This is the 8th in the Just Between series. It was written and posted around the first of October, 1998, around the beginning of the fifth season of ST:V.

This was originally titled Just Between Here & There. I think this is a more appropriate title.

Just Between Stars

G. L. Dartt

Entering the hangar where the next stage of a special clandestine project was underway, Seven’s high heels clicked on the polished deck as she crossed the cavernous bay, and headed purposely for the obscure corner concealed by shelving units and cargo. Formerly the Tertiary Adjunct to the Unimatrix 01 in the Borg Collective and now the astrometrics officer for the Federation starship Voyager, the gray metallic implant framing Seven of Nine’s left eye glinted in the reduced lighting and on her right cheek, a starburst gave stark reminder of her time as a drone.

While recently assimilated by the Collective a second time, Seven had acquired the knowledge of Species 116, which included propulsion technology that could theoretically return Voyager to the Alpha Quadrant in a matter of mere months rather than the sixty years traditional warp power would require. However, there was still a little uncertainty as to whether this technology could be successfully integrated with that of Starfleet, so the ship’s captain had decided that the project would remain quiet, limited to only a few members of the crew. The ship’s chief engineer, Lt. B’Elanna Torres and Lt. Harry Kim, the operations officer, were tapped to help Seven work on the project. The first officer, Chakotay, also knew what was going on, but he did not have the expertise needed to assist in the actual implementation. Instead, he arranged duty schedules so it would not be noticed that the ship’s most brilliant minds tended to disappear into the hangar deck for unspecified periods of time throughout their duty shifts.

Seven identified Lt. Kim standing by an open panel which led into the plasma relay manifold. The handsome young man was holding a tool kit, assisting another crewmember whose lower half protruded from the interior compartment. All Seven could see was the black clad buttocks and legs as their owner worked diligently within. A sudden stab of wicked playfulness shot through the young woman, and as she passed by the two crewmembers, she reached out and gave the wriggling swells a firm tweak before moving on around to the front of the shuttle. She heard the unmistakable thud of a head impacting solidly with the top of the compartment and a muffled, feminine oath that was uttered deep within the interior of the shuttle’s engines. There was an immediate protest from Lt. Kim which made her smile faintly with amusement.

“Uh, no, waitaminute … I swear … that wasn’t me…”

Her smile faded as she turned the corner and found B’Elanna Torres working on the other side of the shuttle.

“I do not understand,” she said to the raven-haired female who regarded her quizzically. “If you are here, who was working on the plasma relay manifold?”

“Why?” B’Elanna responded, raising an eyebrow. She tilted her head and half grinned. “What did you do, Seven?”

“Something entirely inappropriate,” a distinctive, throaty voice noted behind her.

Seven felt her heart take an immediate plunge to her toes. Taking a deep breath, she turned to face a small, compact woman with fiery auburn hair and absolutely the most marvelous blue-grey eyes that she had ever seen. Captain Kathryn Janeway radiated authority the way a warp core radiated power, and the burden of making sure her ship and crew returned home one day fell squarely upon her rather slender shoulders. Lost for five years in the Delta Quadrant without the safety net of Starfleet Command, she led by sheer personality, one of immense strength and compassion, and only Seven was allowed to be intimate with the affectionate, vulnerable and loving woman within. Though little of Seven’s lover showed through at the moment. Janeway had her arms crossed over her chest, and her expression, one of firm disapproval, gave a foreboding cast to her elegant, high boned features.

“I thought you were B’Elanna,” Seven protested weakly.

“Are you in the habit of pinching the chief engineer on the buttocks?” Janeway said acidly.

Beside Seven, B’Elanna hooted laughter and looked at the young Borg with bright eyes.

“You pinched her ass?” she snickered, her wide smile revealing sharp-edged teeth. “Wow, Seven, I’m impressed.”

“I am not,” the captain interrupted. She frowned as she regarded Seven, and the young woman promptly lowered her head in shame. “Seven, we’ve discussed improper behavior while on duty before.”

“I know.” Seven studied the deck intently. “I am sorry, Captain. I was merely ‘having fun’ with B’Elanna. I did not realize it was you.”

She snuck a peek from under her lowered lashes, gauging how much more repentant she should look. She wondered if she should cry, knowing that Kathryn had absolutely no resistance to that, then decided it would be a bit much. Disregarding the fact that the situation did not really require it, she suspected it would embarrass the captain, and she truly did not want to do that. Besides, it seemed that the captain had softened quite satisfactorily with Seven’s just lowering her voice, and inserting a quaver of remorse into it.

“You know I understand the need for horseplay, Seven,” the captain said grudgingly. “However, you have to keep it to a minimum. Otherwise, valuable time is lost.”

Seven dared to raise her head. “I understand, Captain, ” she promised sincerely. “It will not happen again.”

Janeway eyed her narrowly for a few seconds, then nodded briskly. “Very well,” she said, apparently satisfied with the level of Seven’s contriteness. “In the meantime, I believe we all have work to do.” The captain eyed them both pointedly, then returned to her task, moving back around the shuttle.

“So why are you feeling so playful?” B’Elanna asked in a low voice as the pair began to modify the shuttle’s shield resonance frequency.

“I am very excited,” Seven said, matching the subdued tone. “I am planning to make today very special for Kathryn.”

B’Elanna snorted. “You mean besides pinching her on the butt?” B’Elanna eyed her curiously. “Why?”

“It is her birthday,” Seven explained.

B’Elanna looked surprised, pausing in her work to stare at her. “I didn’t know that,” she said. “So you remembered her birthday.” She shook her head as if remembering something and grinned faintly. “I suppose you have big plans for this evening?”

“I do,” Seven agreed, unable to keep her eyes from sparkling.

Seven had not celebrated any birthdays during her eighteen years in the Collective. A faint memory of her own at age six had been her only reference to the tradition. Her most recent one had occurred while she was on board Voyager, but it had become lost in the shuffle as one thing after another made the day pass with little note. However, Janeway, albeit a few months late, had given her partner a proper celebration, and it had re-introduced Seven to the whole concept of making the anniversary of one’s birth a special occasion. Ever since that day, the Borg had wanted to return the gesture for her partner, and with the day having finally arrived, Seven was anticipating the evening with great excitement. Especially since the captain had not indicated that she was aware that this day was different from any other. Seven supposed Janeway had lost track of the Earth system which did not easily lend itself to the Federation Stardates used on Starfleet vessels, though it was May 20th, forty-three Earth years to the day of Kathryn’s being born.

As she assisted B’Elanna, Seven mentally organized the menu for the celebratory dinner. A few months earlier, Seven had discovered the relaxing benefits and creativity of preparing food from raw ingredients, an unusual ability to acquire in a society of replicators and mass-produced rations. Seven had taken over most of the food preparation for the couple, utilizing recipes from the Alpha Quadrant that granted the captain a much-needed taste of home. Janeway was more than suitably grateful after five years of Talaxian fare for such a gift, and Seven offered it whenever she could. Today, however, required an extra special effort in Seven’s opinion.

“You want to let me in on those plans, Annika?” B’Elanna prodded. She leered gently. “What do you have in mind?”

Seven glanced at her, eyebrow arching as she observed the significant expression on her friend’s face. “It does not include toys,” she responded pointedly. “Or any of your other previous suggestions regarding our love life.”

B’Elanna winced a little at the reminder of a recent incident involving advice she had given Seven. “I said I was sorry,” she mumbled. “I didn’t know the captain would be so sensitive about it. In fact, I think she sort of over-reacted, but I will admit that I should have told you that it was a mutually consenting thing before you tied her spread-eagle to the bed and dangled that whip in her face. She probably thought you had gone insane.”

“I do not wish to discuss this,” Seven said darkly.

She still cringed at the memory of Kathryn’s ire when B’Elanna convinced Seven that fur lined hand cuffs, and certain other forms of restraining devices would be to the captain’s liking. One evening she had pounced on Janeway, restraining her to the bed over her loud protests, and it had taken a few moments before Seven realized that the objections were quite serious as opposed to the mock reluctance B’Elanna had told her the captain would probably react with. Seven could not remember ever seeing Janeway so furious, and the lecture she had received about the psychology of bondage, not to mention the need for displays of power, was seared into her brain with devastating intent.

It still affected her, and to this day, she still had not quite forgiven B’Elanna for it, even after dangling her upside down off the catwalk in main engineering, listening to all sorts of Klingon imprecations hurled her way before finally, B’Elanna had sincerely and formally apologized to her, though she had refused to apologize to the captain when Seven asked her to.

“So what do you have in mind precisely?” B’Elanna persisted.

Due to the secretive nature of the slipstream project, the Klingon had been forced to be exceptionally close-mouthed recently. A little bit of gossip within the confines of the members of the project team was probably just what she was looking for. It must be difficult for such an avid purveyor of ship’s business to have to keep continually silent, Seven allowed. For that reason, she relented, and decided to share some of her plans with the engineer.

“We will dine by candlelight,” Seven explained. “I intend to make one of her favorite dishes, and I was able to secure some of the wine she liked from the last system we were in. I will also attempt to recreate the caramel brownies she enjoys so much. The ones she received from her mother are all gone, but if I can replicate them successfully, I know she will be pleased. Then after our meal, I will give her the present I have been saving for her.”

B’Elanna favored her with a grin that was both snarky, and a trifle envious at the same time. “Now, I’m really impressed. So what did you get her?”

Seven eyed her uncertainly. “You will not tell her?” she asked. “If you do, it will not be a surprise.”

“I swear, Seven,” B’Elanna said, placing a hand on her chest. “On my honor.”

Seven leaned forward and whispered something in the Klingon’s ear. B’Elanna’s eyes grew wide, and she regarded Seven with increased respect.

“Really?”

“Yes,” Seven said.

B’Elanna smiled gently. “I think she’ll like that, Seven,” she said.

“I think so, as well,” Seven responded.

And actually smiled.

Janeway’s eyes flickered sideways from the schematics she was studying to the small alert in the corner of her viewscreen. The computer was reminding her that her shift was over, and that she had plans for the evening. Very important plans, judging from how, early that morning, Seven had made the captain swear on her honor to return to their quarters at a specific time. Then, Seven had kissed her good-bye with such passionate intensity that the captain assumed whatever plans the younger woman was formulating probably included some intensive lovemaking. Abashed at how much she tingled all over from that thought, Janeway’s generous mouth curled in a half-grin, and she began to shut down her board in preparation for logging off-duty.

I am a Starfleet captain, she told herself wryly. Seven and I are co-habitating, and have been for months. So why do I feel like I’m about to sneak out for my first romantic encounter?

Because, she promptly answered herself in the next breath, she was head over heels in love with the cool blonde, and for whatever reason, Seven of Nine had a profound effect upon her, an effect Janeway had never experienced with any of her previous lovers, all of whom had been male. The captain didn’t necessarily think it had anything to do with the gender, more to do with how being with the Borg made her feel inside. Janeway had never experienced such tender, protective, and profoundly intense feelings toward another person before. It was definitely something she had never considered herself to be; this completely hopeless romantic.

Nor had she considered herself to be all that … amorous … on a continuous basis, either, but with Seven, she couldn’t seem to get enough of her, though the captain tried hard to control her more ravenous impulses, not wanting to scare the young woman. She wondered how much of it was Seven, and how much of it was a result of the situation they were in, which admittedly for a Starfleet captain, was quite unique. Voyager was so far from home, and Janeway was so intensely aware of how much she had to balance her life with her partner, determined not to lose the woman for the sake of the captain. The chirp of the door chime interrupted her train of thought, and with a sigh of mingled annoyance and impatience, she settled back down behind her desk.

“Come in,” she offered, schooling her voice to a calm, even tone. It would not do to fidget like some sort of schoolgirl on her first assignation.

Commander Chakotay entered her ready room, and she raised an eyebrow expectantly. A tall, broad-shouldered man with handsome dark features, he exhibited a quiet, contained manner most of the time, though he did not hesitate to challenge her when he thought it was needed. She found him to be a very competent, and extremely accomplished executive officer, just as if he had been assigned to her by Starfleet in the first place, rather than being an ex-Maquis who had ended up on Voyager completely by accident.

“Captain,” he said, laying some padds down on her desk. “I was wondering, are you going to be bringing Paris into the project?”

She frowned. Tom Paris was the ship’s helmsman, and the best pilot they had. He was also the ex-lover of B’Elanna Torres with whom Chakotay now shared an intimate relationship. The two men had always been somewhat leery of each other, and she realized that their respective romantic entanglements with B’Elanna had not improved their attitude toward each other at all.

“Do you have some reason for bringing this up?” she said coolly.

He regarded her from level eyes, and grinned faintly. “He’s about to start his Beta shift rotation,” he said calmly. “With extra duty with the Doctor. He won’t be able to do that if you haul him into the project.”

Janeway did not blush, but she did lower her face a little. “Sorry, Chakotay,” she apologized without specifying what she was apologizing for. She suspected he knew. “He is our best pilot, and the test flight of the shuttle is scheduled soon. However, to be honest, I hadn’t thought about it.” She folded her hands on the desk in front of her and looked at him earnestly. “I would like to keep this as quiet as possible, at least until the first test is done.”

“I can fly it,” he said. Over his left eye, a tribal tattoo crinkled as he frowned briefly.

Janeway’s lips twitched. Chakotay’s record regarding shuttles was legendary. He personally was the pilot responsible for the loss of six separate vessels which had been destroyed in various missions. He had even rammed his own Maquis ship into a Kazon vessel not long after their arrival in the Delta Quadrant. It was understood that if you wanted the shuttle back in one piece, you simply did not send the first officer to pilot it.

“Thank you for the offer,” Janeway said evenly. “I was thinking I would fly the mission.”

He stared at her. “You can’t be serious,” he blurted in disbelief.

She raised an eyebrow, and he realized she was, coloring slightly at his unfortunate choice of tone. She held back a smile as she answered. “I realize I may be a little rusty, but some simulation time in the holodeck will knock that off. The fact is, I do carry the highest rating after Paris. I would prefer to keep Tom here. I’m expendable, he isn’t.”

Chakotay blinked. “There is not a single person on this ship who would accept that,” he said. “Nor, I doubt, anyone in Starfleet. Captains are not expendable in any way.”

“Not in this situation,” she replied easily. “You are fully capable of taking over my duties, but Tom’s gift at the helm is unique, and there’s no one else on board who could easily replace him.”

He shook his head. “You know I’m going to fight you on this,” he said.

She dipped her head in acknowledgment. “I understand that,” she allowed. “You’ll lose, however. I will pilot the initial test flight.” She smiled finally. “Besides, it will give me a chance to dust off my skills. While I admit you’ve actually managed to get me to take a back seat the past couple of years,” she said, “I was a great deal more ‘hands-on’ in the beginning of my command career. I miss the challenge of leading away missions.”

“You didn’t say that after you left the L’Borna system,” he countered.

Janeway paused. The mission which had seen her and five other people stuck in the small runabout for more than a week had been trying on her nerves to say the least, but the fact remained, deep down, she had enjoyed herself, had enjoyed letting go of Voyager for a brief time. She felt an itch to go out and do more, to not be restrained by her ship as be bolstered by it, to take charge of her destiny, not just be at its whim.

“This is something I feel I must do,” she said quietly.

“All right,” he said, raising his hands in surrender. “But don’t come wanting your ship back when it all goes wrong. I only give it up once.”

“That’s it,” she said, arching a brow. “Be positive.”

They grinned at each other, then a second, more insistent chime on her computer told her that there were other things more important that wrangling with her first officer.

“I have to go,” she said, standing up. “Would you do me a favor? Try to channel any unnecessary requests away from me this evening?”

“Big date, huh?” he said, standing up as well.

“You could say that,” she said noncommitally, eyeing him narrowly.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to pry,” he said immediately, apologetically holding his hands up.

She softened. “You’re not, Chakotay,” she said, tucking her arm in his as they left the ready room. “I guess I’m still not too open to the idea of sharing the intimate details of my love life, even with close friends.” She sighed. “I wish Seven felt that way.”

“Believe me,” he said, escorting her to the turbolift. “B’Elanna doesn’t get as much information about you two as you’d think.”

“I can only hope,” she said, offering him a half grin as the doors slid shut on her view of him.

Janeway took a breath as she felt the turbolift descend from the bridge, pausing at the deck where her quarters were located. Where their quarters were located. Janeway was still getting used to that idea, still adapting to living with Seven, still adjusting to sharing her life with someone full time. In truth, none of her previous relationships had gone this far, although she had been engaged twice before. Neither of the men had ever lived with her on a full-time basis, even while she had served on the same ship as Justin Tighe before his death. Prior to being lost in the Delta Quadrant, she had maintained her own home in San Francisco, not too far away from Mark Johnson’s but still definitely her own space, with her own yard, where her own dog played.

Occasionally, she wondered what had happened to all of it … to her furniture which she had chosen with an eye to comfort and elegance, as well as all the other things she had acquired over the span of her lifetime on Earth. Since Voyager and her crew had been declared officially lost, some fourteen months prior to encountering an alien communications network which allowed them to let Starfleet know they still existed, she suspected that her house had been sold, her possessions packed up and stored, if not disposed of completely. She did know her dog, Molly Malone, had been taken by Mark, who had subsequently married the woman he worked with.

It was shortly after receiving the ‘Dear Jane’ letter from Mark that she started looking at other options. Seven had not been one she would have initially chosen necessarily, but the young woman had wasted little time in wrapping herself irrevocably around Janeway’s heart and soul. The sheer unexpectedness of it still surprised the captain the rare times she attempted to analyze their relationship but then, she supposed that was what made life worth living … the wonderful, unanticipated joys that happened along.

She was smiling as she left the turbolift and headed for the captain’s quarters. She was barely in the door before a tiny red bundle of energy, and hairy excitement came tearing across the deck, and flung itself recklessly at her. Laughing, Janeway bent down and caught the small Irish Setter puppy in mid-air, drawing him up into her arms where she cradled him lovingly. The young dog was a souvenir from a previous adventure, and Janeway was completely captivated by him.

“Good dog,” she crooned as she scratched his ears. “Were you a good boy today?”

Seven was regarding them inscrutably from her work area. The tiny kitchenette, cordoned off by an L-shaped counter, was where Seven prepared all her meals, located very close to the replicator and the disposal unit. The countertop was covered with a simulated wooden butcher’s block top where she did most of her slicing and dicing. There was also a small sink, a heating unit, several compartments full of utensils, along with assorted other devices which had been acquired when Neelix had stopped performing his role as the ship’s cook.

