang on for the sake of the ship.

The fact remained that Janeway had not even dared to grieve, had not even listed Seven as officially deceased because it would have sent the captain into an unending spiral of misery that might have been inescapable. Yet, how could she tell him that? How could she explain that he had gone through all the normal stages of grief whereas she had been completely unable to begin the process?

She couldn’t. That was too much familiarity between a captain and her crewmember.

“We all grieve in our own ways,” she said wistfully. “At our own pace. In any event, things happen, and very often, when we look back, we discover they happened for a reason.”

“You think?” he replied, shaking his head. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe she is better off with Chakotay.”

“Perhaps,” the captain said, not unkindly. “In the meantime, there’s still a mission to attend to.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, and drifted away to stand at the far end of the railed platform, looking at the waterfall as if he wished to plunge into it, and let it carry him away.

She eyed him narrowly for a few moments before deciding he would survive, and turned her attention to the L’Borna who were motioning them to the aircar, no doubt ready to show them yet another scenic wonder. Except they seemed somewhat agitated, abruptly nervous in their body language and gestures. Perhaps Neelix had insulted them somehow, and she took a breath, drawing on her charm in order to smooth over this minor little breach of alien diplomacy.

She wondered what Seven was doing right now, wishing that she was with her instead of on this insipid tour.

Seven of Nine picked herself up off the ground, shaking her head dazedly. She couldn’t figure out what had happened exactly, only that she had been stepping off the Mississippi when the explosion had occurred. She rose up to her knees, leaning hard on the edge of the ramp leading to the interior of the runabout, and reached up to her head, wiping away the wetness that was running down her cheek. Her hand came away sticky with blood.

“Seven, don’t move.”

Seven looked up to see the slender form of Sek vault over the edge of the ramp, crouching beside her as she drew out a medical tricorder, and examined her anxiously.

“What happened?” Seven mumbled through split lips.

“We were fired upon as we left the shuttle,” Sek explained. “Fortunately I was able to increase my gravimetric mass, and shield you from the worst of the missile’s explosion.”

Seven closed her eyes, trying to think. Yes, Sek had been preceding Seven down the ramp when the concussion threw the Borg over the side where they now huddled in the shelter of the runabout’s hull.

“B’Elanna?” she asked. They both ducked as the sound of other explosions were heard. Smoke filled the air around them as flames shot out from the palace windows. There were dead bodies of L’Borna dressed in royal guard tunics sprawled over the square a few hundred yards away. Seven wondered if any of them belonged to the guards who had so courteously held the door for her and B’Elanna the previous evening.

“In the cockpit, trying to raise the captain,” Sek said. “She’s extended the weapons array to show that the ship is armed and dangerous, but fortunately she hasn’t fired yet.” She took Seven’s arm firmly, and helped her the rest of the way to her feet. “Come on, we have to get you inside.”

Allowing herself to be tugged into the interior of the runabout, Seven crouched low to minimize the target area as Sek protected her back. Once inside, B’Elanna sealed the doors as Seven slumped onto the first seat she saw, wincing at the pain shooting through her head.

“I can’t get through to the captain,” B’Elanna told them, coming back to see Seven who was being attended by Sek. “There’s some sort of interference jamming communications, but we’re locked down, and the weapons are on standby, ready to go.”

“Kathryn would not want you to fire on the L’Borna,” Seven said, still uncertain about what exactly was happening.

“Why not?” B’Elanna noted in a cranky voice. ” They’re shooting at each other pretty good. There’s an all out war going on out there.”

Sek wiped the blood away from Seven’s face and hands with a soft, damp cloth, but could do nothing about the large patch of blood staining Seven’s outfit. Seven felt the hiss of a hypospray injected into her neck, and immediately the ringing in her ears, along with the pounding of her head eased, clearing her mind and allowing her to think. If this was happening here, what about the rest of the planet?

“Do you think that something has happened to Kathryn?” Seven asked anxiously, as she felt the dermal regenerator seal the cut on her forehead.

B’Elanna shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t even know who the hell’s shooting or why. Damn it, it makes no sense. Everybody liked us.”

“Everyone we were allowed to come in contact with,” Sek corrected, replacing the regenerator into her kit, patting Seven on the shoulder to indicate she was done. “I believe the L’Borna are experiencing an uprising from a sub-faction we were uninformed about in our original exchange of information.”

“That has nothing to do with us,” Seven protested. She got up and made her way to the cockpit, sitting down in the co-pilot’s seat as she looked around. “I see nothing.”

Projectiles rattled off the transparency of the front windows, making her jerk back in surprise though such archaic weaponry had no hope of penetrating a ship designed for space. “I do not understand,” she said, frustrated with her lack of data.

“I believe it is the L’Bree,” Sek said then, studying information she had brought up at the science station.

“Who the hell are they?” B’Elanna asked, frowning at the hologram.

“They are the faction who believe that space travel goes against the natural order,” Sek said.

“There’s always a few of them in every society,” B’Elanna said, waving her arms. “Usually they don’t or can’t start wars. They’re generally dismissed as cranks.”

“In most cases,” Sek agreed. “However, in this one, they had an asteroid bearing down on their homeworld to back up their contention that the L’Borna would be punished if they did not withdraw from space. A great number of people in the past few months flocked to their cause, and I imagine the faction leaders were considerably disappointed when the asteroid was destroyed.”

“That is illogical,” Seven said flatly.

“Fanatics usually are,” B’Elanna told her. “Sek, are you saying that they had the end of the world all foretold, and we messed that up?”

“Yes,” Sek said. “This is the line of investigation I was following last night. Apparently, they believed that the asteroid was not going to actually hit the world, but rather it was going to explode over the atmosphere, seeding the world with all good things, and according paradise to all who follow the L’Bree path. We, and of course, the government, prevented that from happening.”

“We are their enemies,” Seven replied frowning as she squinted through the smoke. “What should we do?”

“I’m guessing that the Captain is finding herself in a bit of a mess at the moment,” the Klingon said, slipping into the chair next to Seven. “I don’t think we should stick around for the rest of the show. Let’s find the captain and the others and see how fast we can catch up to Voyager.”

“Agreed.” Seven activated the sensors, as B’Elanna initiated the flight sequence. “Scanning for lifesigns,” she said. “I’m picking up communicator signals approximately seven hundred and twenty-nine kilometers north by northwest.”

“Then that’s where we’re going,” B’Elanna said as she lifted off.

A hail of gunfire bracketed the ship as they rose from the ground and turned to the north. Through the viewports, Seven could see various L’Borna dressed in a bright shade of yellow moving through the city, engaged with the red-clad government forces. Occasionally, individuals from both sides would fire randomly at them with hand weapons, then she saw a group perched on a rooftop readjusting the aim of a large tube, a gout of flame spouting from one end as smoke rolled over the group, obscuring them from sight. She did not identify their markings.

“We have an incoming projectile off the port bow,” Seven remarked.

“Old-style missiles,” B’Elanna replied shortly. “Nothing to worry about.”

Indeed, there was only a minor impact as the missile hit them, and Seven realized that was why their attackers had waited until the Starfleet crew had set down and were exiting the runabout. If it hadn’t been for Sek being a hologram, and able to increase the gravimetric elements that turned her form into an impenetrable shield, it would have killed Seven, and possibly B’Elanna as well. She felt a chill as that realization struck her, and worry for Kathryn’s safety made her even more unsettled.

“Can you increase our velocity?” she asked anxiously.

“Not in an atmosphere,” B’Elanna responded testily. “ETA to our people?”

“Uncertain. They are continuing to move,” Seven said. “However, we have left the area of interference.” She touched the controls. “Mississippi to Janeway. Please respond.”

“Janeway here,” came the crisp response. “What is it? Have the power plant’s repairs been completed?”

B’Elanna and Seven exchanged glances. Apparently, the captain was totally unaware that war had been declared in the capital city. It made B’Elanna wary, and she put a restraining hand on Seven’s wrist, cautioning her. Seven raised an eyebrow, handed the conn over to the Engineer.

“Captain, can we discuss something privately?” B’Elanna asked.

There was a pause. Obviously, the captain was either making excuses … or was she being threatened? The pair waited breathlessly until finally the captain’s throaty tones were once more coming over the channel.

“What’s this about, Lieutenant?”

“Throwing up a topspin lob, Captain,” B’Elanna said.

Seven regarded her with respect. That was a code devised by the captain based on one of her favorite sports, intended so that the crew could determine if the line was clear, and it was safe to talk.

There was another pause, though Seven thought she heard the startled intake of breath.

“Overhead smash to baseline,” the captain returned with the correct response. “Go ahead.”

“Captain, all hell is breaking loose in the capital,” B’Elanna explained tersely. “Some sort of uprising or war is breaking out. We were fired upon as we left the runabout.”

“Casualties?”

“Seven got banged up a little,” B’Elanna said. “Mostly, it’s L’Borna dead. Sek thinks it’s a faction called the L’Bree, a religious group who were disappointed the asteroid didn’t crash into the planet.”

“Where are you now?”

“Approximately one hundred kilometers southeast of you,” B’Elanna explained. “We can beam you to the shuttle now if you’d like?”

“Negative,” Janeway said. “I need you to–”

Communication was abruptly cut off, and with wide eyes, Seven stared at B’Elanna who looked equally startled, but the Klingon shook it off quickly. “Get a lock on them,” the Chief Engineer ordered. “Beam them to the runabout, immediately.”

“The captain rejected that offer,” Seven reminded her, even as she keyed the instructions into the transporter.

“That was before she was interrupted,” B’Elanna said. “Energize.”

The low hum of the transporter cut through the air, and all three females turned in their chairs to see the three Voyager crewmembers materialize on the pad, looking mussed as if they had just been in a scuffle.

“Quick thinking, Lieutenant,” the captain said, raking her fingers through her hair as she found a seat along with the other two. “Apparently my communication was not as private as I had hoped.”

“They drew weapons on us,” Neelix said in a tone of outrage. “They were going to kill us.”

“What’s going on?” Paris asked, looking from one face to the other. “Why did the L’Borna pull weapons on us? Why did they go back and drag the captain out of the lavatory?”

“War,” Seven said, aware of Janeway frowning as the captain saw the blood staining the front of the Borg’s outfit. “From Sek’s data, we believe there was an uprising involving a faction called the L’Bree and the ruling body.”

“Who was with us?” Neelix asked, eyes wide.

“Who knows?” Paris said dryly. “We didn’t wait around for them to identify themselves.”

Seven looked at B’Elanna evenly. “I guess you have your wish after all,” she said. “To return to Voyager sooner than expected.”

B’Elanna shook her head.

“I wish,” she responded glumly. “I just did a reading on the ion storm. It’s intensified and settled in the system. Looks like we’re stuck on this planet for awhile.” She glanced behind them. “Orders?”

Janeway lowered her head, eyes narrowing as she thought. “Find us a nice, safe, out-of-the-way spot,” she instructed. “Where we can’t be detected by the L’Borna from either side. I have no wish to become involved in a planetary squabble, nor have I any intention of taking on an ion storm.”

“Understood,” B’Elanna said. She glanced at Seven. “Try for a scenic spot,” she added in a low undertone. “With lots of room for two people to avoid each other.”

Seven nodded briefly, and bent over her sensor readings.

The Mississippi landed in a remote, mountainous region in the center of the planet’s main continent. Sensors indicated there were no L’Borna lifesigns within five hundred kilometers, and from the wild, untamed look of the forest surrounding the glacial lake the runabout landed next to, there was no trace to indicate anyone else had ever been here. Immediately, an away team consisting of Sek, Neelix and Paris, disembarked from the cramped runabout, breaking out the habitats, and setting up the camp while Seven and B’Elanna used the small vessel’s systems to scan the storm in space, trying to figure out how long it was destined to last. From their readings, the news was not promising.

“I’m sorry, Captain,” B’Elanna told Janeway who was supervising the proceedings. “The storm looks like it’s stalled within the system itself, which means it could last another two days … or another two months.”

