This is the 16th in the Just Between series. Please read the accompanying note at the end if you wish to understand some of the reasoning for writing this story.

This was posted the last part of March, 1999 as Voyager was moving into the latter part of the fifth season.

Just Between Futures

G. L. Dartt

Seven of Nine, late of the Borg Collective and currently Astrometrics Officer for USS Voyager, blinked in the glare of the red-orange sun shining down on the colorful and noisy festival. The immediate area was thronged with people, including several of her fellow crewmembers who were enjoying the last rotation of shore leave before having to leave this particular planet. The young woman found herself buffeted by the sounds, sights and smells, wondering how anyone managed to navigate through the crowds. She was forced to stop abruptly as several small offspring of the Cirrellian inhabitants darted through the crowd, barely avoiding a collision with her. Her companion was apparently not as agile.

“Oof.” B’Elanna Torres let out her breath in a huff, stumbling back as she rebounded off the tall slender blond. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I did not wish to collide with the children,” Seven responded evenly.

“Well, give a little more warning next time,” the Klingon woman grumbled, rubbing her chest which had impacted with Seven’s elbows. Shorter, more compact than the curvaceous Seven, the chief engineer shaded her dark eyes with her hand, trying to peer over the crowd. “Can you see a tavern?”

“Not as yet.” Seven stifled a sigh. She wished to investigate the more colorful booths and displays provided by the planet’s culture as they celebrated the Festival of Future, but it was clear B’Elanna was still intent on finding an establishment where she could sit down and enjoy a ‘cold one’. Of course, the Borg could leave B’Elanna behind and go her own way, but she had agreed to spend shore leave with her friend in the absence of her partner. In addition, she was still not entirely comfortable at the idea of being on her own in a large group of strangers.

Her eye was caught by a flash of reddish hair and for a split second, she thought she recognized Voyager’s captain, Kathryn Janeway. It turned out to be someone else entirely, and she sighed again. Seven knew it was not likely that Janeway would be out of her meetings with the local merchants so soon, where the captain was negotiating for various supplies that the ship needed. Though Janeway had offered a tentative hope that she might be able to spend some shore leave with Seven, it was not something either of them could expect.

Seven was surprised to find that despite the fact she and Kathryn had been married for a couple of months, she still wanted to be with her spouse almost all the time, still wanted to spend every spare moment with her, still wanted to simply be in her presence … contrary to all B’Elanna’s predictions that once one had married, all the ‘magic’ was lost. The Borg wondered if she should have asked to go with Kathryn. Even if she couldn’t offer anything to the bargaining sessions, it would have been sufficient for her to merely sit quietly nearby and watch as the captain negotiated with the aliens who had been so accommodating to the lost Federation vessel.

“I think I see one,” B’Elanna said suddenly, poking Seven in the ribs. “Over there. Come on.”

Seven had little recourse but to follow as the dark haired woman began bulling her way through the seething mass of celebrants toward a structure. Once they were closer, Seven was amused to realize it was another of the many nutritional suppliers that dotted the fair grounds. Previous encounters had taught them that while the food was good if slightly bland, the restaurants did not provide fermented beverages. They had been informed that they would have to go to a specialized establishment for that, though the subsequent directions provided were much less precise and helpful.

As B’Elanna cursed, Seven drifted over to a nearby booth where a Cirrilean was offering the opportunity to acquire certain items in exchange for throwing projectiles. The Borg’s attention was caught by a bright blue furry animal sitting on a stool, restrained by a leash attached to a small bejeweled collar. It was a tiny thing, with big dark eyes and tufts of silver on the oversized ears, and the young woman wondered if Naomi Wildman would like such a thing. In recent months, more and more of the animal lovers in the crew had requested time with the captain’s Irish Setter, Jake, and in the interest of fairness, Janeway had agreed to set up a rotating schedule so that all those who wished could spend time with the dog.

That meant the ship’s only child, who had been the pup’s full time playmate, lost out. Seven decided a replacement of sorts would be perfect, allowing the child to have her own pet rather than having to share with everyone else, but until now, she had not found any likely candidates. She knew that currently, the five year old was somewhere on the grounds with her mother, Ensign Samantha Wildman, and the vessel’s resident Delta Quadrant native, Neelix. She thought that Naomi would greatly enjoy this surprise, particularly since her birthday was to occur within a few weeks. Seven had a great fondness for birthdays and their accompanying rituals.