“You should not reward him for leaping at you,” Seven told her, with more than a hint of disapproval in her voice. “If he continues to do it as an adult, his eventual size and mass could easily knock you to the ground.”

“I know,” Janeway said, grinning unrepentantly as she carried the small animal over to where Seven was filling two small bowls; one with water, the other with a mix of moist and dry puppy chow. She noticed that Seven had on her blue/grey outfit, the one she truly liked wearing, as opposed to merely utilizing the garment’s intended function as she did her other outfits. Janeway liked how she looked in it, the color bringing out Seven’s pale, azure eyes. “They’re so adorable at this age.”

“Fortunately, they grow out of it quickly,” Seven remarked evenly. She took the bowls over to a small pen situated in the corner, and placed them inside the low fencing. “He needs to consume nutrition now.” She turned to the captain and eyed her expectantly.

Janeway reluctantly, but obediently, lowered the puppy to the floor. “We really should find a name for him,” she remarked.

The small pup regarded her with profound disappointment, clearly wanting to be picked up again, but when Seven snapped her fingers, he was quick to look her way. Another hand gesture from the Borg, and he immediately scampered over to her, tongue lolling, tail wriggling rapidly, apparently forgetting all about the captain. He knew who provided the food after all. Seven lifted him up with one hand, and deposited him in the run where he pounced on his meal as if he were starving, scattering bits here and there in his eager enthusiasm.

Though the Borg had been less than enthusiastic about their sudden acquisition of a puppy, Seven had tackled training him with the same focus and concentrated determination that she brought to everything else. Already, the dog responded to simple hand signals, a snap of the fingers to get his attention, the quick hand against the thigh to indicate he should come, a clenched fist to make him sit. House-breaking him had been somewhat more difficult, and Janeway could see a few damp areas scattered about the area where Seven had been forced to utilize cleaners and odor neutralizers sometime in the recent past.

“A designation would make his training easier,” Seven agreed, going over to the sink to wash her hands. “Have you decided on any?”

“I did think about ‘Poohbear’,” Janeway offered casually. “What do you think?”

“His designation is irrelevant to me,” Seven replied evenly. Which meant she didn’t like it at all, Janeway guessed.

“I admit it’s a bit … cute,” Janeway said, resting her forearms on the nearest counter. “Especially when he grows up, though it could always be shortened to ‘Bear’ at that time.”

“He is not a bear, he is a dog,” Seven objected reasonably as she returned to preparing dinner. “We could call him One of Three.”

Janeway wrinkled her nose, suspecting she was being teased. “If he had been assimilated,” she said.

“Is that not what we did?” Seven said mildly. “Assimilated him into our immediate family unit?”

Janeway eyed her narrowly, then grinned. “What about ‘Jake’?” she offered.

Seven paused and Janeway could see her mouth the name silently. “There is an aesthetic quality about that,” Seven admitted finally. ” I appreciate it. Does it have a special significance?”

Janeway shook her head. “Not really, but it’s a good Irish name and I like how it sounds,” she said. “It will even work when he grows out of the cuddly stage.”

“His new designation shall be ‘Jake’,” Seven agreed, sprinkling spices into a dish.

Janeway smiled, and chose that moment to slip around the counter, behind her partner where she wrapped her arms tightly about Seven’s slender waist, snuggling against her.

“You, on the other hand, are quite cuddly at any stage,” she told her teasingly.

The slender, statuesque blonde with the metallic implants and cool demeanor made a brief sound of disbelief. “I believe that is an exaggeration,” she said pointedly. “Of immense proportions.”

“Not at all,” Janeway said, nuzzling the top of Seven’s spine above her collar. “By the way, I’m sorry I was a little late. I was held up by Chakotay.”

Seven turned around and looked down at her fondly, the corners of her full mouth turned up slightly. “That was not late for you,” she pointed out. “It was only ten point three minutes past the time we agreed upon. I am accustomed to you never showing up at all.”

Janeway squeezed her admonishingly. “Now, darling,” she protested, “I’ve been so good recently.”

“Yes, you have,” Seven relented, returning the hug. “I am glad you are here.” She bent her head slightly, kissing her warmly.

“Mmm,” Janeway murmured, settling happily into the embrace. She gazed up into the ice-blue eyes which were full of devotion. “What smells so wonderful?”

“You shall see,” Seven said. She tilted her head slightly as she regarded her. “I think you will enjoy it.”

“Are you going to tell me what this is all about?” Janeway prodded gently.

“Not yet,” Seven said. “Though I am surprised that you have not figured it out on your own.”

“I’m sure I will,” Janeway replied, grinning at the implied challenge. She kissed her partner once more, then drew away with a certain reluctance. “Do I have time to change?”

“Yes,” Seven replied. “In fact, I have laid out the garment I would like you to wear.”

“Oh, you have,” Janeway responded archly. She favored Seven with a startled look, then headed for the bedroom.

Intrigued by all this preparation, Janeway listed all the possible reasons for celebrating she could think of. None immediately came to mind, and she was still baffled as she found the civilian attire lying on the bed; a dress she knew Seven especially liked seeing her in, and one of the captain’s personal favorites. Janeway honestly could not figure out what Seven had in mind, or why she had wanted to make this night so special, but she decided she was more than willing to go along with it.

Janeway carried the outfit into the ensuite, hanging it on the door as she stripped off her uniform and took a quick shower. Afterward, pink and fresh, she picked up the provided undergarments, tingling again as she pulled on the fine wisps of silken material … definitely not Starfleet issue … before dabbing her favorite fragrance on her pulse points. She drew on the sleek, sapphire dress which left her arms bare, and plunged down to reveal a good portion of her cleavage. She checked her hair, wondering if she should let it grow out again. Her hair had always been her most frustrating feature, and she wished that she had some way of making it look glamorous, totally unaware that the warm auburn locks were considered to be absolute perfection by Seven.

Janeway fussed a bit more, decided to keep the jewelry simple, a gold chain and an elegant set of earrings before returning to the living area where the honest appreciation in Seven’s face was a wonderful reward for taking the time to primp a little. The captain sank gracefully onto the chair opposite the Borg, and removed the silver cover which had been keeping her meal warm.

“Darling, you spoil me,” Janeway said quietly as she inhaled the delicious scent of pasta and chicken in a light, golden sauce. It was not her absolute favorite, but she enjoyed it tremendously, and she knew the amount of effort that went into preparing it was considerable. She smiled widely at her partner who blushed faintly. “This is wonderful.”

“I am happy that it pleases you,” Seven remarked.

Janeway reached out and entwined her fingers in Seven’s. “You always please me, my darling,” she said gently. “You are incredible.”

Seven dipped her head. “I enjoy pleasing you,” she responded, eyes bright.

Janeway squeezed her fingers. “So what is this about?” she asked with a grin. “What’s the occasion?”

“You must eat first,” Seven told her unhelpfully, then offered the wonderful, rare smile that made her look so young, and allowed Janeway to glimpse the outgoing, personable woman Annika Hansen might have been had she never encountered the Borg. For a brief second, it made the captain’s heart ache. “At that point, I shall tell you if you have not already guessed.”

“I’ll try to be patient then,” Janeway allowed, swallowing hard against the lump that had suddenly appeared in her throat which made her voice husky. “I do want you to know I’m not complaining, however. I am loving every second of this.”

Seven brought Janeway’s hand up to her lips, kissing the knuckles gently. “That is my intention,” she said.

Baffled, but pleasantly so, Janeway began to eat the meal Seven had prepared for them. She noted that Seven’s portion was smaller, even though the younger woman massed far more than Janeway, both in height and musculature. She knew the remaining Borg implants made Seven require less solid organic nutrition than if she were fully Human. Still, the young woman had learned the value of delicious food, and she consumed her meal with apparent enjoyment.

Janeway was also surprised when Seven served a previously enjoyed wine with the meal. She had thought all her bottles were gone. “Where did this come from?” she asked.

“I requested that Neelix acquire several bottles for me while he was on the planet’s surface,” Seven explained. “He complied.”

“When he was with the away team Tuvok sent down?” the captain asked, astounded.

The Borg hesitated briefly. “Yes,” Seven replied carefully, as if suddenly realizing she had perhaps said something she shouldn’t.

Janeway took a breath, not knowing whether to be amused that the Talaxian and her partner were conspiring to acquire supplies, or if she should drop a bug into Tuvok’s ear about Neelix’s unauthorized acquisitions. The Vulcan security chief had not been enthusiastic about accepting the brash, outgoing Delta Quadrant native as a security officer in the first place, and it had taken a certain amount of convincing on her part to make him agree. To know Neelix was still not following strict Starfleet protocol would aggravate Tuvok to no end … as much as he allowed himself to be aggravated.

“I never heard about this,” Janeway said pointedly.

Startled, Seven looked at her, a furrow notching her forehead, but she did not answer, and after a few moments, she appeared to have worked out what her partner really meant. “I understand,” she said. She paused. “Would you like me to destroy the rest of the wine?”

It was Janeway’s turn to hesitate. “No sense wasting it,” she said dryly.

“Indeed,” Seven said evenly, filling her glass one more time.

Janeway shook her head. So much of what happened on Voyager simply would not have been acceptable in the Federation, but on the other hand, they were a long way away from the Alpha Quadrant, and her crew was comprised not only of Starfleet officers, but of Maquis outlaws and various civilians. A lot of compromising went on, though she knew it was her job to determine what exactly the parameters were.

She tried not to be overly concerned about it. God knew, there were plenty of larger issues to deal with in the course of the day as she tried to balance all the demands on her both as a captain and as a woman. She raised the glass in wry salute, and sipped at the delicate liquid with enjoyment. The vintage was absolutely delightful, and she decided she should be glad Seven was able to acquire it, especially since the captain’s Delta Quadrant wine collection had been steadily decreasing with little opportunity for replacements.

They finished the main course leisurely, then Seven provided dessert, along with a mug of finely brewed coffee. Janeway regarded the squares with astonishment. “I though we had finished the last of them,” she said.

“We did,” Seven replied as she placed the plate of caramel brownies, still warm from their creation, on the table. She favored Janeway with an uncertain look. “I attempted to recreate the recipe. I do not know if I succeeded.”

A recent encounter with an ancient device had landed Seven briefly in the Alpha Quadrant, where she had met Gretchen Janeway, Kathryn’s mother. The older woman was a staunch Traditionalist, highly skilled in the ancient arts of cooking and baking from scratch, and she had passed on all of Kathryn’s favorite recipes to the young Borg. Seven had done her best to recreate them, sometimes falling short … Gretchen Janeway was an unquestionable artist around the kitchen … but usually succeeding more often than she failed.

However, Gretchen Janeway’s caramel brownies were a culinary masterpiece, difficult to execute and probably impossible to recreate.

“I’m sure they’re wonderful,” Janeway said diplomatically as she picked up a square and bit into it gingerly.

They were better than wonderful. They were exactly as her mother used to make, right down to the gooey, chocolate aftertaste. Isolated and alone, small pleasures had acquired a much greater importance to Voyager’s crew in the Delta Quadrant, and the captain was no exception. This taste of home was a treasured gift, and Janeway thought she felt the burden lighten ever so slightly once again.

“They’re perfect,” Janeway told her sincerely, and Seven’s eyes shone.

Janeway ate three of the sweet squares, then finally, replete, she leaned back in her chair, tummy bulging under the sheer dress. She regarded it with a humorous quirk to her lips. Never one to grant much attention to her own physical well being, Janeway had frequently lost sleep and ate sporadically as a captain. Nature had granted her a fast metabolism which burned up calories at an awesome rate, and it took very few lost meals for her to acquire a starved sort of appearance. That was changing rapidly under Seven’s skilled and loving care, and Janeway wondered if it might be time for her to spend some time in the ship’s gym to trim down a bit. Too much of a good thing was as bad as too little, she thought. Then, she took another swallow of Seven’s wonderful coffee, and decided to think about it later.

“Tell me,” she commanded.

Seven regarded her indulgently. “First, I must give you something,” she said.

“A gift?” Janeway was honestly delighted. Seven was the only one who pampered the captain this way. She was the only one Janeway allowed to pamper her this way. “What is it?”

Seven passed her a small package, wrapped precisely with shimmering blue paper and a silver bow. “It is your birthday present,” Seven said proudly.

Startled, astounded, profoundly moved, Janeway could only stare at her. “My … birthday?” The captain immediately began translating the Stardate in her head, converting it over to the old time Earth dating system, not something she had call to do very often. “My god, I believe it is.” She smiled happily at her partner, and began to unwrap the gift. “I’d completely forgotten about it.” A velvet box was revealed, and inside was a diamond ring that was at once familiar, yet oddly out of place.

Janeway caught her breath, tilting it to catch the light from all sides. “Annika,” she whispered. “Do you know what this is?”

“Yes,” Seven replied promptly. “It is the ring your father gave your mother the day he asked her to marry him. Gretchen wanted me to give it to you. I have been carrying it in my bicep implant ever since she gave it to me. I was going to give it to you immediately upon my return, but when I saw what you had done for my birthday, I decided to save it for yours.”

Before Janeway could respond, Seven was kneeling next to her, taking the box from her gently, and fishing out the ring.

“I have researched this,” Seven said. “I know what I must do now.”

She slipped the ring on Janeway’s finger, and the captain supposed she should not be surprised that it fit perfectly. “Kathryn Janeway,” Seven of Nine said in her most formal tone. “Will you marry me and share my life forever?”

Seven waited expectantly for Kathryn’s answer. The captain seemed a little disconcerted, as if not understanding what was happening. Seven wondered if she should elaborate, or merely remain quiet until Kathryn had taken time to think. She decided on the latter, shifting her weight slightly so that it wasn’t all on one knee, waiting patiently as she regarded her partner closely. Kathryn was staring at her hand, at the ring that glittered with elegant splendor, her expression distant and uncertain.

“Is something wrong, Kathryn?” she asked finally in her gentlest tone, spurred into speaking by the length of time that had passed.

Kathryn shook her head. “No,” she whispered. “It’s just….” A wry smile crossed her lips. “Neither of my parents ever did anything like this before. I know they’re Traditionalists, but this is a tradition I was unaware of. They certainly didn’t invoke it for either Justin or Mark.”

Seven considered that. “What do you think it means?” she asked curiously.

Janeway had an odd expression, tender, regretful and startled all at the same time. “I think,” she said slowly, raising her eyes to meet Seven’s, “It means that my mother likes you a lot more than she has any of my other … uh, paramours.”

Seven blinked. “Oh,” she said. “I like her very much as well.” She hesitated. “Are you going to answer my question?” she added uncertainly.

Janeway looked at her blankly for a moment, then flushed furiously. “Of course I am,” she said, sliding her arms around Seven’s neck, and resting her forehead against hers. “You are my heart, Annika Hansen. I want nothing more than to share the rest of my life with you in every way possible.”

Seven nodded in satisfaction. “Acceptable,” she said.

Janeway looked thoughtful. “Does this mean that you want to have a ceremony soon?” she asked.

Seven took a breath. “What it means is that I wished to make your birthday very special,” she replied honestly. “However, I have been thinking about a ceremony for some time.”

“And?” Janeway prodded gently.

“I think I would like to wait until we return to the Alpha Quadrant,” Seven said slowly, unsure of how her partner would accept this. “So that Gretchen and Phoebe may attend. Now that we know our return in the near future is not only possible, but probable, I feel that is our best option.” She studied the captain anxiously. “Does that meet with your approval?”

Kathryn smiled tremulously. “I think that would be wonderful,” she said gently. “I would love for us to be married in Indiana.”

“Again, acceptable,” Seven agreed. She caught Janeway’s wistful expression, and she dipped her head to look into the eyes which were more blue than grey. “What?”

“I was just thinking,” Janeway said dryly. “You’re turning into quite the romantic. Most Humans would not have been as thoughtful in their preparation for this evening.”

Seven raised her eyebrow. “I have spent some time considering our situation carefully,” she explained. “I realize that being with you is the most crucial and necessary aspect of my existence. It is logical to elevate our relationship to the next level.”

“So it is,” Janeway allowed with a smile. She leaned forward and gently kissed Seven, her lips touching hers with loving sweetness. Seven returned the kiss carefully, understanding that this was a very emotional moment, wanting it to last forever.

Jake, fresh off his post meal nap, broke into a flurry of howls designed to make his mistresses let him out for a run. Seven drew away from the captain with a sigh.

“I still do not know why we must keep him,” she complained.

Janeway smiled. “Darling, you don’t fool me for a minute,” she said. “You adore him.”

Seven hesitated, wondering if that was speculation on the captain’s part, or if she had somehow acquired some factual knowledge. “Nonetheless, his presence is very inconvenient,” she insisted.

Janeway laughed, released her grip on Seven and went over to retrieve the puppy from his run. “Imagine what a child would be like,” she said over her shoulder.

Frowning, Seven considered that.

Freed, Jake began to barrel about the quarters as if propelled by an internal warp core. Seven watched his random dashing here and there with a mix of annoyance, which she displayed, and mild amusement, which she carefully kept hidden. She refused to admit that she was actually starting to have feelings for the small animal, especially to her partner. She knew that if the captain found out the extent of them, she would attempt to talk Seven into allowing him to share their bed.

That fond of him she would never be, Seven considered darkly.

Janeway was trying to interest the pup in a ball, wanting him to chase after it, pick it up and bring it back to her. He had the chasing part down very well, but the ball was just slightly too big for him to get his jaws around it comfortably, and very often, something would distract him just as he was about to pounce on it. At which time, he would promptly shoot off in another direction whereupon Janeway would go retrieve the ball, find him, and try again.

Seven wondered idly who exactly was being taught to ‘fetch’ here.

While the young woman cleaned up the dining area, she watched them play, forced more than once to step lightly as Jake scrambled across the floor with little regard for what was in his way. He seemed to be enjoying himself, however, and Seven knew play was an important part of the bonding ritual needed for him to accept Janeway as also being his mistress. Because of the captain’s many duties, it had actually fallen on Seven to do most of his caretaking and training.

She discovered she was unsurprised by that development. Somehow she had known the second Janeway’s counterpart had shoved the tiny bundle into her arms that she would forever be responsible for the creature, even though he had been intended for the captain.