Janeway nodded, frowning as she contemplated the information. Knowing Chakotay as she did, he would keep Voyager at station-keeping for as long as he could, then would probably backtrack to the L’Borna system when the storm eased. She believed he wouldn’t endanger the ship, but she also knew that with the ion storm preventing communication, he would be considerably worried about them.

Things just never seemed to go easy when they encountered a new species in the Delta Quadrant, the captain thought with a rueful sigh. She tried to remember how first contact went in the Alpha Quadrant, and finally had to admit privately that things had a way of going just as wrong there.

“What about flying through the storm?” she asked, resting her hands on her hips.

B’Elanna winced, shook her head. “Believe me, Captain, being stuck here is the last thing I want,” she said honestly. “But it would be insane to try to go through a storm of that density. We wouldn’t get a light-year before all the systems would be off line, including life support.”

Janeway dipped her head in acknowledgment. That was about what she thought, but she had to examine all possibilities. She looked toward the runabout door as Neelix entered. “What’s our status regarding the food supply?” she asked him.

He smiled reassuringly at her. “We have a full stock of Starfleet survival supplies,” he responded. That meant a crew of six could survive for up to six months just on what the runabout could supply. “However, the hills around us are full of ingredients, Captain, compatible with our digestive systems. I can whip up any number of tasty dishes from them. There’ll be no need to live off those nasty old rations at all.”

The captain eyed him covertly. What Neelix thought was compatible, and what she liked to eat were sometimes two completely different things, but it would be inexcusably rude to mention that, or try to get Seven to take over the cooking.

“I look forward to it,” she lied pleasantly.

“Excellent,” he said. “I’m working on a stew from the various fungi growing in the forest. If I could get your permission to press Sek and Paris into helping me gather them?”

“Go ahead,” Janeway nodded. She watched him disappear out the door, and shifted her glance to the other two women who were regarding her sardonically.

“Fungus stew?” B’Elanna said in a tone of disgust. “I think I’d rather have Starfleet rations.”

Janeway eyed her admonishingly. “Not when there’s other foodstuffs available,” she reminded her.

B’Elanna shook her head in resigned dismay, but threw a grin Seven’s way. “I hate away missions,” she muttered. “Especially away missions in the great outdoors.”

“I will attempt to seek out mechanical problems on the runabout,” Seven offered the engineer blandly. “If it will occupy your time.” Janeway felt the corners of her mouth quirk as she realized Seven was gently teasing Lt. Torres.

“Thanks, Annika, you’re a real pal,” B’Elanna replied dryly, giving her the evil eye.

Janeway raised a brow. B’Elanna’s utilization of Seven’s real name surprised her. She hadn’t realized the pair had gotten that close, and contrasting it to the way they had initially gotten along, she found it both amusing and heartening. However, she worried occasionally about the Klingon’s influence over the still very impressionable young woman.

As opposed to your influence, you mean? her little voice noted archly. B’Elanna’s just giving her a balance to offset the staid, by-the-book, conservative approach you have to take all the time. What’s wrong with that? My god, even Seven has been showing a little more imagination than you have lately, especially when she came up with that holodeck fantasy. Wouldn’t it be nice to be able to show Seven your wilder side just once? You do still have it, don’t you? That side that went diving in the underground caves of Mars even though you were forbidden? Or have you completely forgotten how important it is to do crazy things now and again?

Janeway stifled a sigh, trying to ignore her inner voice though she couldn’t deny that it was beginning to bother her. As a Starfleet captain, she was expected to maintain a certain amount of decorum whenever she wore the uniform, and in the Delta Quadrant, unfortunately, she always wore the uniform. There were no leave of absences here, no opportunity for her to depart Voyager for a visit to Risa, or Earth, no chance for a vacation that would allow Seven and her to be alone together, no possibility of leaving Starfleet completely behind. For a moment, the four pips adorning her collar seemed unbearably heavy.

Maybe I should let Seven go, she thought bleakly. Let her be young and free to do what she wants. Good god, she didn’t even volunteer to be a member of my crew. That’s a role I forced her to play, demanding she accede to Starfleet protocols.

Lost in these dismal thoughts, she was unaware of B’Elanna leaving the runabout to check out the camp. As if sensing something was amiss, Seven took the opportunity to drift over to Janeway and then, when they remained alone, she wrapped her up in a warm embrace. Feeling very vulnerable and uncertain, Janeway slid her arms around the slim shoulders, and buried her head in the warm hollow of the taller woman’s neck.

“What is troubling you?” Seven asked quietly in her ear.

Janeway gave a short bark of unamused laughter. “What makes you think anything is?” she asked, not looking up.

“Your face,” Seven explained. “It was very subtle, but I could determine from it that you were unhappy. Why are you unhappy?”

Janeway breathed deep the scent of the younger woman, the delicate fragrance of healthy female laced with the faintest tang of metal, and an odd but pleasant little odor that was unique to Seven of Nine. Her partner grew more and more perceptive every day, she realized with a certain amount of surprise … and gratitude.

“Silly thoughts,” Janeway admitted softly. “Insecurities, fears. Nothing I can’t get over. I guess I’m worried about the ship and the away team. I’m worried about us.”

She hadn’t meant to admit to that last one. It had slipped out inadvertently before she had a chance to swallow it back.

“The ship is fine and in good hands,” Seven said with cool, analytical precision, observing her closely. “The away team is in good health, we have plenty of food and shelter, and it is unlikely any L’Borna from either side can detect us. As for ‘us’, I am unaware of anything negatively affecting our relationship. Would you care to elaborate?”

“Not really,” Janeway said slowly. “Not right now, at any rate. Besides, it’s nothing major, darling, just my own mind causing uncertainties where none exist. Maybe later, if we have a chance to be alone, I’ll talk to you about it.”

“Very well,” Seven said agreeably.

Janeway felt the arms tighten about her, and she raised her face, looking up into the pale, fine features of the younger woman. With a quiet pleasure, Seven bent her head and covered Janeway’s mouth with her wonderful full lips, kissing her with a slow, easy thoroughness. For a blissful moment, Janeway allowed the embrace, wanting nothing more than to stay this way forever, but the situation, and her duty, made her reluctantly, but firmly pull away.

She caught herself looking at the blood staining Seven’s outfit, a rusty, dark shape spreading over the upper part of the Borg’s chest, feeling herself grow a little light-headed. She touched it with trembling fingertips, trying to keep her face impassive.

“Obviously you’re all right,” Janeway said, swallowing hard. “However, I’m sorry you were hurt.”

“Sek treated me promptly,” Seven reassured, resting her hands on the captain’s shoulders. “They were minor flesh wounds only, though I will admit that if she had not altered her matrix mass to an impenetrable shield, I, and possibly B’Elanna who was behind me, might have been killed by the concussion. We had no warning. It is fortunate you decided to keep the Sek program rather than delete it.”

“I guess so,” Janeway said, a dull, deep anger rising within her at those who would threaten the ones she held dear. She hadn’t realized just how much danger her crew had been in. “I’ll make sure to add a commendation for her in my mission log.”

“I think she would like that,” Seven agreed gently.

Janeway, startled by the sentiment, looked up at her, eyes suddenly soft, a small smile curling one side of her mouth. “She is sentient, isn’t she,” she noted wistfully. “I made the right decision.”

“You always make the right decision,” Seven noted with utter certainty. “Even when I don’t agree.”

Janeway took a breath. “Not always,” she replied, surprising herself with her confession. “So far, they’ve all worked out, however.”

She thought of the decision she had made to interfere with the Borg/Species 8472 conflict. It had violated the Prime Directive, and a host of other personal and ethical protocols, some of which she realized only in retrospect but were it not for that decision, she would never have met Seven. There was no question in her mind, given the same circumstances, just for that single, wonderful result, she’d do it again in a heartbeat.

“I love you, Kathryn,” Seven said, looking at her intently. “Always.”

Janeway smiled. “I love you, too, darling,” she said.

“However, you need to hear it, now,” Seven said slowly, as if trying to find the right words. “I do not know how I know that, but I do. You need to know that I love you.”

Janeway stared at her in surprise for a moment, then let herself surrender once more, her head bending forward to rest on the stained chest as she wrapped her arms around the Borg’s slender waist. “You’re right, Annika,” she admitted softly. “I did need to hear it. Maybe more than I knew.”

“Then I needed to tell you,” Seven responded, sounding pleased that she had made the right conclusion.

Janeway snuggled into the woman’s embrace, closing her eyes even as she knew she was stealing precious moments from attending the hundred and one things that needed to be addressed on an away mission that had subsequently become a survival outing in the mountains. It just felt so good to be held in these arms, to be sheltered and protected from the outside universe for this brief period of time. Seven seemed to sense that, holding the captain lovingly as she stroked the short, auburn hair lightly, with a warm comfort.

“I do love you, Annika,” Janeway said fiercely. “With all my heart.”

“I know,” Seven responded with gentle assurance, kissing her temple.

Then, Janeway heard the sound of voices outside raised in an argument and with a sigh, she felt Seven release her, and they both left the shuttle to see what was going on.

Seven raised her eyebrow as she observed Paris and Torres standing nose-to-nose with each other, yelling at the top of their lungs, their faces flushed dark with fury. Neelix and Sek were nowhere to be seen, and the Borg presumed they were off gathering fungi for the Talaxian’s stew. She suppressed a delicate shudder at the thought, and refocused her attention on the two Voyager crewmembers standing in the middle of the camp, raging at each other.

She was aware of Janeway moving forward, clearly wanting to get involved, and Seven snagged her partner’s elbow, holding her back in the shadows of the runabout, their arrival still unnoticed. Seven realized that the captain had a certain proprietary interest in each and every crewmember, but in this case, perhaps it would be best if they both stayed out of it. The conflict appeared to be clearing the air between the two ex-lovers, despite the high decibel count of their conversation, and Seven judged that the insults being swapped lacked the vehemence that she had heard in previous incidents.

Janeway looked up at her, obviously wondering at the hand on her elbow, and Seven regarded her intently. “They need to bring this to a conclusion,” she said softly. “Without our input.” She added pointedly, “When we are in conflict, we do not appreciate interference from anyone else.”

Seven saw Janeway take a slow breath, and knew her partner was not convinced, but she seemed willing to stand by, at least, for the moment.

“Look, I’m sorry, I slept with Jennifer,” Tom was saying, “but you’re just milking it now. I know you and Chakotay have been spending a few nights together, so it’s not like you’re the injured party here anymore.”

“But I wasn’t with someone while I was supposed to be with someone else,” B’Elanna snarled back.

“For the last time, I thought you were dead,” he snapped bitterly. “But who knows, maybe this is for the best. God knows, there are plenty of women on Voyager who would be more than glad to spend time with me. Women with better looks, better temperament, and a lot better sense of humor.”

Seven thought that was a bit unwise. Paris should not be bringing comparisons between lovers into the discussion. That was just asking for a countering argument, perhaps involving Chakotay and certain measurements.

“I appreciated you just fine,” B’Elanna spat scornfully. “More than you deserved.”

“No, I was more than you deserved,” he responded. “It’s not like you were that great in bed. My god, it was more like a wrestling match half the time than anything else.”

Seven raised an eyebrow as she saw how that obviously stung B’Elanna, and fastened her hand securely over Janeway’s mouth, forestalling the comment the captain had no doubt been about to say to interrupt the unhappy couple. Seven was aware of astounded blue-grey eyes looking at her over the muzzling hand, but the younger woman did not remove it, maintaining her grip securely.

B’Elanna was starting toward Tom, fists clenched, then, to everyone’s amazement, she stopped and suddenly started to laugh. “I give up on you, Paris,” she said indifferently. “You’re not worth my effort anymore.” She raked him up and down with a disdainful look, and stalked off.

Paris seemed uncertain what to do next, as well he should, Seven considered. Once a Klingon had dismissed someone in that manner, it was over and done, no longer an issue. Nothing he could do or say would ever change that. She saw that Paris was somehow cognizant of that cultural truth, and with a face that was suddenly bleak, he strode away in the opposite direction.