“How much for the animal?” she asked the booth attendant.

“Seven, what are you doing?” B’Elanna asked as she joined her, a frown creasing her face.

“I am inquiring as to the purchase price of the creature,” Seven informed her and turned back to the proprietor as she dug into her stash of local currency provided by the ship prior to their beaming down.

“Seven, you can’t take a biological entity onto the ship without authorization,” B’Elanna protested. “It’s against regulations.”

Seven regarded her. “You are correct.” She was slightly embarrassed at having forgotten that in her enthusiasm to find a gift for Naomi. She drew out her tricorder and thoroughly scanned the creature, determining that it was not harmful to Humans … or Katarians … and would in turn, not be harmed by their environment. “It is compatible.”

“You brought a tricorder on shore leave?” B’Elanna said with disbelief as she eyed the creature narrowly. “Why do you want this thing, anyway?”

“A pet for Naomi, for her birthday.”

B’Elanna regarded her as if she had lost her mind. “Seven, you don’t even know if it is a pet. It could be their version of a … a penguin, just some sort of oddity to show off.”

Since Seven did not know what a penguin was, she ignored the engineer. “Tell me about the creature.”

The proprietor, who had been listening to the conversation keenly, as well as greedily eyeing the handful of coins the Borg had pulled out of her pouch, grinned widely, revealing a mouth full of slightly pointed teeth. “It’s called a B’Rethna,” he said, his solid brown eyes glinting in the sunlight. “They do make lovely pets, especially for children. They are gentle, kind, loving, amazingly loyal to whomever bonds with it.” Abruptly, he looked sad. “But this one is not for sale.”

Seven blinked. “No?” she said with disappointment. “You have bonded with it?” She wasn’t exactly sure what bonding was, but it did sound like something permanent between the pet and the master.

“No, it’s not bonded, but you can’t buy it. You can only win it.”

“Win it?”

Beside her, B’Elanna looked disgusted. “It’s a scam, Seven.”

The Cirrilean frowned at the engineer, lifting his head to toss back the lock of orange hair from his ridged forehead. “This is an game of skill, not chance,” he said with wounded dignity before smiling at Seven charmingly. “Three balls for ten lenthra. Throw one through the opening and the little one is yours.”

“Ten lenthra?!?” B’Elanna yelped. “That’s more than our whole meal.”

“Surely the smile of a child is worth that,” the Cirrilean said encouragingly.

Since Seven had no sense of commercial exchange, nor particularly cared, she was in complete agreement. “I will proceed,” she said, counting out the required currency.

“Seven, the captain isn’t going to let you take that thing on board,” B’Elanna tried again.

Seven glanced at her. “I will explain it to her so that she will,” she said with utter conviction. “It is not harmful.” She paused, aware that B’Elanna, for all her bluster, had also developed a bit of a soft spot for the ship’s only child. “It is difficult for Naomi to be so alone all the time. She requires someone or something to play with when the adults around her must be on duty.”

B’Elanna glared darkly at her. “Fine. If you can win it and convince the captain to allow you to keep it, then I’ll authorize it as your department head for it to be taken on board.” It was apparent she didn’t think Seven would be able to accomplish either.

Seven picked up the projectile the Cirrilean handed her and eyed the opening judiciously. She was vaguely aware of a crowd having gathered to watch, but she ignored them as the optical implant framing her left eye analyzed the openings on the board at the far end of the structure. Hefting the sphere gingerly in her right hand, she determined that none of the openings were quite large enough to allow the ball to pass through cleanly, though it was a very subtle difference in comparative sizes. She decided it was an error on the part of the manufacturers and she switched the projectile to her left hand. With unerring accuracy and Borg strength, she drilled the projectile at the opening in the center, the ball barely squeezing through … though it had to widen the aperture by a slight margin in doing so.

“Oh, Kahless on a crutch,” B’Elanna mumbled as Seven retrieved the creature from the shocked and astonished proprietor who could not object, particularly since the surrounding crowd that had been observing this with great interest, greeted the winning of the prize with loud glee and cheers at the Borg’s prowess.