Still, Janeway did perform a useful function. Seven found limited enjoyment in romping with Jake whereas Kathryn absolutely adored it. That was fortunate, especially since this breed did require a great deal of exercise, and would need a correspondingly increasing amount as he grew larger. Seven decided that was going to be primarily the captain’s department.

She scooped up a few of her padds, and found a relatively quiet spot on the couch, keying in the slipstream data, ignoring the sounds of their play, though not the rather becoming sight of Janeway in that dress chasing the puppy about their quarters. After a while, Janeway and Jake had thoroughly exhausted one another, and moved over to the sofa to join Seven, the captain stretching out full length on the cushions, her head on the young woman’s lap, while Jake sprawled his tiny body over the captain’s belly. He immediately fell asleep, and began twitching in his slumber, undoubtedly retrieving the ball in his dreams that he refused to do while awake.

Seven rested her right hand lightly on Janeway’s upper chest. “Are you enjoying your birthday?” she asked gently.

Janeway, whose eyes were closed, smiled briefly. “I am indeed,” she said. “It’s the best birthday I can remember having in a long time.”

Seven nodded. “I am glad,” she said.

She returned her attention to the padd as her right hand, almost of its own volition, slipped down until it rested over the small swell of Janeway’s left breast. She did not squeeze, merely placed it there, keeping her eyes focused on the tiny screen … though she was vaguely curious what Janeway’s response would be. For a few moments, there wasn’t any, other than the small quirk to Janeway’s mouth, a curled half grin.

“Seven,” she asked finally, her voice husky. “What are you doing?”

“Reviewing the specifications for the shuttle’s navigational system,” Seven replied accurately.

“I mean, with your hand,” Janeway elaborated.

Seven thought about that. It was rather obvious what her hand was doing, which meant that had to be a rhetorical question. Those type of questions, she had learned, did not require a response. However, the inflection in the captain’s voice indicated that she was expecting some kind of answer. She considered her options.

“Do you wish me to remove it?” she finally ventured, deciding to answer the question with another question. “Is it disturbing you?”

“No, to both questions,” Janeway said with a faint grin. “I just wanted to know if you knew where it was.”

Seven was puzzled. “I always know where my hands are,” she pointed out.

“So long as you do,” Janeway said dryly.

That ended the conversation for awhile, and Seven returned to her work. Idly, she let her fingers gently stroke the silken sapphire material beneath them, not particularly surprised when a small bump appeared, making an obstruction on what had been a fairly smooth surface. Her fingertips toyed with the small knot absently, not allowing it to distract her from her task.

She noted the captain was breathing very carefully, one slow breath after another, controlled, contained, giving no other outward indication that she was noticing what Seven was doing at all. Seven thought that was deceptive, and she allowed herself a bit of amusement with the game. She wondered when the captain would finally demand more, when she would request that the caresses be intensified.

But the moments continued to pass quietly, just the muted sounds of Seven touching the padd’s panel with one hand, the soft whisper of fingertips over silk with the other, the slow, steady intake of breath from the captain, Seven’s own quiet respiration, and the occasional checked pant from the slumbering Jake. Seven discovered she was becoming aroused, that it was extremely difficult to continue her work with any sort of concentration. It vaguely annoyed her that the captain seemed to have more discipline over her body than she did her own, especially since the captain was the one being stimulated.

When Janeway finally did stir, however, it was to reach up and capture Seven’s hand, pulling it away from her breast. “Dance with me,” she requested quietly.

Startled, Seven nonetheless put down her padd, and slipped from beneath Kathryn’s head. She scooped the dog carefully from off Janeway’s lap, carrying the small animal over to the pen where she placed him ever so gently on the circular bed. The pup did not react beyond a minor whimper as she laid him down, curling up tightly, tail over his nose. Clearly, Janeway had completely tired him out. Seven wondered if that had been deliberate.

The gentle sounds of guitar strings, of violins and the soft wail of a solo sax suddenly filled the air as Seven straightened and turned around. The lights had been dimmed until there was only a mild illumination, enough for the women to see while granting a cozy atmosphere to the area. Seven regarded her partner who stood waiting for her in the middle of the room, captivated by the level blue-grey eyes which were so marvelously deep and penetrating, the auburn hair falling soft around the elegant cheekbones, the slim, lithe body beneath the silken sheathe. Seven felt an ache in her chest, unable to define why, only knowing that Kathryn was the most beautiful thing she had ever witnessed in her life.

The captain stretched out her hand and Seven accepted it, making the step across the space that separated them. She took Janeway into her arms carefully, gingerly, as if this woman was some special treasure that could not be handled with anything, but the most exquisite care, though Seven knew for sheer determination, for the iron will, there was absolutely no one stronger than the captain.

“Annika,” Janeway said simply as they began to sway together, slowly, moving as one. “I love you.”

Seven felt tears stinging the back of her eyes, the emotion swelling inside her, threatening to overflow. She swallowed hard, acutely aware of her partner so yielding against her, of her left arm firm around the captain’s waist, the mesh-covered hand resting lightly at the small of her back, her right holding Kathryn’s in its grip as if it were spun glass, fragile, delicate. Seven bent her head, her left cheek resting against the captain’s temple, feeling the warm breath dance lightly across her neck.

“I love you, Kathryn,” she responded quietly. Such short words, simple, seemingly inadequate, yet containing a universe of meaning that no others could.

The captain tightened her arm about Seven’s shoulders, pulling her closer, fitting herself to the Borg as they danced throughout the living area. Seven had no real idea of what to do, intent only on keeping this wonderful contact going forever. It seemed so right to be with her partner this way, so natural to move with her to the rhythm of the music surrounding them, though when she finally did ease them into the bedroom, Kathryn did not resist at all. They stopped next to the bed, and Seven drew back to look down into the beloved face, falling into the marvelous eyes that welcomed her in.

For a timeless instant, everything seemed to stop, and Seven thought she would probably be lost in that gaze forever. Then, Janeway’s mouth curled ever so slightly at the corner.

“Annika,” she prompted softly. “Are you waiting for something?”

“No longer,” Seven replied honestly. “You are all I could ever want or need. I could look into your eyes forever.”

Janeway looked pleased and shy. “You really do say the loveliest things, Annika,” she told her, reaching up to place her palm against Seven’s cheek.

Seven leaned closer, covering Janeway’s mouth with her own. It was a wonderful kiss, passionate, yet sweet at the same time, conveying love and desire, tenderness and eagerness in just the right amounts, lasting the most exacting duration … though Janeway still seemed a little breathless when it was through. Seven smiled at her, every sense filled with her partner, her taste, her touch, the soft fragrance of hair and skin and perfume. Seven thought she could scarcely bear the sheer perfection of this moment.

“Happy Birthday, Kathryn,” she whispered. “Happy Birthday.”

Janeway woke in pleasant warmth, in loving arms and a cozy sense of things being completely right with the universe. She took a deep breath, stretching slightly before snuggling closer to the lanky form next to her, sighing with blissful contentment. She truly loved waking up next to Annika, adored the touch of her body against hers, of feeling connected to this person in a way she had never felt with anyone else.

Seven was awake, her hand coming up to gently touch Janeway’s cheek, to stroke luxuriously through her hair. Janeway didn’t know if Seven required less sleep than she did, or if the very actions the captain made while waking up … the change in respiration, the shifting of position … also woke Seven at the same time. All she knew was that it was a rare morning that she awoke, and Seven slept on. On those very precious occasions, Janeway would spend as long as she could looking down into the slumbering face, so achingly innocent and peaceful, unaware of the passing time as she regarded the young woman, feeling as if her heart would burst out of her chest.

This morning, Seven seemed content to lie there with the captain in her arms, not saying anything, merely nuzzling the top of Janeway’s head gently. The captain slid her arms around the nearest part of Seven’s torso, and hugged her gently. “Good morning, darling,” she said, voice husky from sleep.

“Good morning, Kathryn,” Seven replied quietly, and Janeway could hear the smile in her voice. “You slept well.”

Janeway smiled, resting her head on the warm chest, feeling it rise and fall in steady rhythm. “Yes, I did,” she replied. “How about you? Any bad dreams?” Since her re-assimilation a few weeks before, Seven had found herself occasionally experiencing nightmares which involved Borg and the Collective, but they were not regular, nor did they increase in intensity. When she woke from them, however, they tended to disturb the young woman for the rest of the day.

“Not at all,” Seven said. She paused. “You?”

Janeway raised up, looking down at her partner. She frowned slightly as she thought about it. “Do you know, I haven’t had a single bad dream since that incident with the Borg,” she said thoughtfully. She had not realized it before. “You’d think if anything, that would have provided me with a whole new set of nightmares.”

“Perhaps you handle being assimilated better than I do,” Seven allowed evenly.

Janeway snorted. “I find that hard to believe,” she said. She reached up and stroked Seven’s chin, running her thumb idly over the small dimple in it. “Thank you for last night,” she said warmly. “It was the most wonderful birthday I can ever remember having.”

Seven’s eyes grew darker, almost glowing. “I’m glad,” she said. She wrapped her arms around Janeway, drawing her closer. They kissed for a few moments, light gentle kisses, a way of starting their day off correctly. “I love you, Kathryn,” Seven said when they finally parted.

“Darling, you’re my heart,” Janeway said. “You know that.”

“I do,” Seven agreed. “Can we be together today?”

Janeway smiled regretfully. “Hmm, I’d love to,” she said, “but we can’t. There’s really too much work to do.”

Seven looked depressed. “Oh,” she said.

Janeway cupped her face and studied her. “I think I’ve been too indulgent with you,” she said thoughtfully. “There was a time when we rarely got a day to spend together, yet now that I’ve made it a regular occurrence every week or so, you’re still disappointed.”

Seven blushed. “I know, Kathryn,” she said. “I am sorry. I just like being with you.”

“I adore being with you,” Janeway said, kissing her gently. “However, we do have responsibilities, and at the moment, the slipstream project is a priority.”

“I will work very hard,” Seven promised. “I will make this happen.”

Janeway smiled at her. “I know you will, love,” she said. “We wouldn’t even be attempting this without you.” She kissed her again, then rolled out of bed. “Come along, darling.”

Seven sighed a bit as the captain captured her hand, and pulled her out of the cozy nest of blankets, but she did not resist. Janeway went into the ensuite first, showering and donning the uniform that had been replicated the night before. When she finished, Seven had breakfast already on the table, and Janeway took a long draught from the steaming mug of coffee as the young woman disappeared back into the bedroom.

Janeway had not been in the habit of eating breakfast … another bad habit laid to rest, she thought sardonically … before being involved with Seven. Now, the young woman made sure the captain had a large meal to start her morning, heavy on fruits and cereals, with the rich, flavorful coffee the only vice she was allowed. Janeway smiled as she consumed her blueberry pancakes and orange juice, enjoying the fact that in here, in these rooms, she was the one being taken care of rather than always having to take care of everyone else.

Seven returned from the bedroom after a pass through the sonic shower, wearing her old outfit, the brown mesh suit. It, along with her blonde hair which was done up in an austere bun, accorded her demeanor an impassive coldness. The kiss she deposited on the back of Janeway’s neck was far from cold, however.

“What will you do today?” the Borg asked as she sat across from the captain, quickly eating her own breakfast, so much smaller than the captain’s, which meant they finished at about the same time.

Janeway drained the last of her coffee and stood up, depositing her dishes in the nearby recycling unit.

“Long range sensors have picked up an unusual binary star system,” she explained as she scooped her pips off the table, and fastened them to her collar. To the left of her tunic, she affixed the golden comm badge. “Astrophysics has made a formal request to study it, so I’m having the ship take up station-keeping inside the area.” She looked at Seven. “I was thinking, if we have all the sensors keyed to the phenomena while Chakotay maintains the aft subsystems, we could do a test flight with no one being the wiser.”

Seven looked thoughtful as she drifted over to the captain, reaching up to straighten Janeway’s collar idly, smoothing it with her fingers as she made sure the four golden pips were prominently displayed. “We are very close to that stage,” Seven admitted slowly. “Once the deflector array is adjusted, we will have advanced as far as we can using the holodeck simulations.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Janeway said, regarding her partner quietly. She paused. “I intend to pilot the test flight.”

Seven raised an eyebrow, the metallic eyepiece glinting as she frowned, but she did not answer right away. Instead, she returned Janeway’s gaze with one of her own, steady, immovable. Since their mutual assimilation, she and Janeway had come to share a certain understanding that displayed itself at the most unexpected times. This was apparently one of them since the captain did not receive the objections she was expecting.

“I will accompany you in order to monitor the energy readouts,” Seven said.

Janeway swallowed her immediate outburst. “You are the expert on the slipstream technology,” she said mildly. “I don’t know that the ship can afford to lose you. If anything goes wrong…”

“If anything goes wrong,” Seven interrupted. “I would be required to fix it. B’Elanna, meanwhile, is better suited for reproducing the work, and in fact, it is possible she could improve upon it.” She dipped her head, pinning Janeway’s eyes. “I will not be separated from you,” she added firmly. “Not in this.”

Defeated, the captain lowered her eyes. “All right,” she agreed. She smiled faintly. “To be honest, I want you along.”

Seven slipped her arms around her and hugged her. “I am glad, Kathryn,” she whispered into the auburn hair. “Be sure to have a good day.”

Janeway returned the embrace, reaching up to kiss Seven gently on the chin. “You too, love.”

They drew away from each other, and Seven handed the captain a thermos before picking up her own padds from where she had dropped them on the table. They headed out the door together, splitting up at the turbolift. Janeway took the first car to the bridge, the thermos tucked under her arm as she stepped onto command central. She nodded at her chief of security, Tuvok as she entered, and he raised an elegantly upswept eyebrow.

“Good morning, Captain,” he said from his post at tactical.

“Good morning, Tuvok,” she responded with a gentle smile. She wondered briefly if she should have brought him into her confidence about the slipstream project. He was her closest friend on the ship, and his role as her security chief would mean that once he did find out, he would be … mildly annoyed. Which meant in Human terms, of course, that he would be positively furious with her.

Susan Nicoletti had replaced Lt. Kim at ops. If the dark-haired engineer noticed that she was taking over more and more of his bridge time lately, she had not mentioned it, or indicated anything other than pleasure at receiving the opportunity to cover operations.

The science station was being covered by Lt. Angela James. To be honest, Janeway was surprised that the young woman had continued to request the alpha rotation. Lt. James had been briefly involved with the first officer, and was subsequently not pleased when he developed a romantic relationship with B’Elanna Torres. She had initially being very vocal about it in such places as the mess hall and the recreation areas, but she did not have much to say about it ever since B’Elanna had confronted her in a corridor one morning, and explained exactly what would happen if she didn’t grow up, and accept things as they were.

Janeway was quite aware she wasn’t supposed to know about that. She was also aware that Chakotay definitely didn’t. She supposed that was yet another shade to being involved with Seven. With B’Elanna having her finger on the pulse of the ship, Seven tended to find out things very quickly from her friend, and was not hesitant about sharing them with the captain. In this case, Seven thought that B’Elanna’s approach to solving the problem was quite efficient. Janeway decided this new view of her ship and her crew, now that she was receiving the scuttlebutt as soon as it developed, was an advantage, allowing her to forestall certain problems much quicker … even if it did make her uneasy at times.

She nodded at Chakotay who held the conn.

“If I could see you in my ready room?” she invited.

“Understood,” he said. He grinned faintly as he followed her in. “Paris has been asking questions,” he added once the door closed behind them.

Janeway placed the thermos on her desk and sat down, regarding him with a frown.

“Indeed,” she said. “Anyone else?”

“I’m pretty sure Tuvok knows everything,” he revealed, slouching in the chair opposite her. “He’s been remarkably uninterested in my scheduling lately. Frankly, he should be displaying every indication of being extremely interested.”

She took a breath. “I agree,” she said. “That doesn’t sound like him.” She paused, thinking. “I want you to fill him in,” she decided. “Astrophysics has requested we stop a few days to study the binary system we’re coming up on. I think it would be a perfect time to run the test, and if Tuvok is in on it, he can monitor any sensors that might pick up the flight. Of course, once a successful series of tests are done on the shuttle, we’ll be able to start adapting Voyager. Everyone can know then.”

Chakotay nodded. “Good idea,” he said. He eyed her narrowly. “You’re really determined to go through with this?”

She favored him with a thin smile. “I will pilot the Edison,” she said firmly.

“I still think you’re making a mistake,” he warned her. “The captain just doesn’t do things like that.”

“You know, Chakotay,” she remarked, opening her thermos to pour her first working cup of coffee that day. “For an ex-Maquis, you have some very definite opinions of what a Starfleet captain should and should not do.”

“Just my captain,” he said dryly.

She raised an eyebrow at him and grinned. “You just don’t want me to have any fun,” she accused.

“I just don’t want you to get killed,” he said seriously.

She blinked. “Is that what you’re anticipating?” she asked. “That whoever pilots the shuttle will be killed?”

“It’s a possibility, Kathryn,” he said. “That’s why Starfleet test pilots have the highest mortality rates of all.”

She nodded. “I have more faith in B’Elanna and Seven’s skills than you do,” she said humorously.

“What does Seven think about this?” he asked. “Or does she know?”

She eyed him narrowly. “She does,” she offered. “As a matter of fact, she’s going along to monitor.”

He settled back in his chair, taking a breath. “Oh,” he said. Clearly, that had been his trump card. The captain realized he had planned to get Seven to try to talk her out of doing this since he could not. Honestly, did these people really think they could outmaneuver her?

She leaned forward. “Is there anything else?” she asked, holding back her grin.

“Uh, no, Captain,” he responded, getting to his feet.

She smiled at him. “Don’t worry, Chakotay,” she said. “Nothing will go wrong.”

“I wish you hadn’t said that,” he said. “That’s just asking for the fates to intervene.”

She waved it off. “Superstition,” she scoffed.

Seven finished the last of the alterations to the shuttle’s deflector array. The slipstream technology worked by funneling the energy through the array, and focusing it into a tight beam, opening up a sort of ‘tunnel’ through space which seemed to shorten the distance between two points immeasurably. Seven had the math in her head to make it work, but she doubted that she would ever have the vocabulary needed to explain it to anyone without a scientific or engineering background. Not that she needed to. The fact that it worked should be sufficient for anyone.

It would work. She was absolutely convinced of that.