“Mmmphh.”

“Excuse me?” Seven said, removing the hand.

“I said, you can take your hand off my mouth now,” Janeway said with a certain amount of annoyance. “Seven, do you realize what just happened here?”

“Yes,” Seven said. “Their constant bickering is at an end. Even if Lt. Paris wishes to continue it, B’Elanna will refuse to participate. He is unworthy of her notice, and as a warrior, she will not lower herself to form a conflict with him. Assuming she adopts a purely Klingon attitude toward this.”

Janeway frowned. “It was almost as if he was trying to push her into that,” she said.

“Perhaps he was,” Seven said sagely.

She was aware of Janeway glancing at her, and she met her gaze evenly until the captain looked away uncertainly. “Sometimes I think you know us better than we know ourselves,” she said quietly.

“Borg objectivity,” Seven noted calmly. “It is easier to formulate conclusions when one is not so close to the situation.”

“Or maybe you’re just wiser than you give yourself credit for,” Janeway said. The captain shook her head then, as if to remind herself that there was work still to be done. “I need to take a reading on that lake.”

Without further digression, she left the shelter of the runabout, and strode briskly across the grassy clearing, drawing out her tricorder as she walked. She trotted down the small rise, then picked her way gingerly across the shore of rocks and pebbles toward the lake which was a deep, clear blue, reflecting the snow-capped purple mountains in its azure depths.

For lack of anything else to do, and the fact that she’d rather be with Kathryn than anyplace else in the universe, Seven followed, activating her tricorder as well.

“There are lifeforms in the water,” Seven noted as she paused beside the captain, studying her tiny screen closely. “A large variety, too many to identify.”

“Fish,” Janeway explained, kneeling by the water lapping gently on the rocky shore. “Insects, microscopic life. All manner of living creatures. An entire ecology.”

“Indeed?” Seven said with interest.

Though her parents had been exobiologists, and her education had been vast as a Borg, Seven’s knowledge of nature, and all its lifeforms working in environmental harmony, was not nearly as extensive as her knowledge of technology. Born in space, Seven had spent most of her existence in artificial life support, while her parents pursued the study of a very technologically based species. Of course the Borg were not interested in studying other species … they merely assimilated them. Seven supposed that her parents had occasionally taken her planetside during her formative years, but she had no real memory of it, and her experiences on Voyager were also fairly limited. Seven knelt beside the captain, mimicking her motion as she dabbled her fingers in the water.

“It is very cold,” she noted. “Not like the ocean water I touched. That was warm. This is almost damaging in its temperature.”

Janeway regarded her with some surprise, then her face softened. “I don’t suppose you have a lot of experience in the great outdoors,” she said quietly. She pointed at the mountains. “This is fresh water, Seven, not like a salt ocean. The white area, running down most of that peak? That’s a glacier, and as it melts, it feeds the lake here. That’s why it’s so cold.” She looked regretful. “Which is too bad. A swim would have been nice.”

“‘A swim’?”

Janeway looked surprised again. She shook her head with what seemed impatience with herself. “Yes, Seven,” she said. “I don’t know why I’m surprised you don’t know what that is, but then, I keep forgetting you didn’t grow up on a planet. Swimming is something like bathing, only in a large pool of water. Humans do it for recreation.”

Seven considered that for a long moment, searching her memories. “Swimming must have been considered irrelevant by the Collective,” she said finally. “I do not have the skill.”

She was surprised, but charmed, when Janeway took the hand she had splashed in the water with, clasping it between her palms to warm it. “Then, I will teach you,” Janeway said softly, looking at her with a gentle expression.

“Now?” Seven regarded her with surprise.

“Oh no, not in this,” Janeway smiled. “That would be an invitation for hypothermia. No, when we get back to the ship, I’ll program a pool into the holodeck.”

“All right,” Seven agreed. She hesitated. “I find holodecks are not as … complete as reality. Are you aware of that?”

Janeway raised a brow. “Yes, I am,” she said. “No matter how good the simulation, there’s always a sense that it’s not real, not completely accurate.”

“Would us making love on the real bridge be better than our experience of a few nights ago?” Seven asked.

Janeway got the expression on her face that Seven learned to recognize as the captain suppressing her initial response, and instead, trying to formulate a thoughtful, more comprehensive answer.

“I don’t know,” Janeway said finally. “Maybe it would, but then again, the reality might be worse. What made that evening so special to me, Annika, was not the fantasy itself, but that you made such an effort to try to make my fantasy come true. That means more to me than I can ever express.” She squeezed the hand between hers gently. “No one has ever loved me as much as you do, darling. No one has ever tried so hard to please me, to know me so thoroughly. If I don’t always remember to say it, know it for absolute truth. You are absolutely the best thing that ever has or ever will happen to me.”

Seven felt a heavy blush of pleasure color her cheeks as she listened to these words of vulnerability and need so rarely offered by the captain.

“You are the best thing that ever happened to me,” she responded huskily.

“I hope so, Annika,” Janeway said with a slight hitch to her voice, looking away. Her eyes seemed to take on a grey tinge, saddened somehow as she gazed over the waters of the lake.

Seven suddenly realized that the captain did not believe her, that somehow Janeway did not know that her presence in Seven’s life was necessary. In fact, Kathryn was suddenly giving every indication that she thought she was somehow unworthy of being the younger woman’s partner. Seven thought such an idea was patently ridiculous but then, Janeway had a way of worrying about things that never would have occurred to the Borg, yet completely missed things that truly bothered Seven, like showing up late for dinner without apology, or leaving things laying around in their quarters.

She leaned over and wrapped her arms around Janeway, pulling her close. “Without you,” she said softly. “I am incomplete. The difference between a simulation and reality. Without you, I am pure intellect, a drone, single and alone, functioning, but not alive. You make me real. With you, I feel, I love, I am. You are everything that makes me alive.”

Janeway caught her breath and hugged her back, and Seven felt tears dampen her shoulder.

“I did not mean to make you cry,” Seven told her.

“You are the only one who can,” Janeway whispered. “Starfleet Command should know how easy we captains can be defeated with just mere words from the Borg.”

“I suspect it is just one certain captain,” Seven responded with a faint smile. “And a single Borg drone.”

“I suspect you’re right.” Janeway managed a laugh.

They heard the sound of voices coming from the forest, and Seven released her, allowing Janeway the moment she needed to compose herself before facing any of her crew. The young woman stared at the lake before her, and tried to imagine what swimming would be like, how it would feel to be in water vaster and deeper than any tub. When she glanced at her partner again, Janeway’s command mask was back, stoic, controlled. Kathryn was a woman of great warmth, and her crew knew that, but how gentle a heart she really had, how vulnerable a soul she housed in that energetic little body? Only Seven would be privy to those hidden depths.

Seven decided that was more than merely acceptable.

The fire crackled cheerfully, lifting the shadows of night, and providing a circle of golden, flickering light for the Mississippi team. Sparks danced up into the star-studded darkness, and from where she sat on the stairs leading to the runabout, Janeway felt like a child again, sitting in her back yard on a cool summer’s evening in Indiana. Across the fire, she could see Seven and B’Elanna sitting together, heads bent as they discussed god only knew what, looking furtive and completely up to no good. B’Elanna brought out a playful side to Seven in a way that Janeway did not, less competitive and more frivolous. The captain was painfully cognizant of the fact that Seven had been denied a childhood and adolescence, and if that lingering need sometime displayed itself while in the company of the engineer, then the least Janeway could do was look the other way and make allowances for it. The fact that, by extension, she ended up making allowances for B’Elanna as well, which she suspected the Klingon was starting to realize, was an unfortunate side effect, but perhaps one she could afford for Seven’s sake.

Sitting to the side, making sure both Neelix and Sek were between him and B’Elanna, Tom Paris stared pensively into the flames. Janeway’s heart went out to him, but like most things, she knew he would get over it. He was a remarkably resilient young man, ready to bounce back from all life’s little obstacles with just a little encouragement. Indeed, he would occasionally glance over at Sek with a certain speculative expression on his boyish features. Janeway took a breath, trying not to think about that one. She didn’t even want to start contemplating all the aggravation that would cause, not to mention the sheer complications of a Human/holographic relationship.

Neelix was regaling Sek with the recipe for his fungus stew, which despite tasting somewhat musty, managed to stay down. However, Janeway would just about kill at the moment for one of Seven’s potato, corn and beef casseroles. Or even one of her cookies. The young Borg hadn’t quite managed to learn how to prepare food completely from scratch like Janeway’s mother had, but Seven still had an amazing touch with the replicated ingredients, even starting to experiment by altering the recipe slightly on occasion to see what resulted, and so far, most had been very successful. The mark of a natural-born chef.

Janeway wondered if Annika’s real mother would have taught her daughter to cook if given the opportunity. Somehow, Janeway doubted it. Where Janeway’s parents had lived in an agricultural park on Earth, conducting themselves as staunch Traditionalists, which had been a constant source of embarrassment to a young Kathryn growing up, Seven’s parents had been scientists, space explorers, proudly unconventional even in Federation terms. It was still surprising to the captain that Seven seemed far better suited to Janeway’s family than the captain sometimes was. However, it warmed her to know that both Gretchen and Kathryn’s younger sister, Phoebe, had completely accepted and loved Seven when she had been stranded in the Alpha Quadrant. It gave the couple a renewed sense of home awaiting their eventual return.

Janeway found herself suddenly missing that home with profound intensity, the sudden awareness of the distance between her and Earth creating a deep, throbbing pain inside her. When she looked up, the stars were all wrong, and the sounds around her, the soft calls of the L’Borna night creatures, were unfamiliar, achingly so. Feeling adrift and very close to tears, she quietly got up and left the circle of light, making her way down to the lakeshore where she listened to the soft lapping of the water against the pebbles. A large moon was rising above the mountains surrounding them, casting a silvery luminescence on the water, and she stared at the orb, feeling even more lost and alone when she saw, not the easily identifiable features of Luna, but the odd craters and crevices of the L’Borna satellite.

She shivered in the breeze that sprang up over the water, stirring little wavelets, and she hugged herself tightly, feeling isolated from everyone and everything she had ever known. Suddenly, two strong arms were pulling her back against a warm lanky body, while a silvery thermo-insulated sleeping bag was draped around them both.

She huddled gratefully in the embrace, closing her eyes and leaning her head back, feeling the soft breath stir her hair, the gentle brush of lips against her temple.

“How do you always know when I need you?” she asked quietly.

“I love you,” Seven responded simply.

Janeway smiled, and turned so that she could face her partner, raising her face to Seven’s kiss, the touch soft and gentle, barely touching her mouth to hers. It sent a tingle through the captain, and she parted her lips, encouraging a deeper taste to which Seven immediately responded, pressing closer.

“Where?” Seven whispered against her, pulling the captain closer to herself. Her thigh pressed insistently against Janeway’s groin, warm and inviting.

Janeway drew back for an instant, knowing immediately what was being asked, and glanced around quickly, spotting the silver mass of a tree trunk which had undoubtedly been deposited on the grassy knoll during the high water of spring thaw, well away from the sounds and light of the campsite. “There,” she responded.

They linked hands as they picked their way over the rocky shoreline to where the grass began. Circling the huge log, they put the bulk of the driftwood between them and the runabout, finding a hollow in its leeward side. They opened the sleeping bag and spread it over the soft turf, crawling into the flannel-like interior, and wrapping themselves around each other with pleasurable anticipation.

Janeway snuggled deep into the loving embrace, feeling the warmth surround her, staving off the night air which had become crisp, as well as the cold loneliness that had crept over her. She managed to find the catch at the back of Seven’s neck, undoing it and pulling the outfit down to the woman’s waist.

“You are so beautiful,” she whispered huskily as she ran her fingertips over the full breasts, the delicate pink nipples hardening immediately. She felt, rather than saw, Seven smile against her cheek as the Borg wormed her hands into the Starfleet tunic, loosening it with practiced ease, drawing it off as Janeway twisted to help her.