B’Elanna popped into the cockpit where Seven was refitting the last coupling. The dark-haired woman had become progressively more animated as the work progressed, though she hadn’t seemed that enthusiastic at first. Indeed, she had been interested in the engineering challenge, but Seven suspected that deep down, Torres did not really believe the whole thing possible. Now that she had come to realize that returning to the Alpha Quadrant was almost in reach, she was displaying every indication of enthusiasm.

“How are we coming?” she asked, leaning over Seven’s shoulder.

Seven snapped shut the panel. “I have completed the alignment,” she said.

B’Elanna stared at her for a moment. “Then, that’s it,” she said. “We’re done.”

“Yes,” Seven agreed. She was unprepared for the howl of exhilaration that exploded from the Klingon, and she watched in bemusement as B’Elanna danced around the cockpit. A hefty thump between her shoulder blades was apparently intended to include her in the celebration.

“We’re going home,” B’Elanna said. She looked around. “I wish Harry was down here to celebrate with us. It’s too bad he had to return to the bridge.”

“It is somewhat premature to celebrate,” Seven warned mildly. “The drive must still be tested.”

B’Elanna nodded. “I know, but every simulation we ran in the holodeck was clean,” she said. “There’s no reason to think it will be any different in reality.”

“As you, yourself have said, however,” Seven reminded her. “Simulations are not reality.”

B’Elanna just grinned at her. “Who’s gonna fly this thing?”

Seven frowned. “The captain has decided that she will … pilot the initial test,” she said reluctantly.

“The captain?” Torres was plainly surprised. “I thought that Paris would be brought in to do the honors.”

“It is her decision,” Seven said without inflection. In truth, she wasn’t sure how she felt about it, but at least she would be going with her.

B’Elanna shrugged. “Well, better her than Paris, anyway,” she said. “Paris and I don’t exactly make a good team anymore.”

“I will be monitoring the readings on board the shuttle,” Seven corrected her.

“Now, waitaminute,” the Klingon flared, putting her hands on her hips. “That’s my job.”

“No,” Seven countered reasonably. “It will be your job to monitor the energy display from Voyager. In the event something … happens, then you are better able to reproduce the work, and see where the error was made than I would be.”

B’Elanna stared at her. “There you go,” she said. “Looking on the bright side again.” She frowned and eyed Seven closely. “This isn’t just an excuse for you and the captain to take off on a vacation somewhere is it? You know, a little R&R before you come back and get us?”

Seven was profoundly shocked. “I…that….”

B’Elanna laughed, and thumped her again on the arm. “Just kidding,” she said. She let out her breath and sat down in the pilot’s seat, swinging it around to look up at Seven with wide eyes. “Wow, we’re going home, Seven.”

“That is the intention,” the Borg agreed. She took a seat at the science station, turning the chair so that she was facing her friend. “I am confused by your enthusiasm,” she offered. “You were quite willing to return to the Delta Quadrant when we previously found ourselves in the Federation.”

“That was different,” B’Elanna insisted. “All the people I cared about … well, except for Chakotay and you … were still stranded in the Delta Quadrant, and so was my ship. I couldn’t just leave everyone and everything behind. But now that we’re all going home together…” She leaned back in the chair, linking her hands behind her head. “Honestly Seven, I can hardly wait.”

Seven considered that. “What about the Maquis?” she asked. “Would you not still be considered a criminal?”

B’Elanna shook her head. “Actually,” she replied. “From what we gathered the last time we were there, the Federation didn’t seem too interested in prosecuting anyone who managed to survive the Jem’Hadar. That wasn’t a lot.” A dark shadow passed over her face at that, but she took a breath and straightened, seeming to shrug it off for the moment. “In fact, considering the war, I think they’d be thrilled to have the experienced personnel to spread throughout the ‘Fleet.”

Seven blinked. “I had not realized,” she said slowly. “The crew of Voyager will no longer be intact.”

B’Elanna regarded her sympathetically. “That’s just how it goes, Seven,” she said, not unkindly. “It’s pretty doubtful that the captain will even be able to keep the ship.”

“What do you mean?”

B’Elanna looked as if she regretted having brought it up. “It’s just that, in any situation like this,” she said carefully, “there will be a Board of Inquiry into Janeway’s actions. I don’t know how she’ll come out of that.” She leaned forward. “Don’t get me wrong, Seven. Janeway’s the greatest captain I’ve ever seen, let alone been fortunate to serve under, but the fact is, she violated the Prime Directive in stranding us here in the first place, and she has done other things like interfere in certain situations that maybe a group of stuffed-shirt admirals might not understand.”

“Are you saying it would be bad for Kathryn to return to the Alpha Quadrant?” Seven asked faintly.

B’Elanna winced. “Look, all I’m saying is that how Voyager is in the Delta Quadrant, is not how it’s going to be in the Alpha Quadrant,” she explained. “Not for her or any of her crew.”

“I had not really considered what would happen to us upon our return,” Seven admitted. “Beyond being able to see Gretchen and Phoebe again, or speculating on how Kathryn and I would live.” She took a breath and pinned the chief engineer with a direct stare. “Her family accepted me, but others may not. That could be difficult for Kathryn if she is also in trouble with Starfleet Command.”

“I doubt she’s worried about that,” B’Elanna said, getting up and going over to Seven, patting her clumsily on the shoulder. “Look, Seven, one step at a time. We’ll worry about what might happen when we actually get there, all right?”

“Very well,” Seven agreed, though internally, she was far from settled with it. In truth, B’Elanna had given her much to think about.

“Come on,” the engineer said, grabbing her arm and hauling her to her feet. “Let’s go tell the captain the good news.”

Janeway activated her board, and glanced over her shoulder at Seven who was at the engineering console, keying in last minute data. The Borg was once more garbed in her blue-grey suit, wearing it for ‘luck’, as she had told the captain earlier that morning when they were still snuggled in bed prior to starting their day. Janeway thought that there were far too many people on board who were beginning to infect Seven with their various brands of superstition. As a scientist, Janeway didn’t believe in ‘luck’. As a captain, she knew you made your own.

“Status,” she asked crisply.

“All systems at optimum,” Seven replied smartly. “Standing by.”

“Prepare for launch sequence,” Janeway said.

Through the viewport in front of her, Janeway could see the hangar deck appear to lower beneath them as she brought the shuttle up off the pad, and headed towards the huge bay doors, opened to the beckoning darkness of deep space. There was no one to see them off besides Tuvok, who was in hangar control, his lean dark form standing sentinel as they left Voyager. On the bridge, Janeway knew their departure was being monitored by Chakotay and Harry, who were channeling all the sensor data regarding the aft area of the ship through their consoles, preventing any of the rest of the crew, who were busy monitoring the data streaming in from the binary system, from catching on that the Edison was leaving the ship.

It is possible to steal a shuttle from a starship undetected, Janeway considered wryly, but only if one had a certain amount of cooperation from the bridge crew.

“We are at half-impulse,” she noted as the tiny ship cleared the doors and drifted into the vacuum. “Going to full.”

“Sensors detect an asteroid at bearing seven-three mark four,” Seven noted. “It is sufficient to help conceal our trail.”

“Bearing seven three mark four,” Janeway agreed, steering around the bulk of rock drifting gently in open space. “Full impulse, preparing for warp,” she said. “Warp factor one.”

“Slipstream drive is at station keeping,” Seven remarked.

“Go to slipstream on my mark,” Janeway instructed. She glanced behind her again to find Seven’s eyes pinning hers. She smiled gently. “Mark.”

“Initiating slipstream,” Seven said, keying in the proper instructions.

The acceleration was noticeable in the small vessel as it leapt forward, and Janeway was mesmerized by the view of space swirling before her as a conduit appeared where she directed the shuttle. She caught her breath as the vessel moved easily under her touch, responding quickly, and she glanced down to see the readout near her right hand ticking off the distance. One lightyear, two, ten, fifteen…

The slipstream drive was working.

“Status,” she said.

“Integrity field is holding,” Seven said. There was a pause. “Captain, sensors are detecting an anomaly to starboard.” Her voice was suddenly urgent. “We must divert course, mark three.”

Janeway’s fingers flew over her board, and the shuttle shuddered as she tried to alter its course away from the anomaly. She didn’t know what it was, a black hole, a nebula, a magnetic string, but it was undoubtedly affecting them, pulling them to starboard.

“Can you increase the drive output ratio?” she said.

“Attempting to do so,” Seven replied.

When the end came, it came with a bang.

Seven opened her eyes dazedly, her vision obscured by fluid which she was forced to wipe away. Her fingers came away crimson, and she knew she was cut … how badly remained to be discovered. She straightened gingerly, head pounding, her ears ringing, as she used the console to lever herself up. Her board was lit with a multitude of red, flashing urgently as they sought to convey the message that things were far from optimum operating status. However, a quick glance told her that the shuttle was relatively intact, at least for the immediate future.

She tried to ignore the various hurts echoing through her body, turning to the front of the shuttle cockpit. She got to her feet, leaning against her station as she peered through the air that was filled with smoke, and acrid scent of burning synthetics. She could barely make out the form slumped over the helm, and anxiously, she staggered toward it.

She noted the crumpled, broken figure of the captain with dismay, and with extreme care, she felt for the pulse point at the neck, closing her eyes in relief as the flutter of heartbeat, weak but steady, met her fingertips. Her touch seem to rouse the captain, and Janeway stirred, a groan issuing from between cut lips as she opened her eyes.

“Be still, Captain,” Seven urged as she fished for a medical tricorder from the compartment.

As usual, the captain did not listen, pushing herself up and looking over the board, a low cry tearing from her throat as she did. “Status?” she demanded, though her voice was only a weak croak, hunched in her chair against her injuries.

Seven was entirely capable of doing two things at once, and she ran a diagnostic on her partner with the tricorder even as she checked the helm control.

“Impulse power is off-line,” she recited, glancing worriedly at the small screen recording the captain’s bio-readings. “Main power is down, and we are operating with emergency life support only.”

She retrieved a medikit from the compartment where she had gotten the tricorder. “You,” she added with dismay, “have a fractured collar bone, four broken ribs, a broken wrist and a mild concussion. Please, be still.”

“We have to re-establish main power,” Janeway ordered though she tried to stay as immobile as possible as Seven injected her with a hypospray to dull the pain, and began to run a bone-knitter over her torso.

“It can wait until you are repaired,” Seven said sternly

Janeway took a deep, experimental breath when the Borg moved on to her shoulder, wincing at the tightness. She frowned as she looked at Seven.

“What about you?” Janeway asked.

Seven flicked a glance at her. “What about me?” she responded.

“You’re bleeding all over yourself,” Janeway pointed out. “You’re cut on the forehead, on your chin, and under your left ear. Not to mention your two black eyes.”

“They are minor wounds,” Seven said dismissively.

“Sit down,” Janeway ordered, retreiving a dermal regenerator from the medikit before Seven had even managed to finish mending the captain’s fractured wrist.

Seven hesitated, judged the look in the captain’s eyes which were a stormy grey, and sat down in the co-pilot’s seat. She studied the helm as Janeway ran the medical instrument over her face and neck. As soon as Janeway clicked off the regenerator, Seven began keying data into the helm.

“I’ll need a replacement oscillator,” she said, getting up. Quickly she retrieved the necessary part from the compartment at the rear of the vessel and began to install it, replacing the damaged one which emitted a shower of sparks before she was able to pull it out.

“What happened?” Janeway asked quietly as she worked on the impulse engines. The warp core was completely gone, Seven noted, and the slipstream drive had fused itself into an unworkable mass of metal along with the deflector array. They had been very fortunate that the anti-matter had been ejected before that happened.

“I am uncertain,” Seven said as she finished replacing the oscillator. “The anomaly emitted an unusual form of radiation which disrupted the slipstream corridor, and caused us to abruptly return to normal space. The computer ejected the warp core, but the resulting feedback completely destroyed the deflector grid.” She made a few more adjustments. “In future tests, I would suggest that we adjust our sensors to warn of any anomalies regardless of type, and steer clear of them.”

“Good idea,” Janeway said shortly. She stared bleakly at the stars out the window. “Maybe I should have let Paris pilot after all.”

Seven glanced at her, startled. “No one could have avoided the anomaly without knowing about its presence beforehand,” she said slowly. “By the time the sensors detected it, it was far too late to escape damage entirely.” She paused, considering. “In truth, we were fortunate to survive. That is a testament to your piloting skills.”

Janeway glanced back at her uncertainly, clearly wondering if it was the astrometrics officer or her partner speaking. Seven returned the look, meeting the eyes squarely. Finally, the captain gave a brief nod and returned her attention to the helm. Seven was relieved to see the captain’s shoulders straighten under the red band of her uniform tunic.

Seven looked up as the lights were fully activated, and the smoke began to dissipate through the vents of the atmospheric filtration unit. “Main power has been restored.”

She moved to sit beside Janeway, feeding the data from the science and engineering stations to the helm. The impulse engines were almost fully back online, she noted as she glanced over at her partner. She felt a sudden flash of pride in Kathryn, at how quickly she had managed to return function to the engines. For someone who did not have the benefit of the technological advances of thousands of species recorded in her brain, Kathryn Janeway was still the most intelligent being Seven had ever met. Capable as well.

“Does your head hurt?” she asked quietly as she worked. “There may be something in the medikit…”

“I’m fine,” Janeway replied shortly. “I need to keep a clear mind.” She made a few more adjustments. “We have full impulse again.” She gazed through the viewport at the blackness of space, and its multitude of stars. “The question is, will it do us any good?”

Seven regarded her board. “We traveled a distance of one hundred, ninety-seven point nineteen light years.” She glanced over at Janeway to see how she took it. The elegant features appeared washed out by the reflection from the helm, giving the captain a pallid, hard expression.

“It would take Voyager weeks to catch up to us,” Janeway said flatly, running the calculations. “Assuming they start today and ran continually at warp nine, which is highly unlikely. So let’s say one or two months to be safe.”

Seven ran her own. “Without a deflector array, it is unlikely we could survive on this vessel for that period of time,” she said, though she knew she must be stating the obvious.

“Run a scan of the surrounding systems,” Janeway instructed. “We need a place to stay until they can rescue us.”

Seven did so, cross checking the astrometric data that she herself, had charted with her memories of coming through here with the Collective.

“There are no inhabited systems,” she said finally. “However, there are two uninhabited M-class planets in the G-star system closest to us. The third planet is primarily desert with a great deal of seismological activity while the fourth maintains highly agitated atmospheric conditions.”

“Earthquakes or storms,” Janeway noted, raising a brow. She glanced at Seven, and the younger woman was glad to see a bit of humor in the eyes which were now shading to a light blue-grey. “Do you have a preference, Annika?”

Seven considered the options. “Precipitation is far easier to deal with than unstable ground and lava flows,” she noted calmly. “There is more apt to be compatible food on the fourth world in the event that…” Her voice trailed off uncertainly.

“Voyager will find us,” Janeway said with utter certainty. She leaned forward until she had Seven’s gaze caught by her own. “We’ll be fine.” She keyed in the coordinates and launched a probe which would set a course back to Voyager, telling them the situation and what they planned to do. Then she initiated the impulse engines.

Things were going reasonably well until the shuttle entered the first wisps of the planet’s outer atmosphere. That was when the integrity field abruptly surrendered to the damage it had undergone, and failed completely. Without it, the shuttle began to shake itself to pieces around them, and Janeway’s response was immediate, launching an emergency beacon, darting a look at Seven as she did so.

“Get the survival packs,” she snapped, activating the transporter controls.

Seven moved quickly, retrieving two of the backpacks loaded with equipment from the compartment in the floor. She barely had time to hand one to the captain and pull one on her back herself before the transporter beam was sweeping them up, filling her vision with sparkles. There was an unusual flash of light, and Seven felt an odd sensation as she dematerialized. She had the uncomfortable feeling that there had been a power overload of some sort and she was very aware of what that could do to a transporter signal.

She materialized approximately five meters above the planet’s surface, and her first sensation was one of air rushing past her. She had a brief glimpse of trees and rock, an instant to look down at rushing waters directly below her, before plummeting into the ice-cold liquid which immediately claimed her as just another bit of flotsam on the current. Somehow, she resisted drawing breath, knowing it would be a fatal mistake. She had just been learning to swim on Voyager, and somehow, she was able to remember her teacher’s first instruction.

Whatever happens, Janeway’s voice echoed in her head, don’t panic. If you do, I can’t help you and worse, you can’t help yourself.

It was a near thing for Seven, however, as she was tumbled over and over, her body battered by rocks as she was carried along. This was completely unlike the placid pool on the holodeck where she had been taking her lessons with Kathryn, and she was unable to get her bearings, to regain any sort of control over the situation. Suddenly her face was clear of the water, and she was able to draw breath, two great shuddering inhalations of the life-giving air before being sucked under again.

The chance to breathe seemed to clear her head a little, and with difficulty, she began to thrash for the surface, knowing now where it was. The current seemed to ease a bit, and as she surfaced again, she was no longer being dashed about, though if she looked back, she could see where she had been pulled by the unchecked torrent of white water rushing through narrow granite cliffs.

She didn’t know how she had survived it, nor did she particularly care at the moment. Using all her strength, she managed to use her inexperienced crawl to maneuver her closer to the shore. A convenient log, protruding a few meters into the icy flow, provided a much-needed place to grab hold as she slammed into it, driving the air from her lungs with a whoosh. For a few moments, it was all she could do to hang on as the water tugged at her insistently, then with an extreme effort, she used her Borg-enhanced left arm to pull herself along the log until her feet finally touched the rocky bottom, and she was able to stagger out of the river, collapsing on the bank.

She lay there for a long time, and she thought she must have passed out because the sun, which had seemed so bright in the beginning had lost much of its intensity, the shadows lengthening in the bushes which grew beyond the grassy knoll above her. She noted that although her hair was dry, she was shivering uncontrollably in her soaked outfit.

Hypothermia, came the dazed thought out of the heavy fog which was clouding her mind. She could barely get herself to move, but finally she did, managing to shrug out of the pack which lay heavy on her back, pinning her to the ground. She had no idea why it hadn’t been ripped away from her while in the water, or even why it hadn’t dragged her under, drowning her, but she felt a vague sort of gratitude that neither had happened. She had scarcely enough awareness to notice the tricorder and phaser, which should have been in pockets on either side of the backpack, were gone, undoubtedly swept away by the current, but the waterproofed interior had kept the rest of the contents intact and dry. She pulled it along behind her as she crawled up onto the grassy knoll before darkness claimed her once more.

Her last thought was of Kathryn.

Picking her way through the underbrush, Captain Janeway cursed with annoyance. She hated nature. It was all well and good in parks and recreation areas, but this unchecked, untamed wilderness she had found herself in was something she had no use for. It boggled her that people actually made extensive plans to go to these sort of places, actually yearned to ‘get away from it all’. The only thing she wanted to get away from was all this … this outdoors.

She slapped at the bugs that swirled around her head, and bit off an oath as she stumbled over some rotted branches. Perhaps the couple should have tried their luck with the desert planet, she thought grouchily. At least there, there would be no bugs, no steamy forest, no clinging vegetation that caught at her, and impeded her progress. Yes, a nice flat stretch of sand would do her quite nicely right about now. If only that panel hadn’t overloaded at the last second and scattered the two transporter beams several kilometers apart.

She tried not to think about how it could have easily have separated them several hundred, or worse, several thousand, kilometers apart. She supposed she should be grateful for small favors. When she had materialized under that tree, it hadn’t taken her long to realize that she was alone, and a quick scan with her tricorder showed a clear reading from Seven’s comm badge twenty-four kilometers to the west. That had happened hours ago, and she had been following the steady signal ever since.

She stopped suddenly, teetering uncertainly as the ground before her suddenly dropped away, and she grasped at the branches around her, urgently seeking stability. Beneath her lay a natural vista of rock and white water, of a rushing torrent that thrashed and boiled its way through sharp-edged granite walls.

That would have been intelligent if she had landed down there, she chastised herself, an acid taste of fear in her mouth. Though the drop wasn’t that far, she could have easily broken a leg, or dashed her brains out against an uncaring stone.

Or fallen into that rushing torrent.

She eyed the white water warily. She doubted she would have lasted a minute in that roiling mass which rushed beneath her, its roar drowning out the rest of the sounds of the forest, the incessant buzzing of the insects, the calls of birds, even the sound of her increased respiration.

She drew out her tricorder and checked it again. Worriedly, she noted that Seven’s signal had still not changed, that it remained stationary, exactly where it had been for most of the day. She raised her eyes, checking the sun as she judging that she still had a few more hours of light left. She didn’t know why Seven wasn’t moving, or why she did not answer her hails. Though the distance the small communicators could handle on their own without linking to a vessel was limited, their two signals were well within range of each other. She hoped it was nothing more than a minor technical problem interrupting the communication.

It’s entirely possible you’re tracking down a body, her little voice offered suddenly. Or maybe just the communicator itself which has somehow become separated from Seven.

Viciously, she clamped down on that thought. If she let herself wonder about it, a whole list of troubling and frightening scenarios could explain why the signal hadn’t moved for hours. She didn’t dare consider any of them. With a determined set to her jaw, she checked her readings on the tricorder, made another triangulation with the sun, and began to work her way along the bank of the river. With any luck, she would reach the signal before dark.

She saw the blue streak against the emerald grass first, breaking into a run as she cleared the tree line and entered the small clearing. “Seven,” she shouted and felt her heart spasm when there was no response, no movement at all, from the figure.

She fell to her knees beside the motionless form, staring in horror. Seven’s head lolled bonelessly on her neck, and with her heart hammering in her ears, Janeway pressed her fingers against the long throat, remembering to breathe only when her fingertips detected the faint flutter beneath them. Seven’s skin was clammy, the long blonde hair tangled and snarled about the face which was as pale as Janeway could ever remember seeing it. A nasty bruise darkened the younger woman’s forehead over her right eye, a thin streak of blood streaking down her temple.

“Annika, can you hear me?” Janeway said urgently as she calibrated her tricorder to read her partner’s vital signs. It occurred to her suddenly that although she knew the proper readings for Humans, Vulcans and Klingons, she had no idea what the norm was for Seven. She cursed herself in a steady monotone as she worked. So much she didn’t know about her partner, things that she could have easily found out if only she’d taken the time.

You don’t have time for this, Katie, her voice scolded her. Hate yourself after we’ve helped Seven.

From what she could conclude, Seven had fallen in the water rushing by, and had somehow clawed her way out. Sheer luck, Janeway though bleakly, not bothering to look behind her at the river. She knew what Seven’s ability was when it came to the water, and even the best swimmer would have been in trouble in that. Maybe the outfit had turned out to be lucky after all. She was certainly grateful for whatever had kept the young woman alive.

But right now the suit was wet, its insulating properties keeping in the cold, and bringing Seven’s body temperature down. The chill breeze that had sprung up as the sun sank behind the forest also wasn’t helping matters. Janeway took a quick glance around, discovering two boulders a few feet away which provided a meager sort of shelter from the wind, and she carefully dragged Seven over to the lee side after checking the tricorder to see if it was safe to move her at all.

Moving swiftly and calmly, with a total economy of motion, the captain gathered up an amount of driftwood from the piles which littered the banks of the river, and cleared an area for a fire, stacking the wood in the circle of rocks and setting it ablaze with a quick blast from her phaser. As the heat reflected off the rock face of the boulders, she slipped Seven out of the clammy body suit, being as slow and as careful as she could. The multitude of bruises, scrapes and cuts, as well as one spongy dark area around the Borg’s rib cage, spreading across her back, did not please Janeway at all, and she used the bone knitter and dermal regenerator from her medikit liberally on the young woman. After cocooning Seven into the compact thermo-insulated sleeping bag which she retrieved from the Borg’s backpack, the captain shot her up with every antibiotic she had in the kit, praying to whomever would listen that the young woman was not allergic to anything.

Then, exhausted and deflated, feeling completely defeated, Janeway stripped off her dirty uniform, and crawled into the bag with Seven, wrapping herself around the still form, hoping that her body heat could somehow help warm her chilled and weakened partner.

Seven floated groggily on a sea of pain, of foggy awareness that insisted to her that something was not right. Her eyes fluttered open to see nothing but grey all around her. Grey mist, grey light, and a thin line of grey smoke rising from the grey ashes of what had been a fire. She took a breath carefully.

She ached. Every part of her, her legs, her arms, her torso, her head. There was a fine layer of moisture over her face, as it seemed to be over everything else, including the boulders looming about her, and little drops slid over the silver material of her sleeping bag, shimmering mutely on the turf around her. In fits and starts, the previous day’s events returned to her, and slowly she tried to take stock of where she was.

She could hear the rush of the river close by, its sound overpowering all others, and for the first time she noticed the warmth next to her, tucked under her chin. She moved slightly, biting off an involuntary groan as she slid her arms around the source of that warmth, pulling it to her body, wanting it to drive away all the chill permeating her.

“Annika,” Janeway whispered, waking finally as she was pressed against Seven’s form.

Seven didn’t know how the captain had found her or where they were now. It was simply enough that they were together.

“I am not functioning properly,” Seven said, or tried to say, her voice a hoarse croak that both startled and dismayed her.

“I know, sweetheart,” Janeway soothed her, stroking her forehead gently. “Just be still. You’ve had quite the ordeal.”

“It hurts,” Seven informed her pitifully, feeling wretched, though not especially afraid since Kathryn was now there.

“Somewhere in particular?” Janeway asked anxiously.

“All over,” Seven replied. “Everywhere.”

Janeway nodded slightly, eyes dark with concern. “You were pretty beaten up,” she said. “You fell in the river?”

“I materialized over it,” Seven mumbled.

Janeway closed her eyes briefly at that, and Seven knew she was upset. “The feedback must have disrupted the safety protocol,” the captain said in an angry tone, though Seven could not figure out why the captain was so angry. It had been an unfortunate coincidence that the overload had occurred at that second of transport, nothing more and certainly no one’s fault.

Seven also knew it could have been much worse. The safety protocol is what prevented one from materializing in solid rock, or another person … or ten feet over a raging river. She could only imagine what could have happened to her or to Kathryn in other, much worse circumstances.

She shivered, and Janeway hugged her tightly.

“I am cold,” Seven complained. “I do not get cold.”

“Your body temperature was pretty low by the time I found you,” Janeway said in a worried tone. “Stay here.”

She slipped out of the bag, leaving Seven dismayed and disgruntled at losing the only warm thing she had. The captain piled more driftwood onto the embers of the fire, tickled them into a flame with a short burst from her phaser, and then quickly returned to the sleeping bag. Seven shivered again as the captain’s now cooled body slid in next to her, but between the fire and Janeway placing herself behind Seven, the Borg soon felt herself warming slightly.

From the backpack lying on the turf nearby, Janeway dug out some emergency ration bars. “I want you to eat this,” she ordered, peeling off the foil, and offering Seven the rather dry, tan-colored square. “It will give your body energy.”

Seven eyed it without any enthusiasm whatsoever, but the lace of command in Janeway’s voice was clear so she took it unhappily. She began to gnaw on the flaky bar, and managed to bite off a small portion of it. Janeway gave her some water from a canteen which helped marginally to wash it down. Miserably, Seven finished it, then glanced at the captain over her shoulder. Janeway was just finishing her own ration, taking a long drink of water, before placing the leftover foil and the canteen carefully into the pack, not wasting anything. Seven glanced around and saw her own pack, looking considerably more battered, lying a few feet away.

“This is inefficient,” Seven noted. “We will be unable to survive like this for long.”

“I know,” the captain replied, snuggling against Seven once more, wrapping her arms around the Borg and trying to cover as much of her body surface as possible with her own. “We’re going to have to move, find better shelter, a food source. We’re too close to the river here.”

Seven took a breath, knowing the captain was as informed as to proper survival techniques as she was … probably even more so since the captain’s knowledge came firsthand from the Academy, and Seven knew only what she had absorbed from the Collective’s assimilation of Starfleet officers. Survival skills in the wilderness had not been a particularly relevant sort of data for the Borg to retain with any great detail.

“Now?” she asked.

“No,” Janeway said. “I want you to rest some more. It’ll do us no good to move before you’re able.”

“Oh,” Seven said faintly, and relaxed, feeling the twinges in her muscles subside from where she had tensed them in preparation of getting up. She huddled within Janeway’s embrace, wishing for the first time that she was smaller, that she could be surrounded by Kathryn the way she could surround her when positions were reversed. She also found she kept dozing off, something she rarely did, and she knew that she was continuing to suffer some damage from her ordeal.

“Do you know what is wrong with me?” she asked faintly.

Janeway, who must have been dozing herself, jerked slightly. “You have a concussion,” she said, rising up so that her mouth was next to Seven’s ear. “You must have struck your head on something. There’s no crack in your skull, and no indication of the concussion being too severe, but you may be fuzzy for awhile.” She rubbed Seven’s back gently, soothingly. “You were very lucky.”

Seven blinked. “I do not feel particularly lucky,” she pointed out.

She felt Janeway pull her closer. “Oh darling, we were both so very lucky,” Janeway said huskily and Seven realized that the captain had been very frightened indeed for her.

“I thought you did not believe in luck,” Seven noted, curiously.

“I’m beginning to,” Janeway said reverently.

Moving slowly, gingerly, Seven rolled over so that she was facing the captain, wanting to be able to see her face. She was feeling much warmer now, and a little less sore. Janeway raised her hand, brushing her fingers over Seven’s face and forehead.

“Now you’re starting to feel a little hot,” Janeway noted worriedly. “You may have a fever.”

Seven wondered what a fever was. She studied the captain intently. Janeway’s face was dirty, her hair tangled, snarled about the smudged cheeks, and Seven saw some bits of vegetation in it. She reached up and plucked the tiny twigs and leaves from the auburn locks.

“How are you?” Seven asked intently.

“A lot better than when I was looking for you,” Janeway admitted. She leaned closer and pressed her lips to Seven’s forehead. “You scared me, love.”

Seven felt a warm glow come over her, not because she had frightened the captain, but because Kathryn cared so much. “I am sorry,” she replied, though she wasn’t sure exactly why she was apologizing.

“I’m just glad you’re safe,” Janeway said and hugged her.

Seven sighed a bit and relaxed into the embrace, snuggling against her partner. The difference in their size usually had Janeway in the position of being held, of being cradled. Seven decided that the reverse worked quite nicely as well, and she slid down in the bag a little so that Janeway could hold her head against her chest, stroking the long blonde hair comfortingly. Seven felt safe and secure within these arms, warmed within by the thought of her partner being there, cuddling her, protecting her, sheltering her from the threatening wilderness around them.

Blissfully she closed her eyes and fell asleep, knowing nothing could happen to her while Kathryn was there. An illogical belief, but one she persisted in having nonetheless.

Janeway kissed Seven’s forehead, alarmed at the dry heat she felt beneath her lips. Seven definitely had a fever and though the young woman was sleeping now, it was restless, body and face twitching on occasion, eyes fluttering. Every so often, she would jerk half awake, sigh and snuggle closer to the captain, hugging her tightly as if for protection. They were going to have to remain right where they were for the time being, Janeway knew, at least until Seven’s fever broke.

She lay with Seven a little while longer, then, as the woman seemed to fall into a deeper sleep, she slipped from the bedroll and quickly got dressed. She built up the fire again, then dug through her backpack until she found the medikit. Once more she injected Seven with another series of antibiotics, dismayed when her partner barely stirred at the hiss, and pulled out her own sleeping bag which she tossed over Seven for additional warmth.

A quick glance at the sky revealed that the mist was clearing, but Janeway knew that the planet’s atmospheric conditions were such that she should expect regular periods of rain. Indeed, the horizon was starting to fill with thin dark clouds, and she had an unpleasant feeling that it wouldn’t be long before they were dumping their contents on them. She had to make arrangements before that happened.

She checked Seven once more, then moved a short distance into the forest. She selected some suitable branches, narrowing the dispersal pattern of the phaser to a thin beam which she used to cut and shape them. She dragged them back to the grassy knoll, selecting a higher and drier spot a few yards away from where Seven was lying. Using the small camp shovel from her pack, as well as her hands, she dug two holes and drove the stakes deep into the ground about eight feet apart. They were forked at the top, and she placed another thick branch across them. Using other branches, with assorted bushes, and moss, she began to construct a rough lean-to on the lee side of a small rise which would help protect it from the wind.

Camping was not one of Janeway’s favorite pursuits, and she could tell that the structure she was building was not as solid as a more skilled individual could make it. Chakotay, she knew from experience, could build an entire log cabin in record time, one of his many skills at being an Indian Scout on his home world. Still, she had been trained extensively by Starfleet in all survival techniques, and if it wasn’t elegant looking, then at least she knew how to make her shelter watertight.

Her Starfleet uniform, she discovered, was not really designed for such work, and she had to discard both the tunic and the sweater as she labored in the warm morning sun, keeping only the full bra which was half shirt. Her trousers were hot, but they protected her legs against the thorny underbrush, and while the short boots were not the best for hiking, they were sturdy and waterproof, a good thing in this forest. She cut some strips of cloth from her sweater, and one of them was wrapped around her head, keeping her hair back, and soaking up the sweat before it dripped into her eyes, unaware that it gave her a rakish appearance as she trudged through the meadow.

At mid-day, she checked on Seven, woke her, made her eat a little and drink, then went back to work as the Borg fell asleep once more. Janeway knew the sleeping bag would keep her partner warm and dry while the weather held, and the tricorder positioned nearby was set to not only monitor Seven’s bio-readings for deviations, but also to scan for dangerous lifeforms in the vicinity. Should either occur, it would give off a high pitched sound which would warn the captain.

Janeway knew that as far as provisions went, they weren’t bad off at all, having managed to grab the two emergency survival packs. They each contained thirty more of the tiny energy bars each, ten days worth of food … a month’s worth if they restricted themselves to one a day, and didn’t move around much. Using parts of them to supplement a native diet was a better course of action, and one Janeway was planning on instead. The readings had shown this to be an M-class planet where they could probably expect compatible organics.

The packs also provided all they would need to acquire that foodstuff, from fishing line, hooks and lures, sharp-edged knives which could make even bigger tools, to rolls of thin wire for snares. They also had two of the sleeping bags, canteens, cooking utensils, medikits, rope, and other assorted odds and ends the Starfleet technicians thought might come in handy in such a situation. There were even two small toolkits which were designed to work on fine equipment such as tricorders and communicators. They only had the one phaser and tricorder left of course, but all things being equal, Janeway realized how well off they were.

Certainly she had been in far more dire circumstances with far less to work with. The time she and her entire crew were marooned on a desert planet by Seska and the Kazon came to mind. They had been allowed no equipment at all and yet, they had still managed to get through. Compared to that, Seven and she possessed an embarrassment of riches.

However, Janeway also knew that the couple needed to find a more suitable place to set up a base camp. She was hoping for some kind of natural formation that could protect them from the elements, with clean, drinkable running water close by and plenty of dry firewood. She wondered what she would probably end up settling for.

Another lean-to most likely, she thought glumly as she regarded her efforts. Still, she had spent a great deal of time lacing the branches together, and stuffing the chinks with moss. A thick layer of ferns covered the ground beneath the angled shelter, providing a soft cushion over the hard, heat-sucking soil. With any luck, the construct, as rough as it looked, would serve to keep them both relatively warm and dry.

She noted sourly that ‘luck’ was something she was starting to depend on, and resolved to go back to relying only on herself. She returned to where Seven lay and knelt beside her, stroking her cheek lightly. It was still hot and she checked the tricorder worriedly. According to it, the fever wasn’t as bad as she thought, and Seven stirred at her touch, her lids fluttering open. Her eyes were bright and just slightly unfocused.

“Kathryn?”

“I’m here, darling,” Janeway said softly. “I’m going to move you now. I want you to stay still while I do, all right?”

“I will comply,” Seven agreed.

Taking a deep breath, Janeway grabbed the ends of the sleeping bag and dragged Seven over to the lean-to, sliding her under the overhang so that she was as far to the back as possible. Then she started a new fire in front of the open side, the heat reflecting into the shelter while the smoke was blown away by the rising breeze as the sun set, bringing darkness to their little clearing. She made sure the other fire was completely out, then joined Seven beneath the shelter, not a moment too soon as rain began to pelt down, gently at first, then settling to a steady, driving downpour.

She dug out one of the canteens and woke Seven again, making her drink copiously. Fortunately the tricorder readings revealed that this was a pristine wilderness, the river nearby clean and clear, completely safe to drink so keeping the canteens full wasn’t a problem. Janeway also made sure they both ate, digging out more ration bars. The emergency survival rations were fairly tasteless with the consistency of cardboard, but they contained all the nutrients and minerals a human required. Surviving took energy and their bodies required a full intake of nutrition. Janeway refused to stint on that, especially now, where both were working hard, the captain with her construction, and Seven in fighting off her fever.