This is not exactly the best place to make love, the captain thought as they managed to finish undressing each other in the warm cocoon of the sleeping bag, tossing the discarded clothes out onto the grass. After all, there was a perfectly good runabout not too far away, and a habitat set up for them nearby. However, so were the rest of the away team, closer than Janeway could be comfortable with. Here at least, in the sheltering shadow of the tree trunk, she and Seven were alone, apart from everyone else, with just the dark surrounding them, the soft sounds of water filling their ears, the stars twinkling down on them from above, and each other with whom to completely occupy themselves.

Seven’s slender body felt incredibly hot against Janeway, almost fevered as it pressed against hers, and Kathryn clung to her, kissing her passionately as she felt the woman’s hands slide over her with comforting familiarity. This was like being home, Kathryn thought wistfully. Safe, warm, protective, and oh so sweet. Seven knew exactly how to hold her, where to touch her, what she needed at any given moment, and the gentle caresses drew whimpers of delight from her, quiet moans that she tried to muffle against the smooth skin of Annika’s shoulder.

She felt Seven’s fingers on her breasts, caressing the soft swells of flesh, stroking the hard little nipples that tingled beneath the gentle fingertips. Kathryn arched and entwined her legs with her lover’s lengthy ones, kissing Seven again and again. She was consumed by the wonderful taste of Annika, the full lips that moved over hers so skillfully, the tongue that darted and played inside her mouth, dancing over wet tissue and teeth, teasing her own tongue. She kept stroking Seven’s back, adoring the long silky smoothness of it, sliding up the gentle bumps of spine to the back of her neck where the fine hairs tickled her fingertips, then back down to the soft hollow at the base where it spread out to the generous swells of Seven’s firm buttocks. She traced the starburst metal of twin implants set in each dimple above the cheeks, knowing how much it meant to Seven that she not avoid the reminders of the Collective which were still very much a part of the young woman.

She moaned as Seven reached down between them, and drew Kathryn’s thigh up to rest on the Borg’s hip, sliding her hand languidly along the thick muscle. Her powerful left arm encircled the captain’s back, pulling her against the lanky torso, and taking advantage of her greater reach and longer arms, she slid her hand down between them to touch Kathryn gently, slipping her fingers into the moist heat, rubbing over the aching ridge that made Janeway jerk and cling tighter to her.

“Oh, darling, that feels so good,” Kathryn murmured, burying her head into the hollow of Seven’s neck, gripping her shoulders with tense fingers as waves of pleasure rippled through her.

“I want you to feel good,” Seven told her huskily, fondling her with gradually increasing pressure, intensifying the caress.

Janeway felt her lips draw back over her teeth as she felt Seven dip lower, the fingers swirling around her entrance, then penetrating so gently, carefully, filling her with their warmth and strength. She groaned as Seven caressed her internally, not thrusting, but gently stroking the velvet-slick walls of her interior even as the Borg brought her thumb over the firm little center of Kathryn’s desire, flicking it back and forth. Kathryn gasped for breath, panting as she felt sweat dampen her forehead, and she made a soft guttural sound when Seven’s fingertips found the smooth, intimate area of sensation inside her. She bit her lip, trying to hold back the noise she wanted to make, the scream of delight struggling for release in her throat, turning it to a deep moan of sheer pleasure as she felt her body start to spasm. Her breath a sob, she shuddered helplessly in her climax, squeezing tight the fingers inside her, pulsating around them, drawing them deeper inside, her nails digging into the muscles of Seven’s slender back. Blindly, she searched for Seven’s mouth, feeling it close over hers possessively, capturing the cries she could no longer stifle.

After a blissful eternity that passed far too quickly, she felt the spasms finally subside, and Seven gently released the kiss, freeing her lips, nuzzling her cheek and jaw with loving tenderness.

“Oh god, Annika,” she whispered, swallowing hard in a mouth gone dry from her struggle to draw breath. “Oh, my love.”

“I am right here, Kathryn.” The voice, soft in her ear as she felt the long fingers slip out of her even as she regretted their loss. The strong arms enfolded her, pulling her close as Seven cradled her carefully, not pushing for her own desire, simply letting Janeway be, allowing her to enjoy the slow relaxation from muscles growing lax. “I will never let you go.”

Kathryn purred in the back of her throat, and kissed the line of Annika’s neck, feeling a delicious languor permeate every muscle, the sweet lassitude of satisfaction turning her lower body to liquid. She pressed against Seven, knowing that her partner was aroused, feeling the desire that burned in the young Borg, wanting to build that flame into a raging inferno which would overwhelm Seven, needing to pleasure her as deeply as she had been pleasured.

Luxuriously, she ran her fingers through the long, silky golden hair spilling over Seven’s shoulders, reaching up to kiss the woman again, slowly, gently, letting all the love and desire she had for her lover come through as best she could. She captured the full, bottom lip between hers, and sucked on it gently, probing it with her tongue, nibbling carefully with her teeth. Her hands drifted down the spine once more before reaching to trace the smooth line of Seven’s sides, the knobby ridges of her rib cage, resting briefly on the sharp hipbone. Janeway grasped the strong muscle of Seven’s thigh, parting the legs as she pushed her knee between them. She bent her leg, sliding up until she felt the soft, vulnerable wetness bathe the top of her thigh, sliding slick against the heat, and the hard little knot that skidded along the skin of her upper leg.

Seven moaned and rolled them over until she was on top of Kathryn, hips beginning to undulate as Janeway lowered her head to take a breast into her mouth, tongue dancing over the velvet hardness of nipple with hungry intent. Seven spread her legs farther apart, and thrust harder against Kathryn even as the captain pushed her thigh up into the tender flesh, increasing the friction. Janeway sucked and bit gently at the full breasts as she slid her hands around to the small of Seven’s back, running down to the muscled buttocks, grasping them firmly, pulling them against her as she helped Annika increase the resistance between them. Her fingers fell naturally into the crease between the soft swells, and she felt her fingers brush against the puckered orifice which caused Seven to rise up, pulling away from Kathryn’s mouth, throwing her head back as she groaned loudly despite her efforts to remain quiet, arms braced to either side of the captain’s shoulders.

Intrigued, Janeway touched Seven again with more intent, pressing her fingertips against the wrinkled circle as the young woman rocked on her, and she understood that the Borg was being pleasured by the intimate caress. The captain was very careful here, not attempting to penetrate her in any way, or wanting to try for too much and disrupt Seven who had achieved a steady rhythm. She simply let Seven know her fingertips were there, stroking her lightly as she thrust against her. Then, she felt the tip of her little finger slide just inside, gripped with incredible tightness, and Seven was shuddering above her, a choked cry issuing from her lips. Kathryn pressed her leg hard against Annika, guiding her through the climax until finally, the young woman lowered her body onto the captain, trying not to collapse completely, but trembling too hard to support herself.

Janeway wrapped her arms and legs around Seven, pulling her down onto her, able to bear the greater mass on her for these brief, precious moments that Annika needed to regain control over her senses. Then, the captain arched, able to roll them onto their sides, Seven still clinging to her.

Seven drew back a bit, trying to see her face in the dark.

“Kathryn,” she whispered uncertainly. “What did you do?”

Janeway smiled and kissed her gently. “Loved you,” she murmured quietly. “Discovered a little bit more about you. Something we’ll have to explore in greater detail at another time if you’d like.”

“I would,” Seven said in a wondering tone. “I have so many areas of my body that have so much sensation. Sensation I’m not aware of until you show me.”

Janeway pulled her close, thinking about that. “It could have to do with the recent removal of your implant,” she said pensively. “I know I’ve touched you there before, and you had no reaction whatsoever. I’m beginning to think a lot of your nerve endings were blocked or severed by that implant.” She nuzzled her gently. “Do you notice a difference since your operation?”

“Yes,” Seven said readily. “I grow tired more quickly, but I also feel so much more when you touch me now as opposed to how I felt before. It is very intense now. It is like…” She paused, trying to find the proper words to explain it. “Do you remember when we were in the turbolift while returning to our quarters after one of Neelix’s dance parties, and you touched me through my outfit?”

“Uh, yes,” Janeway replied, blushing furiously.

She had been feeling particularly randy that evening, and, to her own surprise, she had grabbed Seven in the turbolift and rubbed her firmly between her legs, kissing her hotly before suddenly letting her go, instantly composed as the lift doors opened. She walked out into the corridor with consummate dignity past Commander Chakotay and Lt. Kim who had been awaiting the lift, not deigning to look back, though she was aware that Seven had not immediately followed. The young woman had been completely flustered, flattened against the bulkhead of the lift, staring after the captain with wide-eyed astonishment, absolutely stunned.

Maybe I haven’t been so restrained with showing Seven my wilder side after all, Janeway thought ruefully.

“Before my operation, it was as if you were always touching me through a layer of material,” Seven explained. “Now when you touch me, it is as if you have removed that material.”

Janeway took a breath as her partner’s words penetrated. “Why didn’t you tell me, Seven?” she asked quietly. Clearly, Seven had not possessed complete use of her nerve endings and certainly, Janeway could not expect it to be localized just in the areas of sexual response. What other kind of damage did the Borg do to her beloved? Was any of it permanent?

“I did not know,” Seven pointed out. “Until it felt differently.”

“Of course, you didn’t, Seven,” Janeway said, hugging her gently. “That was a stupid question.”

“You are not stupid, Kathryn,” Seven reminded her. “You are the most intelligent Human I know.”

Janeway smiled. “I must be,” she agreed softly. “I was smart enough to fall in love with you.”

Seven made a pleased sound, and shivered in the crisp night air, huddling even closer to the woman in her arms. “I was intelligent enough to allow it,” she said, gently teasing.

Janeway bit gently at her chin in response, then sighed. “We have a problem,” she said.

“Indeed?”

“Yes, the temperature has dropped about ten degrees, and we should get to the protection of our habitat in order to sleep,” she said.

“That requires us to dress first,” Seven noted without enthusiasm. “Can we not sleep here?”

Janeway groaned. “We could,” she allowed, “but we’d regret it in the morning. There are at least three rocks under my hip. I don’t notice these things when I make love, but I certainly do when I’m trying to sleep.”

“Very well,” Seven agreed grudgingly. Without warning, she threw back the covering, and Janeway had to stifle a shriek of protest as the brisk night air hit her body, devoid not only of the sleeping bag, but of the warm and very pleasant Borg’s body next to her.

Shuddering, Janeway rolled to her feet, and the pair of them quickly yanked on their dew-dampened clothes before dashing back to the campsite. Everyone else had apparently retired for the evening, and the fire had been allowed to die down to glowing red coals. Hastily, they crawled into their temperature-controlled habitat, undressing once more, and rearranging their sleeping bag on the mattress which covered the insulated floor of the hut. It did not take long before they were once more curled around each other, sleep swiftly overcoming them.

Seven of Nine woke in the grey light of predawn, acutely aware of the body in her arms, deliciously soft and wonderfully warm. Smiling, she pressed close to the form with sleepy delight, feeling the smooth back against her breasts and stomach, the soft buttocks that fit neatly into her groin. She did so love waking up next to Kathryn. It was a profound pleasure, one that filled her with such supreme happiness that she could scarcely remember what it was like to terminate regeneration in an alcove. No, she decided, she did not miss her abdominal implant at all.

She nuzzled the auburn hair, felt her lover stir briefly in response, making a quiet sound of contentment before settling down into a deeper sleep, her breathing slow and deep. Seven wanted to stay here forever, where it was comfortable and cozy in the sleeping bag, wrapped around Kathryn for all eternity.

However, she had promised B’Elanna she would assist in the project the engineer was planning this morning, and from the stealthy sounds across the camp, she knew the Klingon was already on the move. With a great reluctance, Seven carefully untangled herself from Janeway and eased out of the warm cocoon. She froze as Kathryn stirred again, a murmur of protest on the captain’s lips, but Janeway did not wake, instead, curling up into a fetal position in the depths of the sleeping bag.