Afterward, Janeway sat huddled beneath the shelter, staring morosely out at the darkness and the rain falling steadily down, worrying about her ship, about what had happened during the shuttle mission and how she would keep them alive for the next few months until Voyager rescued them. Assuming that between here and there, the ship did not run into any delays or worse, something that could destroy it. It did not even particularly cheer her up to see her shelter remained solid against the rain and wind, the water draining off to flow away from their makeshift camp site.

This is the last time Katie, her little voice said pragmatically. You have to leave the adventuring to those who aren’t responsible for a ship. Or give command up to Chakotay completely. This isn’t fair to him, or to your crew. You knew what was expected of you when you signed on as captain. No more little jaunts no matter how much you enjoy getting away once in awhile.

“Kathryn, will you hold me?” Seven said weakly, breaking into the captain’s depressing train of thought. “I am cold.”

Frowning, Janeway quickly placed her hand on her partner’s forehead, relieved that the skin was indeed cool, the fever broken. She shot a look out at the rain and decided she certainly didn’t have anything better to do at the moment than grant Seven’s request. She stripped down to her undergarments and slipped into the sleeping bag with the blond, wrapping her arms around her and pulling the woman’s head down on her shoulder.

“Is this better?” she asked gently.

“Yes,” Seven said gratefully as she snuggled close. “Much better.”

Despite herself, Janeway felt her own spirits rising and she cuddled Seven lovingly, resting her chin on the top of the blonde head. “I’m glad,” she said, delighting in the warm body against her.

“Something smells unusual,” Seven noted after awhile.

Janeway sighed. “I believe that’s me, darling,” she said dryly.

Seven raised an eyebrow. “Indeed?” she said.

“This is what happens when Humans don’t have a chance to bath or shower for a day or so,” Janeway explained, suddenly aware that she was quite musky at the moment, something that appalled her normally fastidious nature. “Especially when we’re dirty and working hard. The natural body odor tends to take over in that case.”

Seven shifted slightly and Janeway was startled as her partner began to sniff over her chest and shoulders. “There’s not much I can do about it right now,” the captain warned, a bit disgruntled. “Not unless you’d like me to take a shower in the rain.”

“No,” Seven remarked. “I like how you smell. It is very much … you.”

Janeway was stymied, somewhat at a loss for words. “That’s some compliment,” she said finally.

Seven snuggled closer. “It was not intended as a compliment,” she said evenly. “It is merely the truth.” She paused. “Does my odor disturb you?”

Truthfully, Janeway hadn’t noticed and obligingly she sniffed. Seven was far less odorous than the captain, probably because she didn’t perspire at all, one of her implants looking after that particular function, nor had she spent the last two days tramping through a forest and building a lean-to.

“You smell fine,” she told her honestly.

Seven nodded briefly and hugged her.

“I feel better now,” she said, nuzzling Janeway’s hair.

“Good,” Janeway said softly. “But I want you to rest, now. We might have to hike in the morning if this rain continues. I don’t know if this is a flood plain, but I wouldn’t want to find out the hard way.”

“Very well,” Seven allowed. She hesitated, then relaxed. “I am tired,” she admitted.

“So am I,” Janeway agreed, yawning widely.

She closed her eyes and before long, sleep overtook her.

“I want to continue to work our way downstream,” Janeway said, glancing keenly toward the horizon. Those were no mere rain clouds appearing there, she knew. They were big and black, seeming to boil with unleased power, and even at that distance, she could catch the vague flickers that indicated lightning. There was a trace of ozone in the air, and that peculiar stillness that heralded the approach of a big storm cell.

Seven nodded, and adjusted the pack on her back as she looked expectantly at the captain. Janeway resisted the urge to sigh, aware of the scrutiny. Seven was up and moving, but it was still somewhat labored. However, she was able to hike at a reasonable pace and they were covering a lot of ground, though where they were going was anyone’s guess. With any luck … Janeway tasted the word ruefully … today they might find a permanent place to shelter, something that had remained stubbornly elusive the past few days, which had seen them spending the rainy nights under hastily constructed lean-tos.

The captain made sure the fire was completely dead and buried, then started off, setting a slow pace so that Seven could keep up. She kept a close eye on her partner, monitoring her condition, not wanting to push her at all.

Fortunately, Janeway considered, Seven might even be having an easier time of it now that her bodysuit had been allowed to dry out completely. The blue-grey outfit was designed as a protective garment which worked with the Borg’s remaining implants, constantly analyzing Seven’s biorhythms. When it had suddenly been immersed, the ice cold water had gotten between Seven’s skin and the sensors, confusing the readings and fooling the suit into maintaining the underlying temperature, one several degrees below what Seven should be. Now, however, it was keeping her warm or cool as she required, and the younger woman seemed to be getting stronger as the day progressed. They had knocked off the heels the Doctor kept insisting on incorporating into the Borg’s outfits, and the flat soles were much easier for Seven to navigate the rugged terrain.

The rush of the river they were following was a constant companion, and though the going was easier next to the water than it was going through the woods, it was hard to communicate over the roar. For the most part, they hiked in silence, Janeway forging the path, Seven following obediently, picking her way over the uneven ground gingerly.

They hadn’t found anything suitable by the end of the morning, and Janeway called a halt for lunch. They perched on some rocks overlooking the water, and ate their ration bars. The Borg was staring at the water as she finished the last crumbs of her meal.

“Do you think there are fish in there?” she asked loudly over the sound of the river.

“Possibly,” Janeway allowed. “It would be hard to catch them in that, however, because the current’s so fast. I’m hoping it’ll level out further down.”

Seven nodded thoughtfully. Janeway had taught Seven to fish on an away mission a few months earlier, and the young woman had been quite taken with the concept. Though when she had tried to recreate the experience in the holodeck, she had expressed dissatisfaction with the simulation, and Janeway knew Seven was hoping to be able to try it for real here. The captain was certainly not adverse to the idea. It might not simply be a matter of Seven being allowed to try her hobby again, it might be the only way the couple could survive while waiting for Voyager. The supply of ration bars was steadily being depleted.

The captain spared a moment to wonder about little Jake and how he was faring. She knew that someone in the crew would take over his care, but it still gave her a pang. Would he remember them when they finally got back? In any event, she thought unhappily, it fell into the category of something she could do absolutely nothing about, and with an effort, she pushed him to the back of her mind, concentrating on the matter at hand as she indicated to Seven that it was time to start moving.

It was mid-afternoon when the thick forest finally gave way to a small valley. The two Voyager crewmates stopped on the crest of a ridge to look down over emerald meadows bordering the river which widened and shallowed, winding its way silver and blue through the waving grasses, its roar subsiding to a more sedate burbling over smooth stones.

Janeway wasn’t much for scenery that didn’t include nebulas or stars, but she allowed that this was quite a lovely sight indeed. Her eyes traced the cliff that edged one side of the valley, and picked out some promising looking openings in the rockface. Possibly caves of sorts, just the thing to keep them high and dry, if a suitable one could be found. Finding this boded well for their continued well being, and she looked worriedly up at the sky. Janeway sensed the electric quiet that usually preceded a violent thunderstorm, a familiar experience from growing up in Indiana. The clouds were now looming overhead, and the sun had long since disappeared.

She glanced over at Seven who was looking out over the valley with shining eyes.

“It is beautiful,” the Borg said softly.

Janeway grinned wryly. “It’ll do,” she replied. Unlike the captain, Seven found aesthetic pleasure in this type of planetary scenery, unusual since she had been born and raised in space. Or maybe that was why. “Come on,” she ordered gently.

Janeway led the way down into the valley, and across the meadows to the rock face which seemed riddled with caverns. Quickly they explored the area, finding several openings, some of which disappeared into darkness, a cold, dank air wafting up from them. Those Janeway avoided, as she did anything that looked like it had been inhabited, and might still be. At the far end of the valley, they finally found a cavity in the rock which was sheltered on all sides with only a narrow passage to grant them entrance. The floor was flat rock covered in sand, while the ceiling was high enough for both to stand upright with room to spare. It was about five meters long and three meters wide, while cracks near the ceiling provided natural ventilation for a fire. According to the tricorder, nothing was inside or had been for quite some time.

It was perfect, and Janeway couldn’t have asked for a better location if she had tried. The river was close by, but below them, the cave situated on a ridge far above any flood line that she could see. Janeway left Seven to set up a base camp in the cave while she made several trips into the nearby forest, gathering as much brush and dry wood as she could, wanting to have plenty before the storm hit.

Heavy drops were beginning to hit the ground as she made her final trip, and a stiff wind pushed her the last few meters toward the opening. Inside, Seven had started a fire, and had laid out their bedding over a pile of ferns, which Janeway had gathered on her first trip. A flash of lightning illuminated the cave for a second, making everything stand out in sharp detail, and startled, Janeway dropped her armload of wood, turning back to the opening.

It was pouring, the rain coming down in a steady cascade while the wind whipped it up into solid sheets. Again, Janeway felt immensely grateful for whatever seemed to be looking out for them. She would hate to be caught in that and, what it would have done to the still, somewhat fragile Seven, wouldn’t have been any good at all.

Janeway put some of the brush over the cave entrance to shut out the noise and the damp blowing in, content that the way it was situated would keep the worst of the weather out. She gave her obstruction a final tug to make sure it would stay, then moved deeper into the cave, toward where Seven had set up camp.

She noticed that the young Borg was huddled next to the fire, and she retrieved one of the sleeping bags, bringing it over to drape around Seven, and herself as well as she sat next to the slumped form.

“How do you feel?” she asked gently, sliding her arm around the slender waist.

“I am tired,” Seven admitted. “I am also hungry .. and I smell bad. I wish we had a bathtub.”

Janeway smiled wearily in agreement, pulling off her headband, and trying not to get too strong a whiff of herself. “I know what you mean,” she said. “Believe it or not, however, we’re a hundred percent better off now than we were this morning.”

“I understand,” Seven said quietly. She glanced at Janeway. “How are you?”

The captain leaned against her gently. “I’m doing all right,” she said. “Though I would love to have anything but a ration bar for dinner. Yet, that’s what we’re going to do: eat our rations, go to bed, and set about improving our lot even more in the morning.”

“I think we shall be able to,” Seven said hopefully.

Janeway favored her with a smile, and dug out two more bars. They ate quietly, and afterward, Janeway went over their supplies again. The supply of rations was severely dented, but the rest was intact. Discounting any unforeseen circumstances, the captain decided, they should be able to get by quite handily now that they had a permanent shelter. Satisfied, Janeway gathered up the supplies, re-packed them, and began to strip off her clothes. Seven immediately straightened, regarding her with a renewed interest, and Janeway was forced to smile.

“You are incorrigible,” she said, eyeing the blonde woman fondly. “We’re both filthy, we reek to high heaven, and I’m absolutely exhausted.”

“We can still sleep together, can’t we?” Seven asked in such a wistful tone that Janeway laughed.

“We do have to conserve heat,” Janeway allowed dryly.

Seven nodded and peeled off her own outfit. They spread out their clothing to air, and crawled into a single sleeping bag together, using the second for more cushioning beneath. Janeway wrapped herself around Seven and relaxed for the first time since they had materialized on the planet.

“Good night, Kathryn,” Seven said softly.

Janeway heard the weariness in her voice, and she hugged her partner gently. “Good night darling,” she said. “Sleep well.”

With the sound of the storm raging impotently outside their door, they feel asleep, curled up in each other’s arms.

When Seven awoke, she was alone. Disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings, she sat up abruptly, looking around for Kathryn. She could find no trace of her in the cave which was well illuminated by the sunlight pouring in from the outside. Seven noticed that the captain’s uniform and pack were gone, and frowning, she got up, padding barefoot to the cave opening. Her eyebrow arched as she gazed down toward the river, and saw the small, undeniably Human figure kneeling on the bank, doing something in the water.

Quickly Seven dressed in her biometric outfit, which felt unnaturally stiff from continued wear, and left the cave, quietly picking her way down the rocky ridge to the meadow below. The long grass swished around her legs as she strode toward the water, and butterflies, colorful against the green, rose before her. The storm had blown over, and the air was remarkable clean, almost sweet in its renewal as the rising sun sparkled off the dew, giving the appearance of bright gems trapped in the grass. As the Borg drew nearer to where the captain was crouching, she was struck by two things immediately.

One, the captain was naked, which was unusual in itself when considering she had clearly taken her uniform with her. That was draped over a nearby bush along with her undergarments, drying in the early morning sun. Two, the large tawny form on the opposite bank which couched menacingly, emerald eyes pinned on the captain who returned the stare unwaveringly, frozen under its scrutiny.

Seven considered this interesting tableau for a few seconds. She noted the phaser was still in its holster on the side of the pack next to the captain’s right heel, and that Janeway was inching her hand toward it with agonizing slowness. The way the animal was tensing however, indicated she really didn’t have time to acquire it before it sprang. The prominent claws on each foot, the heavy musculature of the animal’s body, and the generous fangs displayed beneath the top lip drawn back in a feral snarl told Seven that should it jump on Kathryn, the captain would find herself very much on the wrong end of such an encounter.

Neither had noticed her approach and stealthily, Seven reached down, scooping up a convenient stick. Brandishing it wildly, she rushed forward, shouting at the top of her lungs. Startled by the piercing noise and the much larger form, as well as the stick which thudded soundly into its ribs, directed by Borg-enhanced strength, the animal immediately gave the whole thing up as a bad deal, turned tail, and bounded quickly for the woods.

Janeway was also severely startled by Seven’s abrupt appearance, pitching forward into the water with a healthy splash. She came up sputtering and thrashing, finally finding her footing on the pebbled bottom.

“Are you all right, Captain?” Seven asked formally from where she stood on the bank, hands linked behind her back, regarding her partner with a certain amount of amusement which she assiduously hid.

Janeway wiped the water from her eyes, standing waist deep in the clear water as she glared at her partner. “What did you think you were doing?” she said.

Seven blinked. “Driving away a predator,” she responded mildly. She tilted her head and prodded delicately with the toe of her boot at the phaser which had never gotten out of its pocket. “What were you doing?”

The captain scowled, then looked down, having the grace to look embarrassed. “Forgetting a good part of my training,” she admitted. “I came down to wash out my uniform, and hopefully take a bath. I should have remembered that animals tend to drink at dusk and dawn. I also didn’t keep the phaser handy, which was foolish. The main rule to survival on an unknown planet is that we’re not predators, we’re prey, and we have to think like prey all the time. Forgetting that, even for a minute, almost got me killed.” She shook her head with a deep disgust. “That’s the first predator we’ve seen, and it makes me realize we’ve been getting by with good luck and little sense. If I could, I’d put myself on report.”

“Indeed,” Seven said mildly. Obviously the captain was being much harder on herself than anything Seven could do or say about the situation at this moment. She took a breath and tried not to be affected by the sight of the very delectable display before her, of the captain’s compact body glistening from the water, her hair dark and slicked back around the elegant features. “How is the water?” she asked, deliberately changing the subject.

Janeway looked down ruefully. “Not bad,” she admitted. “A little cooler than I’d like but I really wanted to feel clean again.”

Seven reached down and scooped up the phaser as well as the tricorder from the pack pockets.

“I shall keep watch while you finish your … bath,” she said.

Janeway hesitated, and then seemed to realize that since she was already in, she might as well finish the job. She reached onto the bank and gathered the accessories she needed, soap and shampoo, all completely biodegradable to keep from interfering with the environment; tiny, precious amounts contained in small packets. As she preceded to scrub herself down, Seven took up a vantage point on a nearby rock, keeping a keen eye on their surroundings, and periodically checking the tricorder to make sure nothing approached her captain, either overland or under the water. She did notice the presence of several simple lifesigns darting about in the river, and identified them as fish. She wondered if they would be suitable for eating.

Finally, Janeway exited the water, rising from the surface like some mythical Human goddess. Seven was hard pressed to keep her eyes away from the spectacle, and on the task at hand. When she finally allowed herself to glance back, the captain had donned her still damp undergarments, tight briefs that came to mid-thigh, and the Starfleet issued bra which was half-shirt, giving her the appearance of an athlete about to work out. After choosing a flat boulder to recline on, Janeway imperiously held out her hand for the equipment.

“Your turn,” she said.

Bemused, Seven handed her the phaser and the tricorder before stripping off her outfit. Though the bodysuit had originally boasted the ability to dissolve dirt and dead skin cells while she wore it, keeping her continually clean, she suspected that its immersion had damaged that function somewhat. There was no question that a rather ripe aroma rising from both it and her body. Since that was the case, she immersed the outfit in order to clean it, then hung the garment on the bush alongside the Starfleet uniform. She shivered as she gingerly entered the cool water, not going in too far as she washed quickly but thoroughly before scrambling out. There was a part of her that was still uneasy in the water, even though the current here was quite gentle. Janeway made room for her on the boulder, and they sat together in the morning sun, warming themselves as their outfits dried.

“This feels a lot better,” Janeway said, rather lazily as she looked out over the water and the meadows, glancing up at the blue sky above her head, the azure dotted with fluffy white clouds

“Indeed,” Seven queried. She was sitting naked on the rock, knees drawn up, arms wrapped around them, acutely aware of the captain’s proximity, but knowing that they had to remain alert to their surroundings as that morning had already proved. The sun was very warm on her back, and she felt Janeway urge her around.

“Careful,” the captain warned her. “You don’t want to burn. Stay still.”

Immediately, Seven felt her partner begin to spread some cool ointment on her back, and she raised an eyebrow. “Kathryn?”

“It’s sun screen, darling,” the captain told her. “You’re very fair-skinned and running around naked is not a good thing to be doing. I wonder if I can adapt my tunic for you as a second outfit? Otherwise, you’re not going to be able to enjoy our vacation at all.”

“‘Vacation’?” Seven echoed curiously.

“A period of time when one leaves behind their career and goes someplace different to relax,” Janeway explained. “Think about it, Annika. No ship to run, no crew to need us, no ongoing mission or duties. Just the two of us with one or two months of no real responsibilities beyond surviving the elements and the wildlife. People actually pay latinum for this sort of thing in the Alpha Quadrant.”

Seven regarded her thoughtfully over her shoulder. “You have not been able to do this for some time,” she noted quietly. “Have a ‘vacation’, I mean.”

Janeway shook her head, leaning over to kiss Seven’s shoulderblade gently. Seven could smell the familiar clean fragrance of the smaller woman, so uniquely Kathryn’s own, renewed and fresh.

“Not for five years,” the captain admitted, sighing wistfully.

“B’Elanna would say that ‘it’s an ill wind…’,” Seven said. “I am not sure what that means exactly, but I think it would apply here.”

“It would,” Janeway answered with a smile. She took another deep breath, then finished spreading the sunscreen over Seven before hopping off the rock. “Let’s get our clothes and go back to the cave. After breakfast, we’ll spend the rest of the day fishing for tonight’s dinner.”

While Seven assembled the needed equipment at her instructions, Janeway took a knife and went to some bushes, a growth which resembled Terran alders. She cut a flexible but strong branch about two fingers in diameter, stripped off the leaves and twigs, and brought it back to where Seven was waiting impatiently. She smiled as she secured one end of some fishing line around it, and fixed a hook and weight to the other. Then she overturned a couple of nearby rocks, pouncing on the lifeforms she turned up and impaling the most wormlike one on the hook.

“Bait,” she explained as Seven looked confused. “Works better than lures, sometime. Unlike the lures Starfleet provides, these are replaceable should the fish slip the hook.”

Seven nodded and accepted the makeshift fishing rod gravely. Janeway found a likely spot near a large tree where a second tree trunk had collapsed, wedging itself into the bank, the greater part of it extending into the water.

“Put it there,” Janeway instructed quietly. “In the shadows beneath that tree. This is not like casting Seven. You simply drop the line in and wait for a bite. When you do get it, there’ll be no reel to help you pull it out. It’s all muscle. Be careful you don’t hook into any debris.”

“I understand,” Seven responded.

She sat down on the log, and proceeded to carry out Janeway’s instructions. The captain made herself comfortable next to her on the grassy bank, and set the tricorder to scan whatever the young woman might pull out. It took only a short time before Seven got a bite, and she stood up abruptly, yanking the fish out of the water with great excitement, almost flinging it across the valley in her enthusiasm. Janeway had to bite her lip when she saw it, barely four inches long, and according to the tricorder, more bones than flesh.

“It’s no good, darling, I’m sorry,” Janeway told her gently. Seven’s face fell, looking so woebegone that Janeway was compelled to kiss her comfortingly. “Try again,” she urged.

Encouraged, Seven did so, then again and again, each time pulling out something that was either too small or not compatible with Human digestive systems, growing progressively less enthused as time went on, casting dark looks in Janeway’s direction as if suspecting the captain was being far too picky. Finally, she managed to hook a decent sized fish that resembled a cross between a rainbow trout and a small-mouthed bass. Janeway promptly rewarded her with another kiss.

“Catch me two more,” she ordered before going downstream to clean this one. She was quite aware of Seven’s scowl, and she tried not to grin as she knelt by the water, using her knife to gut it. However, she realized she should have known better when she had barely finished cleaning the first before two more were unceremoniously dumped next to her.

“Let’s hear it for Borg ingenuity,” she complimented, noting that the additions were even bigger and plumper than the original. She looked up to see Seven regarding the blood and guts floating down river with a slightly queasy expression.

“Are we going to eat these?” Seven asked faintly, face pale.

Janeway’s lips twitched, but she did not smile. “Darling, we don’t have the luxury of throwing them back,” she said gently. “Not in this case.” She handed the tricorder to Seven. “While I clean these, see what you can find for other suitable organics. But don’t go out of earshot.”

“I will comply,” Seven agreed, seeming glad to get away from the sight of fish offal.

Janeway couldn’t blame her. This was not one of her favorite jobs either, and as a Terran in this day and age where replicators and synthesizers abounded, it was no longer considered a particularly moral thing to consume other lifeforms. Eating real meat, red or white, was considered quite the cultural faux pas. However, the Starfleet Survival Course taught its students that, when it came to staying alive without technology, 24th century ideals did not always apply. She and Seven were going to eat these fish because the alternative was to starve, and that was simply not acceptable.

If she happened to enjoy the taste, well … no one was perfect. Not even Starfleet captains.

As it turned out, they both enjoyed dinner tremendously. Seven had found mushrooms and potato-like tubers growing throughout the valley which, when roasted with the fish, provided a more than respectable bounty. By adding herbs the young woman had discovered growing by the river, the tender white flesh of the fish covered in sautéed mushrooms, the golden skinned vegetables along with fat, purple-skinned berries for dessert made the meal one of the best Janeway had ever tasted.

Fed, clean, and now cozily tucked away with a crackling fire as another storm which had blown up during dinner, raged outside, Janeway decided that she was actually enjoying being marooned on this planet. She lounged back on the bedroll, pleasantly stuffed as Seven perused a padd containing the Starfleet Survival manual which had thoughtfully been tucked away at the bottom of the packs, reading intently by the light of the fire.

Janeway stretched languorously, and regarded Seven through half-closed eyes. The Borg was naked again, her biometric outfit hanging up while she wrapped a sleeping bag around her for warmth. Her hair was down, spilling gloriously about her narrow features like the finest of gold in the firelight, the metallic eyepiece and cheek star glinting mutely in the flickering flames, her eyes narrowed thoughtfully as she went over the method for building a canoe from native materials.

The captain felt desire rise intoxicating and delightfully strong within her. She shivered from the intensity of it, allowing it to skitter along her spine like a living thing. Perhaps all this primitive living was heightening her sensuality, her need, and she felt her lips part in a grin that was not so much amused as it was feral.

“Annika,” she said softly, huskily, caressing the name with her voice.

Seven stiffened, glancing over her shoulder at the captain with wide eyes, pupils expanding until they seemed to fill the pale blue with dark intent. “Yes, Kathryn,” she responded, gaze locked on her partner, caught by a connection so strong it was almost visible.

“Come here,” Janeway demanded quietly.

Seven did not comply, however. Instead, she raked the captain with a measuring look, starting at the top of her head and sliding palpably down the entire length of Janeway’s body, then just as slowly rising to once more meet Janeway’s eyes, reminding her that they were equal within the relationship, both wanting and needing together, both commanding and surrendering to this love that bound them.

Never had Janeway felt that bond more strongly than she did this second, this physical need that reached out from them to ensnare the other with its power.

“Please,” she added delicately, feeling the thrill go through her that she was required to ask of this woman as often as she demanded.

Carefully, Seven put down the padd and uncoiled from her seat, her six feet of solid, blond Borgness seeming even bigger in the firelight, the sleeping bag falling away and leaving her golden in the firelight. Janeway caught her breath, every sense, every nerve ending acutely aware, infinitely sensitive as Seven came to her. She was, at once, helpless before the approaching woman, and completely in command of her at the same time. It was confusing, exciting, and without question, almost unbearably arousing.

Seven crawled onto the bedroll, hovering over the captain, crouched predatorily above Janeway much as the animal had that morning, not touching her yet still capturing her in that intent gaze, devouring her heart with her eyes. The lips parted and Janeway watched the pink tip of Seven’s tongue come out to moisten the top one slowly, then ran languidly over the full bottom one. Swallowing hard, the captain felt the heat radiating from that body that had yet to touch her.

Moving very slowly, Janeway ran her fingertips up the arms braced on either side of her, sliding gentle over the smooth-skinned muscles that were tensed fully to hold the Borg up. She traced the line of skin and bone, the metallic fibers and starburst implants embedded in the smooth flesh, moving over the narrow shoulders, then down Seven’s chest, stroking the smooth skin lightly.

She’s so strong, the thought whispered along Janeway’s mind. So powerful yet so slender at the same time. Such a contradiction.

Carefully, Seven hooked her fingers under the bottom of the captain’s top, tugging upward and Janeway arched to allow the Borg to pull it up over her shoulders and head, off her arms before dropping it gently to the ground beside their bedroll. Then, Seven shifted her weight onto her knees, reaching down to slide her hands beneath the waistband of Janeway’s pants, pushing them down until the captain could kick them off, until she lay free and naked beneath her.

“Kiss me,” Janeway requested, both order and plea.

Seven smiled, the bright edge of teeth showing brilliant white in the fire’s glow.

“I believe I shall,” she responded, both assent and benediction.

She leaned down, her lips brushing gently over Janeway’s mouth, then covering it completely, moving over her with tender, yet passionate devotion. Slowly, Seven lowered herself until she was completely covering the captain who accepted the weight and warmth of this body with a joy so utter, so dizzying that she thought she would pass out.

How could a body press down on her so lightly, yet feel as if it was overpowering her at the same time? Janeway wondered dazedly. She felt Seven’s hands beneath her shoulders, cradling her with strong forearms even as the generous breasts and flat belly rested on her own, soft, yielding, so vulnerable to her.

She slid her arms up under Seven’s, around her back, hands spreading wide over the shoulder blades that flexed and moved under her grasp, over silken muscles that rippled beneath her fingertips. Their legs entwined and somehow found places to rest, supporting and drawing each other closer as, at their center, fine swatches of blonde and auburn tangled and tugged, a promise of future touch, of need that was teased, taunted, but not yet fulfilled, pressed moistly against each other.

Janeway could scarcely catch her breath when the kiss was finished, and the lips moved briefly away to taste chin, and cheek, tracing the jaw briefly before returning once more to take command of her mouth, the tongue swirling around hers, the satiny sweetness of Seven filling her. She accepted it eagerly, devouring that mouth that was so wonderfully full, so intoxicating, so completely enticing.

Where did she learn to kiss like this? the captain thought somewhat deliriously. I never taught her this. God, who could? Is this pure natural ability? Let’s hear it for Borg ingenuity yet again … or is it her Human side which grants her such skill?

Janeway supposed now was not the time to try to figure it out.

She let herself sink into the power of that kiss, of the embrace, of the warm, full body pressing down on her. It felt so good to be loved this way, to surrender to this very physical connection she felt with someone who meant so much to her emotionally, to allow this intimacy and closeness fill her, and make her feel completely and totally loved. When Seven finally freed her mouth, trailing gently down her neck to the soft hollow of her throat, Janeway could not help but moan quietly. She felt the bright edge of teeth against her collarbone as Seven smiled, then the demanding lips moved further down until they were tracing over the captain’s breasts, finding the soft nipples which throbbed with need, stiff little nubs that Seven nuzzled, the touch of her tongue prodding them, teasing them, swirling around them with gentle pleasure, first one, then the other, alternating back and forth with deliberate desire.

“Annika,” Janeway murmured, raking her fingers through the long, blonde hair, arching up to the skilled mouth that was granting her such wonderful pleasure. She whimpered, swallowing hard as she panted, mouth drying from her gasps for air. “Oh, Annika.”

Seven gave a few final kisses to the nipples as if to promise that she would be back, and continued her path ever downward. Janeway felt the loving mouth nibble over the underside of her breasts, nuzzling at her belly, tickling her as it brushed over her skin. She jerked suddenly as Seven jabbed her tongue into her navel, and Janeway smiled, eyes closed as her head lolled slowly back and forth on the bedroll, a mint scent of crushed ferns rising to fill her nostrils. She shivered as she felt Seven draw even lower, kissing over the curve of her abdomen to the thatch of hair which the younger woman nuzzled lovingly.

“My darling,” Janeway whispered quietly as she spread her legs at Seven’s gentle insistence, allowing the Borg to position herself between them, bending her knees to draw them up, opening herself to her partner. “Oh, love….”

She caught her breath as she felt the mouth cover her, the tip of Seven’s tongue taking a long, slow swipe from the vulnerable opening, gathering up moisture, then passing up over the sensitive bundle of nerves which sent chills through Janeway, shivers of the most exquisite delight.

“Oh,” she breathed, and tightened her grip on the blonde hair as Seven settled in and began to feast upon her with more appetite and interest than the woman ever brought to mere food. “Annika….oh….”

Moments later, she felt Seven’s right hand sliding up her leg, brushing light over the inside of her thigh, then worming itself between the avid mouth and body, the fingertips touching Janeway’s tender opening, sliding inside ever so slightly. The captain tensed in anticipation, then made herself relax, accepting with joy the long, slender fingers as they entered her, slowly, carefully, caressing and stroking the smooth walls as they went. Janeway made another sound, inarticulate, soft, low, deep in her throat.

For some reason, she could not give full voice to what she was feeling as she had so many times before. Perhaps it was the past few days of primitive living, of her encounter with the predator that morning, that restrained her cries, cautioned her instincts. In any event, where even the threat of embarrassment to her position, the possible compromising of her rank, could not keep her silent in more civilized surroundings, here in the wilds where an inadvertent sound could grant predators the knowledge of vulnerability, Janeway unconsciously bit hard on her lip, and kept as quiet as possible until Seven found that spot inside which drove her over the edge. Even then, she limited herself to a barely audible keening deep in her chest as she spasmed and shuddered, clutching Seven’s head to her.

She quivered as Seven continued to taste her though the caress was gentle, light, a need to soothe rather than excite now. Then the younger woman nuzzled her gently in farewell and rose up, moving over Janeway until she was straddling the captain’s hips. Janeway opened her eyes to see her lover rising over her like a goddess, looking down at her with both demand and plea in her pale eyes. Janeway ran her hands over top of the smooth thighs, then down into the warm, silky soft inner leg, using her fingers to carefully touch the swollen lips, stroking lightly before slipping between them to the heat and wetness within. Seven took a breath, back arching, her head falling back and she began to undulate gently on her. Janeway played her lovingly, knowing where Seven needed to be touched, slowly guiding the young woman’s desire, channeling it into an ever rising spiral. She carefully pushed a finger deep inside, flexing it rhythmically as her thumb found the sensitive little nodule outside, the tiny, slick erection of flesh that made Seven tremble helplessly when she fondled it with a firm touch, before carefully adding a second digit to the warm channel. With her other hand, she reached up and touched the offering of the Borg’s full breasts, caressing them lovingly, moving back and forth between both.

The captain was mesmerized by the sight of her partner, by the red flicker of firelight playing over Seven’s body, bringing a warm, golden glow to flesh covered with silky skin, at the shimmering cascade of blonde hair that spilled over her shoulders and down her back. Her arms held over her head, Seven’s eyes were closed, her mouth open … though no sound escaped beyond the quiet whisper, a single word, a name, repeated over and over.

“Kathryn…. Kathryn….”

On the ninth ‘Kathryn’, Janeway felt it happen, felt her fingers squeezed by velvet slick walls, the regular pulsations which drew her in deeper, and she penetrated as far as she could, amazed at the textures beneath her fingertips, knowing she was touching an area she had never managed before. Seven clenched her fists, lifting up on her knees, holding it for an eternity before her head finally fell forward and she relaxed, sinking back down onto Janeway. She gazed down at the captain with eyes which were dark, the pupils so wide, filling them until there was only a sliver of blue around the black.

Janeway looked up at her, her hands motionless now but still incased by heat, her whole self captured by those warm eyes which she knew seemed so cold to everyone else. Seven stared back at her, their gaze locked, unbreakable by any outside force.

“Annika,” Janeway whispered, feeling as if she were about to cry. “You are my heart.”

“You are mine,” Seven responded softly. “I love you, Kathryn. I will always love you.”

Janeway smiled tremulously, and carefully she released Seven as the Borg slowly lowered herself until they were once more lying side by side, sliding her arms around the captain, pulling her to her lanky body as she held her tightly. Janeway took a breath and finally closed her eyes, surrendering to the loving embrace which surrounded her, protected her. Tucking her head neatly into the hollow of Seven’s shoulder, buried against the smooth, soft skin which she nuzzled tenderly, the captain felt her partner somehow find the sleeping bag and draw it up around them both.

For long moments, Janeway lay there, fully sated, wonderfully warmed through and through, completely and totally at peace with herself and everything else. She could hear Seven’s soft respiration, felt mutely the soft throb of pulse under her cheek. Beyond them, the fire continued to snap and crackle though it was burning low, the soft glow of embers rather than the bright violence of flame. Outside, the wind howled and the rain drummed steadily, thunder rumbling low, combining in a symphony that made things seem even more cozy inside this safe haven they had found.

“Annika, love,” Janeway said finally, with quiet pleasure. “We couldn’t have planned for a vacation this wonderful.”

Seven tightened her grip slightly, a hug of affection and love. “I believe you are correct,” she noted softly. “Anticipation is appealing, but I have come to discover that the most enjoyable times are those that happen unexpectedly.”

“They are,” the captain agreed. She cuddled closer, shifting slightly until she found the comfortable spot, one that had her half-sprawled across Seven’s warm, lanky form, cradled by the strong yet slender arms. “Even if it is a vacation at the expense of another shuttle,” she added, idly stroking the soft skin of Seven’s chest. “I know you must be disappointed in the results, but we’ll figure out what exactly happened once we’re back, darling. I know you’ll be able to fix whatever when wrong and get us home.”

Seven was silent which was unusual for her. The young woman loved to talk, both before and after making love, shutting up only when the captain refused to continue the conversation. Vaguely disturbed, Janeway raised up so that she could look down into the serious features. There was an expression in her lover’s eyes that Janeway had trouble identifying.

“What’s wrong?” she asked softly.

Seven hesitated. Clearly she was having difficulty with this. “I find that I am not disappointed that it did not work at all,” she admitted finally. “In some ways, I am glad it failed. I know that you will be in trouble when we return to the Alpha Quadrant. I do not wish for you to be in trouble.”

Janeway blinked. “What kind of ‘trouble’,” she asked.

“With Starfleet Command,” Seven said. “B’Elanna told me you could face court martial. That you could be imprisoned.”

“Seven, stop right there,” Janeway said gently if firmly, curbing her annoyance with the chief engineer with an effort. “Darling, I’m gratified that both you and B’Elanna are so concerned for my well being, but don’t be. Whatever decisions I’ve made, I’m fully prepared to stand by them, and even if those decisions result in a loss of rank or even a full court martial, I’d willingly return to face the music if it meant my crew and my ship were safe. Besides, B’Elanna doesn’t necessarily understand how things work in Starfleet, so at best, she’s only speculating about what might happen upon our return.”

Seven looked obstinate. “I do not wish for you to be hurt, or imprisoned,” she said. “Or even demoted. You are a great captain. They have no right to judge you.”

“Darling, Starfleet has every right to judge me,” Janeway explained quietly, but persuasively. “I accepted their rules and regulations going in. I haven’t always been able to follow them out here in the Delta Quadrant, but if my actions have been unacceptable to Starfleet, they have the right to take me to task for it. That’s how the command structure works.”