Seven let out a slow breath and crawled out of the habitat, wrapping her uniform around her torso to hide her attributes though, except for B’Elanna who eyed her sardonically, there was no one else up this early. The two women skittered across the wet grass on bare feet to the runabout, sealing the door. B’Elanna motioned with her head, indicating Seven could have the facilities first, and the Borg gratefully acceded. She would have preferred a hydro burst, but the shuttle was outfitted only with a sonic shower, so she utilized it quickly, the vibrations shaking away the dirt and dead skin with an efficient thoroughness. Seven replicated a new outfit, black like her Velocity workout outfit which left her arms bare to the shoulders, and slipped out of the small lavatory, barely avoiding B’Elanna who immediately darted into it.

As B’Elanna prepared herself, Seven replicated a mug of nutritional supplement that she knew would be enough to carry her through the day. As she sipped the clear, sweetish liquid, she looked out through the viewport lining the front of the runabout. A grey mist danced over the still waters of the lake, wisping like ghosts seeking shelter from the oncoming sun which was already beginning to suffuse the fog with a golden light. Seven shivered slightly, wondering why she felt apprehensive, then recognized the fact that B’Elanna’s plans were usually the sort that Kathryn did not always appreciate. However, the element of fun that always seemed to be present in them made her participation irresistible, even with the threat of the captain’s disapproval looming over her.

B’Elanna exited the head, and went over to the replicator, materializing a mug of coffee and a breakfast bar for herself. She ate quickly, then in a low undertone, directed Seven to help break out the containers from the compartment at the rear of the runabout. Moving quietly, they carried them down to the water’s edge, Seven watching curiously as the engineer activated the largest container which unfolded into a bright yellow, inflatable raft. B’Elanna tossed two oars into the boat, along with the rest of the other equipment before helping Seven into the red life jacket. She donned her own, and together, the two wrestled the raft over to the lake. They were just about to slide it into the deeper water when a slender form materialized from the mist.

“What’s going on here?” Captain Janeway asked coolly, eyes grey in the predawn.

B’Elanna yelped and whirled, hand pressed to her upper chest. “You scared three years out of me!” she objected.

“I find that unlikely,” Janeway said wryly. “You haven’t answered my question, Lieutenant.”

“We are going fishing,” Seven told her proudly.

“Do you like fishing, Seven?” Janeway asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I do not know what fishing is,” Seven responded honestly.

Beside her, Seven saw B’Elanna roll her eyes, and she thought she detected a hint of amusement in Kathryn’s even gaze.

“Why are you going fishing?”

“Because I’m not going to waste this wonderful lake,” B’Elanna responded with a touch of defiance. “I’m betting there’s a load of trout out there with our name on their little sides.” She regarded Janeway with careful consideration. “There’s an extra life jacket,” she added with a sly grin.

Janeway lowered her head a little. “I presume this is not a catch-and-release expedition,” she said.

B’Elanna shrugged. “You can release yours if you want,” she said, “but I’m going to keep anything I get. I’ll be damned if I’m gonna eat that leftover mushroom stew for the next two days.”

“Will you join us, Kathryn?” Seven asked. She smiled wistfully at the captain. “It will be more fun if you come.”

Janeway stared at her for a moment, her eyes softening perceptibly, and then nodded abruptly, reaching into the raft to pull out the other life jacket. Chortling quietly in triumph, B’Elanna pushed the raft onto the water, and the three gingerly climbed in. Janeway and Torres appropriated the oars, and with quiet splashes that barely rippled the surface, they paddled the raft out a certain distance, then began to follow the shoreline, looking for a likely area to find fish. Seven sat in the middle of the boat, cross-legged on the bottom, watching all this with lively interest, feeling warmed by the presence of her partner behind her, and her friend in front.

They found a quiet spot where the lake shallowed into the beginnings of a marsh, and B’Elanna unpacked the other containers which held long, thin metal rods. Seven observed closely as B’Elanna quickly strung hers with a fine filament, attaching a brightly colored object with a sharp hook at the end. With Kathryn’s help, Seven prepared her own tool which the captain told her was called a ‘fishing rod’, threading the ‘fishing line’ through the little metal guides. Her ‘lure’ was a silver and blue metallic object, and with Janeway on the seat behind her, arms wrapped around her to assist her action, Seven made her first ‘cast’, the line shooting over the still water with a quiet hiss before plopping into the lake.

“Nice,” B’Elanna said softly, already having sent her line spinning into the water. She eyed the captain briefly. “Done this before, have you?”

“Once or twice,” Janeway allowed in a tone so dry it threatened to suck up the lingering remains of the mist.

B’Elanna snickered, and pulled in her line, recasting.

Seven peered over her shoulder into Kathryn’s face. “What now?” she asked.

“Turn the lever,” the captain instructed quietly, resting her hands gently on the Borg’s shoulders. “That will pull the line in, dragging the lure through the water, making it look like prey. The key is to attract the fish into biting it where the hook will snag in its mouth, and you can haul it in.”

“How will I know that a fish has taken the bait?” Seven said, keeping her voice low. Apparently it was important to be quiet, much like sneaking into a building after becoming drunk. Perhaps fishing was also a covert operation.

“You’ll know,” Janeway said. “There’ll be a tug on the line, then a lot of resistance.” She grinned. “Which of course, would be futile.”

“Oh,” Seven said. She did as she was instructed, but when the lure finally left the water, it was still empty, dripping as the metal gleamed briefly in the sunlight now filtering through the mist to bring sparkles to the water around them. Seven gazed at it with profound disappointment. “It did not function.”

“It doesn’t always,” Janeway said with a smile. “So you try again … and again, until one of two things happen.”

“What two things?”

“You catch a fish…” Janeway began.

“Or you bust your rod in two, throw it in the water and go home,” B’Elanna finished for her.

Janeway actually laughed a little at that, and Seven looked back at her, surprised to see the relaxed grin on her lover’s face, the way the captain’s eyes sparkled a brilliant blue, reflecting the water and sun. This fishing is good for Kathryn, she thought. We must do more of it in the future.

“I will try again,” Seven said. With Janeway’s assistance once more, she cast out over the still water.

“Try turning slower,” Kathryn advised. “Make the lure a little more appealing.”

Seven did as instructed, decreasing the speed with which she brought in the lure. The day was beginning to warm up, and B’Elanna took off her tunic, rolling her sweater sleeves up over her forearms which showed well defined musculature as she flexed them, casting.

The boat had a slight, rocking motion, the bottom undulating beneath Seven where she sat, periodically casting as the captain lounged behind her. The Borg was aware of the water around them, a mass of sparkling shadows, while the purple, blue and white-capped mountains loomed majestically over them, almost comforting in their solid bulk. Seven could hear the captain’s soft exhalation of breath stirring the hair on top of her head, and there was a constant, gentle splash of tiny waves lapping against the raft. The long, green reeds stirring off to the side where the marsh settled, whispered low in the soft breeze that wafted around them, carrying with it the smells of the forest and lake. Seven could also detect the faint fragrance of Kathryn so close to her, a warm, musky scent, vaguely spicy from the soap she liked to use, the warmth of her body reaching out to surround her with a perceptible sense of love and devotion. Seven felt a profound and utter contentment fill her, this moment etching itself forever in her mind as one that was truly happy.

She glanced back, wondering if Janeway was feeling the same sense of peace. Kathryn’s face was composed, still, eternally calm, her bright eyes distant as she stared at the granite rock rising above them. On this side of the lake, the water butted up against the sheer cliffs and crystalline veins sparkled as they ran jagged up the rock face. She seemed to feel Seven’s eyes on her and she shifted her attention to her partner. Kathryn smiled at her then, warm, relaxed, completely at ease, teeth white against her wine-shaded lips, and she leaned against Seven, resting her forearms on the Borg’s shoulders.

“Ever rock climb, B’Elanna?” Janeway asked suddenly.

B’Elanna considered the mountain. “Not that one,” she warned gently. “Fun is fun, but that’s too much like work.”

Janeway brushed her lips close to Seven’s ear. “I think I shall have to teach you rock-climbing, love,” she said, her voice low, making the Borg tingle from the nearness of it.

“I would like that,” Seven responded. She was about to say more when she felt a sudden tug on her line. “I have something.”

Janeway’s hands were firm on her shoulders, keeping her from leaping up in her excitement, which probably would have capsized them all. “Easy, Annika,” she said, eyes glowing. “Just be calm. Pull it in gently.”

“It is struggling,” Seven noted, the rod flexing in her hands, tightening her grip to hold onto it. Her eyes were wide with astonishment and glee, especially when she saw the fish leap high in the air, a hefty silver form that poised for a breathless instant in the sun, before plunging back into the cool depths of the lake.

“It’s a big one,” B’Elanna noted professionally. “We’ll eat well today. Don’t lose it, Seven.”

“Let it exhaust itself,” Kathryn advised calmly. “B’Elanna, do you have a net?”

“Right here,” the engineer said, scooting to the side of the raft, a metal hoop with emerald netting attached to it. “Bring it into the side, Seven.”

Seven tried to listen to all this advice, the vibration from the rod making it hard to hang onto as she carefully turned the lever, the fish making difficult what once was easy. She thought she now understood the appeal of this endeavor … this ‘fishing’ … though she had been quite skeptical when B’Elanna had explained it the night before. It was fun, and very exciting trying to bring the creature to her, even though the relative comparison of brain capacity between her and a fish should have precluded any sort of challenge to it at all.

Finally, the fish was close enough to scoop into the net, and B’Elanna strained as she hauled the catch into the boat. Seven regarded it with huge eyes.

“It is so big,” she said.

“That it is, darling,” Janeway said with a laugh.

“Hold it up, Seven,” B’Elanna told her, handing the slimy creature to her.

Bemused, Seven grasped it tightly, her mesh covered left hand gripping the snapping head, her right holding tightly to the tail with a good two and a half feet in between. Janeway reached around her, helping hold onto the creature which did not seem willing to stay still, flopping in her grip as the captain worked the hook from it’s gaping jaws.

“Hurry up, Lieutenant,” Janeway ordered.

“Smile for posterity,” B’Elanna instructed, aiming her tricorder at them, recording their actions.

“What are you doing?” Seven asked, feeling her grip slip.

“Giving you proof,” B’Elanna said. “What every fisherman needs after the rest of the evidence is eaten.”

“Are we going to eat this?” Seven asked, feeling squeamish as she regarded the thing in her hands. Honestly, she knew the Klingon had that in mind when they started, but now that she actually was seeing the fish up close, it held very little appeal.

“Unless you want to throw it back,” Janeway offered. “You can release it if you want.”

“Yes,” Seven said. “I wish to let it go.”

“Oh, Seven,” B’Elanna said, staring at them both in astonished dismay. “You can’t mean it.”

“Yes,” Seven said. She glanced at Janeway, feeling her grip slip more as the fish seemed to sense she was about to free it, redoubling its flailing. “May I release it now?”

“Anytime,” Janeway said, smiling at her.

Seven heaved it away from her, sending it several yards away where it plunged into the lake with a mighty splash.

“Simply dropping it over the side would have worked as well,” Janeway offered mildly.

B’Elanna just looked disgusted. “Bleeding heart,” she said. She grabbed her rod and cast. “Maybe if I’m lucky, it’ll be stupid enough to hit again.” Almost immediately, her rod bent and she chortled happily as she started hauling in her catch. “A really dumb fish there.”

Seven raised an eyebrow as the top of the water was suddenly disturbed, and she sensed Janeway frowning beside her.

“That doesn’t look like the same fish,” Janeway noted worriedly.

Suddenly, B’Elanna’s catch rose out of the water.