“I do not care for the command structure,” Seven said stubbornly. “I will not let them harm you. Even if they put you in prison, I will find a way to get you out.”

Janeway got a sudden mental image of Seven arranging a jail-break and she took a slow breath.

“My love, please don’t worry about this,” Janeway said quietly. “Just trust that I know what I’m doing, even when it seems like I don’t. Have faith in me and my capabilities. Believe in me when I tell you that things will be all right in the Alpha Quadrant.”

Seven didn’t bite, much to the captain’s dismay. That one would have totally convinced the younger woman a few months earlier.

“You have no control over what Starfleet might do,” Seven said coolly. “It is made up of individuals with independent weaknesses. Too much of their judgement depends on random elements which have nothing to do with you.”

Janeway frowned. “What do you mean?” she asked.

“If the Dominion War is still active when we return, they will pardon you, not because they should, but because they are in need of your abilities,” Seven said. “However, if the Federation is at peace, it is entirely possible that certain admirals will require that you be punished, not because you deserve it necessarily, but to serve as an example to the more independent officers within Starfleet.”

Janeway exhaled, considering the implications of this, not so much at what was said, which could be a reasonable supposition of what could very well happen, but the fact that Seven was saying it in the first place. The young woman was displaying a far greater awareness of Federation politics and Starfleet maneuvering than the captain had ever given her credit for knowing. She regarded Seven closely. Not much wonder she no longer falls for platitudes, Janeway thought ruefully.

“You’ve researched this,” she said quietly.

“Yes,” Seven said. “I will not let you face it alone.”

Janeway smiled gently. “I believe you,” she said, greatly touched. She leaned down and kissed Seven gently, barely brushing her lips over the wonderful full mouth. “Will you accept that it’s something we can’t make decisions about until it happens?” she said softly. “Yet, we still must do everything in our power to return home?”

Seven nodded. “I do wish to return despite the possible repercussions,” she said, lowering her eyes. “I do not want you to think that I would ever stop attempting to return to the Alpha Quadrant. It is very important to you, which makes it very important to me.”

“Thank you,” Janeway said softly.

Seven pulled her closer. “I am concerned about you,” she said.

“I know, my love,” Janeway replied. “It will be all right, Annika. I truly believe that.”

Seven took a breath. “Very well,” she said reluctantly. “I will accept your authority in this.”

Janeway’s lips quirked, but she decided not to comment on that comment. Instead, she nestled her head back on Seven’s chest, and closed her eyes, allowing the warmth of her partner to surround her. She felt Seven gently stroke her hair, slowly running her fingers over her scalp in a soothing, pleasant motion. It was incredibly relaxing, and she felt drowsiness steal over her with irresistible force.

“I’m falling asleep,” she warned softly.

“Is that bad?” Seven asked softly into her ear.

“No, but I thought you might want to talk more,” Janeway responded.

“Go to sleep, Kathryn,” Seven said in answer and hugged her tightly. “I will be here when you wake.”

Janeway smiled, and stopped resisting as sleep claimed her.

Commander Chakotay and Lt. B’Elanna Torres materialized on the ridge overlooking a lovely little valley. Though the upper atmosphere was agitated in many areas of the planet, at the moment, the skies overhead were clear, and the sun shone brightly on the lush greenery, sparkling off the water of a small river flowing through the grassy banks.

B’Elanna lifted her tricorder and scanned the area. “There,” she said, gesturing with the device.

Chakotay nodded and they picked their way off the ridge and down into the meadow, the signals making a steady target for them to trace. Neither comm badge appeared to be moving, and both Voyager crewmembers were apprehensive, though neither let on to the other. There had been no response to their hails, and as soon as Voyager slid into orbit, the first officer and chief engineer were quick to beam down. Tuvok had wanted to come along, but Chakotay had decided that since the Vulcan was third in command, they couldn’t afford to have them all down there.

The couple approached a thick density of brush, and stopped suddenly, looking at a set of undergarments and a biometric outfit lying crumpled on the ground, the bright gold of the comm badges showing distinctly. Chakotay exchanged a grave look with B’Elanna, and examined the discarded clothing. The Klingon walked on a few more feet, pushing on through the underbrush, following what appeared to be marks in the dirt.

“There’s no sign of violence,” he offered to her back.

“No wonder,” B’Elanna said, an odd tone to her voice. She gestured at him to join her.

He gathered up the clothes and moved to her side, jaw dropping as he discovered the incredible scene which had been concealed by the high brush. Below them, a deep pool formed by rocks and trees provided the quintessential swimming hole. Chakotay had a brief impression of tanned flesh and auburn hair as Captain Janeway hurtled through the air on the end of a rope attached to a tree that loomed over the water, poised for a timeless instant in mid-air in all her naked glory before plunging into the blue water with a very undignified yell.

B’Elanna tilted her head. “I’m guessing they’re all right,” she said dryly.

He snorted and strode down to the bank, B’Elanna snickering audibly as she followed him. Seven spotted them first, a wide smile spreading over her face and she reached out for Janeway who had just surfaced. Chakotay had only a few more seconds to see what he presumed was the true Kathryn Janeway, a healthy, tanned woman in the prime of life, filled with love and laughter, totally relaxed and happy before the command mask abruptly slammed down upon the elegant face, wiping away that precious glimpse into that other self.

With remarkable aplomb, she swam over to them, stopping a few feet out. She stood up, though the water was still neck deep, and regarded them calmly. He carefully kept his eyes on her face, and not on the tantalizing hint of body distorted by the rippling effect of the clear water.

“Commander,” she greeted formally. “I must admit, I hadn’t expected Voyager to find us this quickly. I suppose Murphy’s Law demands that you arrive at the time Seven and I take our swimming lessons.”

“Oh, is that what you call it?” B’Elanna said, not hiding her amusement. “It looked to me like you were skinny-dipping.”

Janeway met the young Klingon’s eyes evenly. “We don’t call it that,” she replied, a bit of a keen edge to her voice.

B’Elanna grinned at her, completely unintimidated, and waved at Seven who was still treading water in the center of the pool. “You’re swimming like a fish now, ‘Nik,” she said. She did not notice the sudden glint that appeared in the captain’s eyes.

Seven looked puzzled. “I am unable to breathe under the surface as aquatic animals do,” she pointed out with some confusion as she paddled closer until she was next to Janeway. She revealed a little more cleavage than Janeway did when she stood up, but most of her remained under the surface. Chakotay didn’t know if he should be disappointed by that … or relieved.

“It was a compliment, not a scientific observation,” B’Elanna retorted. “What happened to you two anyway?”

Seven raised an eyebrow. “An anomaly pulled us off course and set up a fatal feedback loop within the system,” she said. She tilted her head slightly. “How did you arrive here so quickly? It has only been three weeks. We anticipated a wait of three month’s duration.”

“That anomaly that took you off course?” Chakotay interrupted. “It pulled you in a circle so although your instruments read that you were one hundred, ninety-seven point nineteen light years away from where you started, you were actually only about a quarter of that.”

“You retrieved the probe,” Seven said knowingly. “The shuttle was completely destroyed.”

“The emergency beacon led us straight here,” Chakotay explained. “I admit, we had a few qualms when there was no response to our hails, and we beamed down immediately.”

“We didn’t hear it,” Janeway said, raising her hand to forestall what would be a lengthy debriefing. “My fault. I’ve become too comfortable on this world during the past two weeks. Speaking of which, I would like to set up a rotating schedule for shore leave, Commander. As you can see, the conditions here are perfect for it.”

“The crew will be glad to hear it, Captain,” Chakotay noted. “Meanwhile, I’m glad to see everything is all right with both of you.”

There was a pause as they all looked at each other. Janeway frowned briefly.

“Commander, if you could….” her voice trailed off as she looked at him and the clothes he was holding in his hands. There was a significant arch to her brow.

He stared blankly at her, then flushed. “Uh, yeah, sorry.” He carefully put down the clothes on the bank, then he tapped his comm badge. “Chakotay to Voyager. Situation is fine. One to beam up.” Sparkles took him away leaving behind B’Elanna, who regarded the two women with her arms crossed over her chest.

“I want you to know that animal is completely uncontrollable,” she said suddenly.

Seven frowned. “Commander Chakotay?” she asked uncertainly.

“I believe she’s referring to Jake,” Janeway said dryly to her partner. She turned back to B’Elanna. “So it fell upon you to take care of him, Lieutenant?”

“No one else would. He was a handful,” B’Elanna noted. “I swear, he’s like a Klingon pet. No manners.” She grinned impudently at her. “By the way, what the hell did you do for three weeks anyway?”

“It was a vacation,” Seven interjected proudly.

“I knew it,” B’Elanna exclaimed. “Guess that’s one of the perks of being captain.” She tilted her head and leered gently at Janeway. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

“We had few options in this,” Janeway replied evenly. “Accepting it as a vacation seemed a reasonable attitude to take with it.” She eyed B’Elanna narrowly for a moment and extended her hand. “It occurs to me that there is another attitude that I need to address with you.”

B’Elanna looked baffled. “Really, what?” she said, innocently accepting the captain’s grasp.

“The matter of how you involve yourself in my personal relationship,” Janeway said. “That is unacceptable. As has been your presumption towards me lately.” To B’Elanna’s outrage, and Seven’s vast amusement, Janeway suddenly yanked the Klingon engineer over her head, sending her flying into the water behind her.

By the time B’Elanna had finally found her footing, cursing a blue Klingon streak the entire time, both Janeway and Seven were out of the water, and on the shore. The captain had redonned her garments and was standing on the bank, hands on her hips, observing her crewman’s struggles impassively.

“What the hell did you do that for?” the engineer yelped.

“Because I can,” Janeway told her, a deadly quiet to her tone. “It would be good that you remember that … the next time you’re tempted to forget who you’re dealing with, puq ngaDHa’ Sun. If you wish to grant your Klingon side dominance, then I shall be glad to treat you as one.”

She stared down the suddenly subdued B’Elanna, a haughty expression on her face, then favored Seven with a glance before disappearing into the brush.

Seven regarded B’Elanna evenly. “I believe she has been upset with you,” she told her. “For some time.”

“I think you’re right,” B’Elanna said, wide-eyed as she waded to the shore, so stunned she forgot to be angry. “I guess I went too far. Finally.” She frowned. “I wonder what that was she called me. I’m going to have to look it up.”

Seven offered one of her rare, full smiles. “I’m sure it was appropriate,” she said. She offered her hand to help her friend out of the water.

B’Elanna eyed it suspiciously for a second, then accepted the hand, and let Seven haul her out of the river. “I guess I have been pushing things a little,” she admitted as she stood dripping on the bank, uniform completely drenched, her comm badge spitting out a few, final feeble sparks. “Maybe even a lot. She had to have been saving it up, however.”

“Three weeks is a long time for her to be away from her ship,” Seven noted sagely. “I expect we shall see a significantly increased attention to discipline in the immediate future as she resumes command. I do not believe we shall have the same freedom we once enjoyed, B’Elanna. Regarding our ‘horseplay’, I mean.”

“Wonderful,” B’Elanna muttered. “I guess we started this, didn’t we?”

Seven found her clothes and began pulling them on. “We did,” she agreed. “Remember, however, Captain Janeway shall always be the one to finish it.”

Captain Janeway entered her quarters, and was immediately attacked by their puppy who had grown a few inches, and felt as if he had added about ten more pounds. Caught off guard, her hands full of padds, exhausted from a variety of briefings and assuming her role as captain once more, she lost her footing and crashed inelegantly to the deck. The padds scattered over the carpet, and Janeway bit off a curse as ecstatically, Jake scrambled over her, landing on her chest and licking her face with great glee.

Seven gracefully stepped around them and began to pick up the padds.

“I did warn you about allowing him to develop such a habit,” she said mildly.

Janeway wrestled the dog down on the floor and scolded him. “No, Jake,” she said, sitting up breathlessly. “Bad dog. Sit.”

Jake backed off, but did not sit. Instead, he looked plaintively at the captain, ears flattened to his head, obviously disappointed that his offer to play was rejected. The captain thought he looked remarkably like Seven did when she had been caught doing something she shouldn’t, such as pinching someone on the butt. The captain wondered if he had picked it up from the Borg, or if it had been the other way around. In either case, it made her feel vaguely ashamed that she had caused any unhappiness whatsoever, despite the fact a reprimand was completely necessary. He must have sensed her ambivalence because he immediately forgave her rude response, and pounced on her feet, snapping at the trousers that fell over the polished boots and tugging heartily on them.

“Jake, no, bad dog,” she said as she pulled her feet out of his reach. She stood up, brushing herself off, and frowned at the arched brow her partner was displaying. “All right,” she said sourly. “I get the point.” She stared at Jake forbiddingly for a moment until he lowered his head, then she snapped her fingers. “Come,” she instructed firmly.

Jaws split wide in a puppy grin now that he was back in his mistress’s good graces, he scrambled across the room which was hardly the proper response to the captain’s command. Seven lowered her head, not stifling her small smile as she deposited the padds on the work console before leaning casually against it while she observed what Janeway intended to do next.

Janeway frowned, attracted Jake’s attention, and began working with the animal, making him approach her again and again, repeating the lesson until he had once more grasped the concept of ‘come’ and ‘sit’. Only after he seemed to have it down did she reward him with a bone-shaped organic treat, replicated from stores, hoping the brief lesson was sufficient to keep him from jumping on her the next time she entered her quarters, though she suspected it would take a lot more than that. He was a smart little pup, eager to please, but there was no question the last three weeks of not being trained had been bad for him.

“He has forgotten a great deal,” Seven noted, watching as he dragged his treasure into the corner and settled down to gnaw on it. “He no longer has any discipline.”

“He’s not the only one,” Janeway said with a sigh, finding a seat on the couch. She raked her fingers through her hair and stared with frustration at the dog. “How did I let things go so much? It should never have come down to me having to yank B’Elanna into a pool of water to make her understand she was being impudent.”

Seven hesitated, then sat down beside her. “I think that you are being too hard on yourself,” she offered. “It was an effective way to deal with her. You did not punish her publicly, and it is she who has been choosing to shade more to her Klingon side. I know she realizes that she had gone too far in her familiarity with you. She also realizes that her punishment was perhaps easier than it could have been, either as a member of Starfleet or as a Klingon soldier. You have not even put it in her file, have you?”

“No, I didn’t,” Janeway said. “However, there’s no question I’ve been letting things slide a little since…” She trailed off and would not look at Seven.

“Since you thought I was dead,” Seven responded mildly. “I noted that you altered your priorities significantly upon my return.”

Janeway nodded. “That was when it happened,” she agreed. She took a breath. “I didn’t want to be like my father, Annika. I didn’t want to put my career so far ahead of my personal life that you paid the price like we did with Daddy. I was so grateful for my second chance with you that I swore you would be the most important thing in my life, but I think I went too far in that direction. I shouldn’t have been the one making that test flight, and I definitely shouldn’t have allowed the ship to lose its captain for three weeks. I was fortunate it hadn’t turned out to be the three months we originally envisioned. I have a responsibility to this ship, this crew. I can’t continue to shirk it like I have been.”

Seven considered that, clearly searching for the proper thing to say. “You enjoyed your ‘vacation’,” she reminded her. “I do not believe anything was harmed by it, not the crew or the ship, and especially not you. I believe you ‘needed’ that time to relax.”

“Maybe,” the captain said uncertainly. “Do you remember how I told you that part of the reason I didn’t want anyone to know about this slipstream project was because it might allow them to become sloppy?”

“I do,” Seven said.

“Well, I think I’m the one who became sloppy,” Janeway admitted. “It was almost as if, with the Alpha Quadrant within reach, I let myself lose some of my discipline, my willingness to sacrifice my own needs for that of the ship. I have to fix that, Annika.”

Seven nodded, thinking about it. “Perhaps you must,” she allowed gently. “I realize that you feel that you have gone too far in a personal versus a professional direction, but surely, a happy medium can be found. I cannot believe you wish to lose all the trust and understanding we have gained in our partnership.”

Janeway nodded. “You’re right, I don’t,” she said. “Outside of our relationship, however, I have to tighten things up. That includes how I deal with you on a professional level. I may seem harder at times than I need to be, but I don’t want you to think that it means I care any less for you.”

Seven reached over and took her hand. “You are a great captain,” she said quietly. “You will find a way to balance this. I will help you all I can.”

Janeway smiled and nodded. “I know you will, love.” She regarded her partner thoughtfully. “I’m glad to see that you’re becoming more aware of the intricacies of command.”

“Since you have become more inclined to … relax your protocols with me,” Seven pointed out. “It seems an equitable exchange. Our relationship is a series of compromises … on both our parts.”

Janeway was surprised. “You know, I think you’re right,” she agreed. “Perhaps we should take a longer look at this, list them all, and possibly discover other ways to balance our lives as a couple with our role on the ship.”

“Now?” Seven looked disappointed.

“Did you have something else in mind?” Janeway asked with a touch of confusion.

Seven raised a brow. “I have been envisioning a bath in hot water for some time,” she said, eyeing Janeway hopefully. “One involving a great deal of bubbles.”

Janeway laughed. “I believe that’s a very good idea,” she said. She leaned into her partner’s lanky form. “Do you want to run the bath while I light the candles and make up the bed?”

“Acceptable,” Seven allowed and abruptly stood. She held out her hands and Janeway accepted them warmly.

Arm in arm, they headed for the ensuite.

Epilogue

The small setter paused in his gnawing as he suddenly heard the sound of splashing water. That sounded very much like something he should investigate, and quickly, he scrambled to his feet and galloped for the bathroom. Inside, he was thrilled to discover his people sitting in a large round object that smelled oddly sweet, yet clearly contained water. He barked happily at them until his smaller person suddenly scooped him up, and dropped him into the tub with them, much to his great delight and his larger person’s violent protestations.

Jake suspected she would get over it. Though the larger one was very territorial, he respected that, and she was very kind to him, especially when the smaller one was not around. Plus, she provided his food most of the time. He loved her unreservedly as he did the smaller one whom he sensed was the dominant member of the pack, the lead bitch. As for the odd smelling one who had taken care of him recently, he had finally decided that she was also a member of the pack though not a predominant one, mostly harmless, if very loud. He thrashed about in the water gleefully, content that his family was intact, all present, accounted for, and most of all, exactly where they belonged.

Home.

The End

Back to Season One

On to Just Between Memories

Table of Contents

Epilogue