And kept rising, higher and higher, the huge creature throwing a shadow over them as all three women gaped like children at an amusement park. Horn-like protrusions rising from its forehead, eyes glinting emerald in the sun as the horselike head wove back and forth on a serpentine neck which spouted from the bulk of the body still submerged in the roiling water. B’Elanna had let go of her rod, and it dangled, ludicrously small, out of the corner of immense jaws that were full of jagged teeth, its scales glowing iridescently in the mid-morning sun.

“This can’t be good,” B’Elanna muttered.

“Don’t move,” Janeway said quietly.

Seven just stared, eyes as wide as they would go, periodically remembering to close her mouth only to have it drop open again as soon as she refocused on the behemoth before her.

“Paris to Janeway.” The captain’s comm badge chirped. Three sets of eyes settled on Janeway’s chest in horror. “Captain, we’re being scanned. Sensors indicate two separate L’Borna forces heading in this direction, one a L’Bree detachment, the other, a government squad. We’re between enemies.”

Seven heard an audible gulp from B’Elanna, and a quieter one from Kathryn behind her.

It occurred to her that she probably should have remained in bed this morning.

Captain Janeway stared up at the creature with a dry mouth, acutely aware of Seven huddling against her legs while B’Elanna stared pop-eyed at the other end of the boat. Unobtrusively, the captain began to reach her hand across her front, going for her phaser, and saw the chief engineer mimic her motion. Instantly the huge head darted down, staring at them from only a few feet away, and they both froze, barely daring to breathe. Janeway heard Seven make a little sound in the back of her throat, though she suspected the Borg was unaware that she had done so.

The creature examined them closely, tilting its head from side to side as it regarded them, first with one emerald orb, then shifting to the other. It blew out its breath in a rush, blasting them with a wave of warm air that smelled of fish and sulphur. Janeway gulped and attempted to inch her fingers to her weapon once more, wishing she carried it on her right hip, rather than the traditional cross-draw position that Starfleet officers tended to use. The nearest eye immediately centered on her, the pupil an ebony slash against the brilliant green. The huge jaw dropped open, revealing row upon row of white, gleaming teeth and a serpentine, forked tongue slithered in the cavernous mouth like an independent living thing.

“Excuse me, but that wouldn’t happen to be an energy beam weapon you’re attempting to pull, would it?” the creature remarked, raking her with an appraising look. “Or are you just happy to see me?”

Janeway felt all the blood drain from her head as her brain started running about in circles, gibbering wildly. The voice was low and rumbling with … and she could scarcely fathom this … a distinctly Scottish accent. With a huge effort, one she thought she would never be capable of generating again, she firmly brought her mind to heel and looked at the creature with what she hoped was a properly dignified, diplomatic expression. Though she had a sneaking suspicion she looked more like Seven and B’Elanna whom, she saw out of the corner of her eye, were displaying twin masks of utter discombobulation.

“I am Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation starship Voyager,” she said, hoping it … he? … knew what a starship was … and that it didn’t hear the distinct quaver in her voice.

“Are ye now?” it said, moving its nose closer, sniffing avidly at her. “You’re definitely not a L’Borna, to be sure.”

The fine whiskers that surrounded his muzzle tickled Janeway as they moved over her. “No, I’m not,” she admitted carefully. “I am a Human from a planet called Earth in the Alpha Quadrant.”

The head suddenly drew back, the abrupt motion sending a surge of water which rocked the boat. Janeway was profoundly glad she was already sitting down, or she would have ended up on her ass … or over the side.

“Earth?” The voice took on a thundering tone, reverberating in their ears. “Ah, yes, I know of Earth. That miserable piece of dirt upon which the sniveling little inhabitants hounded and harassed me until I finally had to leave. So you’ve tracked me down here, have you?”

Janeway felt her eyebrows do their best to crawl off her head. “You know of Earth?” she said. “I’m afraid you have the advantage on me.”

The head was suddenly level with her again, eyes narrowed as it regarded her. “Yes,” he hissed, and before she could react, the tongue darted out and slapped at her tunic, leaving behind a trail of slimy wetness, before disappearing back into the gaping jaws. “I believe I do … which is a nice change. Have you come to take me back to the Loch? Surely you can gather your tourists by some method other than by parading me around. “

Janeway swallowed, trying hard to follow this line of discussion. “I assure you, we intend you no harm,” she said imploringly. “We’re explorers, lost in the Delta Quadrant. We were attempting to make our way home when we stopped to aid the L’Borna in destroying an asteroid which was on a collision course with this world.”

“The L’Borna know you’re here then,” he noted. “You didn’t just land on a whim.”

“No,” Janeway said. “There was an uprising, a social disturbance which our regulations forbid us to interfere in so we attempted to hide from them. Unfortunately, I’ve just been informed that there are two separate groups on their way here now. They must have tracked us somehow.”

A blast of air peppered her liberally with assorted fish scales, no doubt from his last meal. “This is terrible,” he roared. “For centuries, I have evaded their notice, living peacefully in my lake. Now you’re telling me that, not only have you disturbed my rest, agitated my food and hit me in the head with a fish, you have led the inhabitants of this planet directly to my hiding place?”

“It was completely unintentional,” Janeway said sincerely. “I’m very sorry.”

“You’re responsible for this,” he roared.

“Yes,” Janeway said. “I take full responsibility.”

“No,” Seven spoke up for the first time. “I am the one who struck you in the head with the fish. I am responsible for that.”

“I’m the one who chose this area to hide from the L’Borna,” B’Elanna said, giving the creature the evil eye. “So if you want to whine about it, blame the fates. We all just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Deal with it.”

The creature looked at the other two, sniffing. “You two aren’t Human,” he said. “The skinny one smells of machines, and the hard little one smells of something different altogether. Why do you protect the Human?”

“She is our captain,” Seven said. “I do not know why you are angry at Humans, but after centuries of being in the Delta Quadrant, your complaints seem irrelevant.”

“Seven,” Janeway muttered warningly.

The creature’s mouth gaped and from deep inside, came a thundering noise. It took a few moments before they were able to identify it.

Laughter.

“You are feisty, aren’t you, little machine girl,” he said. “I like you … and you fed me a tidbit. So, tell me, what am I supposed to do now? I can’t eat you. I never liked the taste of Humanoids. You taste too much like pork. High in cholesterol and gamey besides.”

“I’m sure if you submerge, they’ll never know you exist,” Janeway interrupted carefully, forestalling Seven’s reply. She could clearly see that the younger woman was intrigued by the supposed ‘taste’ of Humans, and was about to argue it. “It is us they are pursuing, after all. We’ll leave, and I give you my word that we will not reveal your presence here.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“Because,” Seven said with absolute conviction, “Captain Janeway always fulfills her promises.”

He regarded the Borg for a few moments, then with a sigh, he dropped his head below the surface and disappeared, only a ripple showing he had ever existed. Janeway felt her head pound. That had to be one of the oddest experiences of her life, and now that he was gone, she found she had a million questions to ask it. Where exactly on Earth did it come from? How did it get here, 60,000 light-years away? What kind of creature was it? What method of transportation did it use? How long had it been alive?

“You know what?” B’Elanna said in the stillness that followed. “I turned off the tricorder after scanning Seven’s fish, and forgot to activate it again. No one’s going to believe what we just saw.”

“Oh god,” Janeway said, feeling overwhelmed. “Let’s get back to shore.”

From over the mountains, she could hear the hum of approaching aircars, and through the breaks in the jagged peaks, she saw the first, silvery shapes of vehicles racing towards them from two separate directions. As they paddled frantically for the campsite, they saw that each group had different colored paint striping their machines. One, the royal red, the other, the fanatic yellow … and that they were firing at each other with great enthusiasm.

Seven helped B’Elanna haul the boat on to the shore, pulling it up to the grassy bank as Janeway sprinted for the Mississippi. The Borg noted that the campsite had been neatly removed, with little to indicate anyone had been there beyond a few marks in the turf. Even the fire pit had been covered and scuffed over. Working in tandem, Seven and B’Elanna picked up the boat, and hustled for the runabout, trying to reach it before the L’Borna ships came within scanning range, their location still protected somewhat by the towering peaks. At the ramp, they threw the boat aboard, then plunged in behind it, the ramp retracting at their heels as the door slid down to seal the vessel. Tom Paris, manning the helm, immediately lifted off, the deck canting under the woman’s feet, and they had to grab at the two nearest empty seats to keep from tumbling to the back of the cabin.

Seven discovered she had chosen the science station, and immediately activated the console, scanning the oncoming vessels. She was aware of B’Elanna at the port side engineering station, monitoring the runabout’s systems, while Sek and Neelix sat in the passenger seats, and tried to stay out of the way. Janeway had taken the co-pilot’s seat and was attempting to hail the L’Borna.

Unfortunately, the two sides were still in conflict, and both were blocking sub-space as well as the various atmospheric frequencies with their jamming techniques. They continued to fire on each other, and now, had apparently targeted the Mississippi as well. The little ship rocked slightly as it was struck by a stray shot. Janeway allowed a little impatience to color her motion as she deactivated the comm signal.

“Seven, what’s the status of the ion storm?” she snapped.

Seven touched her controls, getting a reading on the space lying beyond the atmosphere they were dancing through. “The storm is still present,” she reported crisply. “It has lessened in intensity, but is still too strong to attempt to leave the system.”

The runabout suddenly rocked again as either the L’Bree or maybe it was the government forces, began to direct the full power of their weapons on its aft shields. The L’Borna weapons could not generate enough force to penetrate the shields, but the repeated impacts tended to make the ship shudder, and it made for some bumpy flying.

“Captain, we can keep this up all day,” Lt. Paris said calmly. “The question is, do you want us to?”

“Can we outrun them?”

“Not in the atmosphere,” he admitted. “Those vessels are designed for it. The Mississippi is primarily a space vessel, and not aerodynamic at all.”

“Can you shake off their pursuit?”

“I can try,” he advised. “But you should strap in.”

“Do it,” the captain ordered.

The rest all utilized the restraints that were on their chairs, strapping themselves down. The sandy-haired pilot glanced back to see that they were all locked in, then proceeded to throw the ship into a series of wild maneuvers designed to escape the pursuing forces.

Or cause them to be violently ill, Seven noted, swallowing hard.

The ship was executing stunts she did not feel were possible for such a vessel, and the fact that they were still in the atmosphere made things even worse. Gravity came and went with a randomness that sent her stomach rolling and she felt nausea rise sharp within her. She could see the faces of her fellow crewmembers from the corner of her eyes, and knew they were also experiencing affects from the careening ride. She glanced forward at Kathryn, and noted the distinctly greenish tinge to her porcelain features. Perversely, it made her feel a little better to know she was not alone.

“This … isn’t … working.” The captain said between clenched teeth. “We … need … another … plan.”

Tom immediately flattened out the flight ,and it was with distinct relief that Seven took a deep breath, then another.

“What if we don’t leave the system?” B’Elanna offered suddenly.

Janeway looked back, raising an eyebrow. “Explain,” she ordered.

“What if we just make a short jaunt to the moon?” B’Elanna said. “Hole up there. Those ships aren’t designed for space travel, they’re atmospheric only. It’s unlikely they have any space ships in orbit to track us. They’d have all been brought into port.”

“We should be able to cover such a limited distance with no affect to the systems,” Seven concurred, going over the projection on her board. “The L’Borna satellite has a limited atmosphere. We will be unable to breathe it, but it is enough to protect the systems from being affected once we’re there.”

“Who knows how long the storm will last,” Paris objected. “No offense, but being stuck in a small runabout with five other people for days on end is not my idea of fun.”

“However, it is survivable,” Janeway noted. “We will no longer be interfering in this planet’s social development. Somehow, we’ve become some sort of prize for both sides and it’s time to remove us from the playing field.” She nodded at Tom. “Lay in the fastest course to the moon. Seven, scan for a crater, the deeper the better, which will give us the most protection with the thin atmosphere. B’Elanna, maintain a constant monitor on our systems. Our survival counts on their proper working order.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Understood.”

“Aye, Captain.”

Seven set to work, scanning the moon intently. She felt the deck angle upward beneath her, and a quick glance through the front viewports revealed the last wisps of blue giving way to the deep blackness of space … a darkness streaked with vivid, glowing strands of ionized energy from the storm awaiting them. The Borg set her teeth, and refocused on the board, determined to provide Kathryn with what she had requested as quickly as possible.

“Three possibilities, Captain,” she said. She fed the data to the fore console, along with the coordinates. The ship swayed and bumped as it was buffeted by the energy fluctuations surrounding them, and Seven knew that B’Elanna was keeping a close eye on the diagnostics, drawing power from some of the systems to bolster the shields when necessary.

The captain looked over Seven’s selection, and chose one. “Here,” she said, showing Paris their destination.

“Got it.”

Before long, they had entered the thin atmosphere of the moon, and were racing over the jagged surface, seeking the crater which would shelter them from the worst of the storm’s effects. They plunged into a deep hole which seemed to descend forever, a violent tear in the lunar surface, shadowed dark and unappealing. The ship descended for long minutes, their exterior lights the only thing showing the way until they reached the bottom, and with a delicate precision, Paris activated the landing gear and set the Mississippi down.

“We have arrived,” he stated. He glanced at Janeway who patted his shoulder approvingly.

“Well done,” she said. She glanced back at the rest of the crew. “All right, I don’t know how long we’ll be here, but we’ll maintain standard operating procedure. An around the clock duty roster will be applied, and while we’re here, we might as well do scientific readings on this moon’s interior, as well as a constant sweep on the storm. The second it lets up, we’re heading after Voyager.”

“So much for the celebration in our honor,” Neelix noted dryly.

“A shame,” Sek said, unhooking her harness. “I would have liked to have studied the L’Borna longer. Now we’ll never know what really caused the uprising, how it will turn out, or what effect it will have in the long term development of their society.”

“Unfortunately, that’s the price we pay here in the Delta Quadrant,” the captain told her sympathetically. “We’ll probably never know what happens with most of the beings and civilizations we encounter. The L’Borna will just have to work out their own destiny … whatever that includes.”

“What of Nessie?” Seven remarked. Everyone looked at her and she motioned to her board. “I just ran a description on the creature we encountered on the surface,” she said. “The only correlation of Earth creatures to the description I provided was something called the Loch Ness Monster who supposedly inhabited a glacial lake in an area known as Scotland in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. The local inhabitants nicknamed it ‘Nessie’.”

“What are you talking about?” Paris asked, staring at her blankly.

B’Elanna groaned. “I knew no one would believe us,” she muttered.

The captain held up her hand. “Perhaps we’ll have the opportunity to investigate it further in the future,” she promised. “In the meantime, however, we need to secure from quarters … and for god’s sakes, get rid of that raft, it smells like fish.”

Paris reached over and flicked a scale off Janeway’s tunic, sniffing audibly. “With all due respect, Captain,” he said, grinning. “I don’t think it’s the raft.”

B’Elanna Torres stepped off the runabout, and into the startled embrace of Chakotay, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him passionately. Apparently the chief engineer was making a public statement, Janeway thought wearily as she strode down the ramp onto the deck of Voyager’s hangar. God only knew what repercussions that would bring, but she wasn’t going to think about them now.

It had been a long week trapped on that moon, and an even longer few days of chasing after the starship. She had never felt so glad to return to Voyager before, completely sick of the interior of the Mississippi, and convinced that she’d never volunteer to head up another away mission. Let her first officer do all the grunt work she decided with exhaustion. She’d be more than glad to lounge on the bridge from now on, and she promised herself she’d never complain of feeling crowded on board her vessel ever again.

“Captain,” Chakotay said, untangling himself from the Klingon. “Glad to have you back.” Janeway smiled wearily as she saw the blush had darkened his face to a deep, rusty brown.

“Glad to be back, Commander,” she said. “Status?”

“All systems normal,” he responded. “We’ve resumed our course for the Alpha Quadrant.”

“Excellent,” she said. “I’m heading to my quarters where I shall be in my bathtub for the foreseeable future.”

“Understood,” he said with a grin.

She headed for the hangar doors, feeling the familiar presence of Seven fall into step with her. Casually, almost as an afterthought, she reached out and linked her hand with that of the tall, cool blonde, feeling the warm fingers entwine with hers. She thanked all the powers that be that Seven had been with her on that trip. Her partner had been the one thing which had made it bearable, especially towards the end of the first week at the bottom of the crater, when the runabout walls started pressing in, and the bickering between Tom and B’Elanna threatened to resume. If Seven hadn’t managed to keep the engineer occupied with discrete little system failures, Janeway was sure that she would have had to toss one or both of the ex-lovers out the runabout’s airlock. For that, she would be forever grateful to the Borg.

She squeezed the young woman’s hand and glanced at her from beneath lowered lashes. “Can I interest you in a bath?” she offered.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Seven said quietly.

That disturbed Janeway, unable to remember her partner ever refusing such an offer before. However, Seven had been uncharacteristically subdued for the past couple of days, and it was possible that she was simply feeling the need for space after so long in such crowded conditions. Still, as a Borg, it was unlikely she had been more affected by it than the captain. When they walked into their quarters and sealed the door, Janeway immediately began undoing her tunic, eyeing her partner closely.

“Seven, is something wrong?” she asked.

Seven shook her head slightly. “No,” she said as she headed into the bathroom. “I will not take long. I will make dinner while you are bathing.”

“All right,” Janeway said, frowning as the younger woman disappeared into the ensuite.

She dropped her tunic on the sofa, glad to be home once more, realizing with a certain surprise that was exactly how she was viewing her quarters. For the first time since leaving the large, white house in Indiana where she had grown up, she had finally made herself a home, and if it wasn’t the Alpha Quadrant, then it was still where she belonged, simply because of the woman in the ensuite. She couldn’t deny that feeling anymore. Sitting down on the chair in the living area, she kicked off her boots, wriggling her toes with a quiet enjoyment as she looked around the cabin, at all the personal items that the couple had been acquiring over the past few months, the smells and sounds that surrounded her, familiar, comfortable.

Yet, the captain believed something was bothering her partner, and decided that if she just asked the right questions … in just the right manner … Seven would tell her. The Borg was not very good at keeping things secret, Janeway decided, looking up as Seven entered the room, catching her breath as she saw the short, black robe the woman had donned. It was a personal favorite of both of them, and she felt desire stir within her, chasing away her exhaustion.

Later, she told herself sternly. Bath first, then dinner. Afterward … well, they would get to it at its proper time.

“I am finished in the ensuite,” Seven informed her, her hair still damp from it’s towel drying, spilling wild and tangled over her shoulders. “I have started your bath.”

“Thank you, love,” Janeway said. She peeled herself off the couch, but did not go toward the bathroom immediately. Instead, she drifted over behind the taller woman who had gone to the replicator and was materializing various ingredients. Gently the captain placed her hands on the slim waist, and rested her chin on the narrow shoulder, having to stand on tiptoe to do so. “What’s for dinner?”

“I think a casserole,” Seven replied coolly. “Beef flavored, with corn and potatoes.”

Janeway smiled. “My favorite,” she said.

“I know,” Seven responded.

Janeway stared at the profile turned slightly away from her and frowned again. Seven’s eyes were distant, troubled, but Kathryn knew in her gut that if she pressed right this moment, the younger woman would just draw farther away. Give her time, Kathryn told herself. Let her settle in a little more, get more of a sense of home reestablished.

“I won’t be long,” she said quietly, and kissed Seven on the shoulder through the silken robe.

She went into the bathroom, stripping off the rest of her uniform with relief. She could swear that there was still the odor of fish about it, though of course, that was impossible. She had replicated it about twenty times since the creature known as Nessie had exhaled all over her, and though she had been picking the scales out of her hair two days after the fact, she knew she didn’t smell of that … just of spending too much time in a runabout.

She settled into the tub with a sigh of bliss, letting the hot water soothe her muscles, easing her mind of its worries. Before Seven, this had been the only thing in her life that could lighten the burden of command somewhat, and she loved her bathtub with a pure and honest intensity. She noted that Seven had put the captain’s favorite oils in to scent the water, making it flow silky smooth over her skin, and she leaned her head back, closing her eyes happily.

More time passed than she realized, and she started as Seven came into the bathroom, bearing a tray of food.

“I’m sorry, Annika,” she exclaimed, sitting up as Seven positioned her dinner next to her, the specially designed tray clamping onto the edge of the tub. “I lost track of time.”

Seven smiled briefly, just a touch to the corners of her mouth. “I realized you would,” she said indulgently. “You always do when you’re taking a bath.”

Janeway realized suddenly that whatever it was that was bothering Seven, it wasn’t her and she gave a silent sigh of relief. She glanced at the tray and decided that Seven had brought her own dinner in as well, apparently planning to eat it with her while crouching on the floor beside the tub which wouldn’t do at all. With a deliberate intent, Janeway assumed her most appealing expression … her ‘puppy dog’ look as she called it. It was rarely used and as a result, was fairly potent stuff. “Join me, darling,” she said persuasively. “I know you’ve already showered, but come in the tub with me. Please?”

Seven hesitated, took one look at those blue eyes that Janeway went so far as to bat at her, and was lost. “Very well,” she allowed grudgingly. She slipped out of her robe, and gingerly eased herself into the tub opposite Janeway.

Janeway, who had already tackled her food, regarded her measuringly. Yes, Seven did seem a trifle more relaxed now, less disturbed. The captain knew that was a result of preparing food, which for some reason, Seven found enjoyable, and the soothing properties of the warm water in which she was immersed. Seven’s legs entangled in hers as the Borg moved closer to the other side of the tray, and began to eat.

They didn’t speak as they consumed their meal, content to simply be in each other’s company as they enjoyed the first food in weeks that hadn’t come from Starfleet rations or Neelix’s imagination. Finally replete, Janeway leaned back in the tub, lounging in the hot water which maintained its temperature by internal heaters, and regarded Seven with stuffed benevolence.

“As always, darling,” she said. “That was incredible. My compliments to the chef.”

Seven nodded distantly, and Janeway decided enough was enough. She carefully moved the tray out of the way and straddled Seven, wrapping her arms around the startled young woman’s neck.

“Talk to me darling,” she said, dipping her head to look into the pale blue orbs. “Tell me what’s bothering you, please. I want to help.”

Seven lowered her eyes. “I do not know if you can,” she said softly.

“Let me try?” Janeway urged gently. For some reason, this was not something where she could be commanding with her questions though she didn’t know how she knew that. This was something she had to tease out of Seven, carefully, gently, lover to lover. Definitely not captain to crewmember. She kissed Seven on the temple, tenderly pressing her lips to the pulse point there. “I would really like to try,” she murmured.

Seven raised her face a little, and Janeway took the opportunity to kiss her again, sweetly on the mouth, persuasively. “Maybe if we talked,” the Borg allowed, a little breathlessly when her lips were finally released.

“I want you to talk to me, darling,” Janeway replied softly, running her hands gently over Seven’s shoulders, down her arms.

“Then we should get out of the tub,” Seven noted dryly. “I think it would be easy to become … distracted here.”

Janeway, who discovered she had been idly tracing Seven’s breasts with her fingertips, agreed. There was just something about being with her lover in this scented water that made it easy for her to lose track of what she was doing. “All right, sweetheart,” she said with an abashed grin. “Where?”

“I am tired,” Seven admitted. “Can we go to bed? Can we talk there?”

“Of course,” Janeway acceded. She kissed her again and drew away.

They got out of the tub and dried each other off with large, fluffy bath sheets, quickly without the normal teasing and caresses. Janeway felt her concern deepen as Seven left without noticing the black robe which had been left in a heap on the floor. As the captain scooped it up, and brought it into the bedroom with them, laying it on the lounger, she hoped Seven wasn’t picking up all of B’Elanna’s bad habits. Crawling into bed, Janeway stretched out on her back, bringing down the lights to a dim illumination. Seven waited until the captain was settled before snuggling close to her, resting her head on her shoulder, placing her left hand carefully on Janeway’s chest. Her long leg draped lightly across the captain’s thighs, and Janeway sighed as she wrapped her left arm around the slender torso, happy to be in her own comfortable bed once more.

She entwined her fingers with Seven’s, feeling the careful grip of the Borg implant closing over her right hand, and she rested her cheek on the blonde hair, smiling gently. For several moments, they lay together in the darkness, Janeway feeling the warmth of the body next to her penetrate her own to the very bones. For a moment, she thought Seven might have fallen asleep, but the breathing was too uneven for that.

“Tell me, darling,” she requested quietly.

“It is B’Elanna,” Seven said softly. “I deceived her.”

Janeway blinked. “When?”

“When we were on the runabout, and I created the series of system failures,” Seven said.

“That was at my request,” Janeway said carefully. “You cannot take responsibility for that.”

Seven shook her head. “I must,” she said. She hesitated, then added in an uncertain tone. “You may have noticed, I do not always follow your orders.”

“Oh, I’ve noticed,” Janeway said dryly, a wry grin touching her lips.

“I choose which of your commands I will follow,” Seven elaborated. “I am not Starfleet, nor do I necessarily believe in the concept of a chain of command. I do not obey you out of any conditioned sense of duty or training. I obey you because I wish to, and that means I am always responsible for my own actions.”

“All right,” Janeway said after a moment’s contemplation of that. It wasn’t pleasant to hear, but it was accurate … more accurate than she had allowed herself to recognize before this. “I don’t know that I’m comfortable with that, but I allow it’s what you believe. It was your decision to follow my instructions.”

“Yes,” Seven said. “However, after thinking about it, I feel I chose incorrectly. It was wrong to deceive B’Elanna that way. She is my friend.”

“Yes she is,” Janeway said. “However, if you hadn’t caused those system failures, what do suppose would have happened? What was already happening?”

“She and Lt. Paris were resuming their antagonism,” Seven answered readily. “Which would have been annoying, but that is no reason to betray her.”

“I think ‘betray’ is too strong a term, Annika,” Janeway said slowly. “You shouldn’t look at this as a betrayal. Perhaps if you realized why I made the request, you would feel easier about it.”

“I know why you made the request,” Seven noted. “It is because you did not wish to listen to them argue. I did not either, which is why I did it, but that does not make it right.”

Janeway shook her head. “No, that’s only part of it,” she said patiently. “Seven, we were six people, including a hologram unfamiliar with social skills, two lovers and two ex-lovers, trapped in a very small area for an unknown length of time. It is very easy for tempers to become frayed in such a situation, sometimes seriously. It was important for all of us to maintain our heads, and if that meant creating a series of false readings to occupy my chief engineer, then that’s what had to be done. In fact, I would have done it myself, but I thought your Borg ingenuity would be a little more untraceable. However, I wouldn’t have asked you to do it if I knew it was going to bother you later. I believed it was the best decision for all of us on that shuttle.”

“That is not the point. It was wrong,” Seven insisted in a low voice. “You taught me that it is harmful to deceive the people I care about. You told me how much it hurt you when I kept the fact that I needed my implant removed from you, even though I thought I was doing what was best for you. So why was it right to deceive B’Elanna here?”

Janeway took a long, slow breath. Seven wasn’t trying to be argumentative, she was honestly trying to understand the moral implications of this situation. Granted, it seemed like a minor thing to be upset about, but how could Seven understand the different degrees of compromises Humanity required to co-exist? The answer was that she couldn’t, at least not yet. At the moment, she was just confused, and frankly, Janeway couldn’t blame her.

“It was not necessarily ‘right’, Seven,” Janeway said quietly. “Not all decisions are a matter of right or wrong. Some are a matter of choosing what is less wrong.”

There was a pause as Seven contemplated that. “I do not understand,” she said with a frustrated little sigh. “You were angry when I decided it was best to deceive you. B’Elanna would be angry as well. Why is your anger justified and hers not?”

“Her anger would be justified,” Janeway responded, stroking her hair soothingly. “I knew that possibility existed when I made the decision, but that’s part of taking responsibility, Seven. I knew B’Elanna could discover the deception, and would be angry, but I was prepared to deal with it in order to maintain the peace in the runabout for as long as possible. It was a consequence I was willing to take, and I would not have let her be angry at you for following my order.”

Seven shifted uncomfortably in the dark. “Who are you to decide this?” she asked. It was not an accusation, it was a question, honestly posed.

“I’m the commander,” Janeway said, and she tightened her embrace, wanting Seven to listen closely to what she was about to say, needing her to understand. “Regardless of my rank. That’s what being in command is about. Making decisions not only for myself, but for those I’m in charge of. It is a power, yes, but more importantly, it is a great responsibility. I know that I won’t always make the right decision, Annika. I won’t even always make the one that’s less wrong, but I will always accept the responsibility for making that decision, I will always accept the consequences of making it. When you find yourself in command, you also must accept it.”

“Why would I want to be in command?”

Janeway smiled. “It’s not always a matter of wanting to,” she said dryly. “Sometimes, it’s just something you have to do, because no one else can or will. I accepted it freely. I trained and strived for it, just as others in Starfleet have, but even when you haven’t, you will still find yourself in a position where you have to make decisions. In fact, you already have. When I placed you in command of creating the Omega chamber. When you took us through the nebula all by yourself. You wanted those responsibilities, didn’t you?”

Seven was silent for a moment. “Yes,” she said slowly. “I did, but that was because I wanted to please you.”

“Why did you think that would please me?” Janeway asked. “In fact, both times, I tried to dissuade you. Why was it so important that you convince me that you could handle such responsibility?”

Another pause as Seven thought hard. “Because it meant that you trusted me,” she said.

“That’s also what command is all about,” the captain said. “I command through trust. It is possible to rule through fear, but not effectively, or for very long, especially in the situation we’re in. My crew has to trust that I will do what I believe is best for them, and even when I make mistakes, that I will take responsibility for that as well. In the nebula, I put my trust in you, Seven. I believed you would make the right decisions for us. It was a great responsibility. How did you feel when it was over?”

“It … I felt good,” Seven noted with some surprise. “It made me feel … stronger, more confident. To know you trusted me, to know that I could make the correct decisions in a difficult situation, made me feel … successful.”

“Yes, and that’s how I feel too,” Janeway admitted. “There is something inside me that likes the challenge of it. It’s very much a part of me, of who I am and I didn’t realize how much it was until I was lost here in the Delta Quadrant.” She cuddled Seven close to her, kissing her gently on the forehead. “I will admit, though I wouldn’t let anyone else know this, it means more that you follow my commands because you want to, not because you feel you have to. I had to earn your loyalty, darling, and that makes it far more precious to me.”

Seven nodded. “I think I understand,” she said. “However, I still want to tell B’Elanna what I did, and apologize for it.”

The captain nodded. “Do you understand why I can’t?” Janeway asked her quietly.

“I believe so,” Seven allowed. “You can never regret decisions, you can only accept the consequences of them.”

Janeway smiled. “That’s very good,” she complimented. “That’s exactly right.”

“Are some are more difficult than others?”

The captain sobered. “Yes,” she said softly. Faces and names crossed her mind. Crewmembers killed while under her command, people she had lost. People she had failed.

“So you would never regret severing me from the Collective?”

Janeway hesitated, surprised, then laughed as she recognized the hint of teasing in the tone, of what the original question had really meant.

“No darling,” she said. “I just have to accept those consequences.” She cupped Seven’s cheek in her palm, and raised her face to hers, finding the full-lipped mouth and kissing her gently.

“For the rest of my life if I’m very, very fortunate,” she added in a gentle murmur.

Epilogue

B’Elanna slammed the spanner down on top of the console as Seven winced at the crash it made. She didn’t think the Klingon was taking this at all well.

“You mean to tell me that I’ve been driving myself crazy running diagnostics on the runabout trying to figure what was causing those system failures, and all along it was you!” she bellowed at the top of her lungs.

“I am sorry,” Seven apologized profusely. “It was not my intention to cause you harm. I just wanted to … divert you from the situation.”

“This was the captain’s idea, wasn’t it?” the engineer snarled. “The conniving bitch.”

Seven blinked, hesitating as she considered what Kathryn had said. Still, this could not go unopposed. “I obeyed the request,” Seven said firmly. “I also agreed that it would keep you and Tom from resuming your bickering. Please do not refer to Kathryn in those terms. Your anger may be justified, but it does not excuse demeaning the captain, or my partner.”

“Yeah, and what the hell are you going to do about it?” B’Elanna returned hotly.

“Grab you by the neck and hold you upside down over the rail until you apologize,” Seven responded coolly. “Or until you are unconscious, whichever comes first.”

B’Elanna opened her mouth to respond, hesitated as she gauged the sincerity in the tall blonde’s eyes, and growled in frustration. Seven was one of the few people on the ship who could actually carry out such a threat, and from the Borg, it was not a bluff, it was a promise. Not that B’Elanna was afraid of a fair fight, but the idea that Seven might actually dangle her from the upper level of engineering in front of the whole staff was so potentially humiliating, she didn’t want to risk it.

“All right,” she muttered. “Though it wasn’t really an insult, Seven. Not from me.”

“Still, not everyone knows you as I do,” Seven said, aware of the rest of the engineering crew hovering just within earshot on the main level below where they stood on the catwalk bordering the warpcore. “While the captain might forgive it were she here, I cannot.”

“Okay, I take it back,” B’Elanna said gruffly. She looked at Seven with dark eyes from beneath her proud ridge. “But dammit Seven, we’re supposed to be friends.”

“We are,” Seven told her sincerely. “That is why I told you of this. It was not my intention to make you appear incompetent.” She paused. “In truth, I was surprised you were able to repair most of them so quickly. It was difficult to keep coming up with new ways to divert your attention.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me to lay off Paris?”

Seven blinked. “Would that have been effective?” she asked in astonishment.

B’Elanna glowered at her, then was finally forced to smile. “No,” she said.

“B’Elanna, I am truly sorry I followed the captain’s order,” Seven said humbly.

B’Elanna shook her head. “You have to obey the captain,” she said.

Seven was about to point out that in fact, no she didn’t, but she sensed it would initiate a much longer and more frustrating discussion than the one they were already involved in. Instead, she just nodded gravely.

“Do you forgive me?” she asked.

B’Elanna looked disgusted but since she wasn’t looking at her directly, Seven suspected it was for the benefit of the onlookers, not her. “All right,” the engineer grumbled. “But next time, divert Paris, why don’t you.”

“I promise,” Seven said. She continued to look at B’Elanna. “Are we still friends?”

B’Elanna actually blushed, which Seven found fascinating.

“Yeah,” she said shortly and glared down at her staff who immediately occupied themselves with their work.

“Can I hug you?” Seven asked, pushing for all she was worth now.

B’Elanna’s head came up and she stared at the Borg who managed to keep a sincere expression on her face. “What?”

“I understand that when Humans have a disagreement, one usually offers a physical display to indicate the conflict is at an end,” Seven said blandly.

“How about if I shake your hand?” B’Elanna said, frowning.

“If that is the acceptable alternative,” Seven responded and held out her hand.

When B’Elanna took it, however, Seven immediately wrapped her up in a bear hug, squeezing tightly. The Klingon was very aware of her engineering crew observing this with extreme amusement.

“Seven,” B’Elanna whispered. “Let me go.”

“Certainly,” Seven said, and kissed her soundly on the cheek before releasing her.

Stunned, B’Elanna stared at her, flushing deeply, then roared. “You are a dead woman!”

Seven was forced to leap over the rail as the Klingon lunged at her, and without a backward glance, she bolted out of engineering, running for her life as B’Elanna plunged down the ladder and howled after her. The crew watched the two disappear out the door, and went back to their tasks, shaking their heads in tolerant amusement.

Things were back to normal on Voyager.

The End

Back to Season One

On to Just Between

A Rock & A Hard Place

Table of Contents

Epilogue