“The captain isn’t gonna like this,” B’Elanna told her as they moved away. “We’re supposed to stay out of trouble. In fact, that’s the last thing she said to us before we beamed down.”

“Acquiring the animal was no trouble. The ball was only slightly larger than the opening.” She examined the creature intently, holding it up before her face. It regarded her back with wide gentle eyes. “It is very attractive.”

B’Elanna eyed it briefly. “It is cute,” she agreed grudgingly. “I suppose Naomi will just love it, but what the hell are you going to feed it until her birthday?”

“I’m sure we can utilize the ship’s sensors to determine its nutritional requirements.” Seven turned her head as she spotted what she decided was an establishment that provided fermented beverages. “There is your ‘tavern’.”

“About time,” B’Elanna said as she barreled through the crowd.

The pair were stopped at the door. “No pets,” the large individual growled, a massive arm barring the door.

Originally, Seven thought that B’Elanna was going to punch him, but the respective size of the being who towered over Seven. who in her heels, reached almost six feet tall, must have given the engineer pause. Though it was entirely possible the real reason for the hesitation was that the Klingon simply didn’t want to beat up the bouncer and end up being barred from entering anyway.

“I shall wait out here,” Seven said, forestalling the argument as she nodded at the bench which was positioned just outside the entrance, beneath the shade of a nearby tree.

B’Elanna bit off a curse and regarded Seven anxiously. “I’ll only have one,” she promised.

“I will wait,” Seven told her and sat down patiently.

She quirked an eyebrow as B’Elanna cast her a final apologetic look before disappearing into the building and leaned back onto the hard bench. The creature had apparently decided that the Borg was not harmful and settled onto her lap, curling up into a small mound. Seven discovered that when she stroked the silky blue fur on its back, it vibrated pleasantly, giving off a faint hum … rather like the sound the captain made when Seven kissed along the line of her throat. It was warm and soothing, and she liked it a great deal.

She smiled faintly and looked up, observing the crowd with a detached interest, a sort of scientific curiosity that sharpened immeasurably when she spotted the Human across the street. The thin woman dressed in a long skirt and colorful shawl was not off Voyager, which made her out of place indeed. The only Humans in the Delta Quadrant, not counting those which had been assimilated by the Borg, were the ones brought here by entities known as Caretakers. Seven knew the captain was interested in such mysteries, and she stared keenly at the woman who was perusing the wares displayed in the window of a shop.

The woman seemed to sense the scrutiny and looked back at Seven, her large green eyes capturing the Borg with the intensity of their gaze. Seven’s whole world shifted abruptly and became very small, completely centered on those eyes.

When B’Elanna Torres exited the tavern ten minutes later, the only thing she found on the bench was the blue, furry creature huddled there as if too terrified to move, shivering uncontrollably.

Captain Kathryn Janeway glanced over at her security chief and raised an eyebrow, seeing it echoed by the dark-skinned Vulcan who was observing her in a faintly sardonic matter. She didn’t blame him. The amount of lenthra the Cirrileans wanted was far more than she wanted to give, and she hadn’t gone this far in the Delta Quadrant without knowing when someone was trying to take advantage of her. Hell, she hadn’t gotten that far in the Alpha Quadrant before learning that. One couldn’t say the Ferengi were not a useful species to have around when it came to acquiring an education in financial matters. Certainly, these aliens were no Ferengi.

She took a deep breath and smiled charmingly at the merchant, reportedly the only one on the planet who could provide the supplies she required. “Twenty lenthra per kilogram, no more,” she said and put on the expression which said she would not be pushed any further.

The Cirrilean looked outraged but since he had done that plenty of times before, Janeway was unmoved. “We must have twenty-five,” he said, waving his hands for emphasis. “Any less and I will go broke.”

Janeway sincerely doubted that, just from the richness of his garments and the glitter of jewelry that hung in profusion from his four ears. She wondered if it was the ears which had the effect on a species’ sense of avarice. After all, ears were pretty significant in the Ferengi culture as well.

“Twenty,” she said in that firm tone that brokered no further opening for negotiation.

“Twenty-two and a half,” he countered, trying anyway.

“Twenty.” Janewayleaned back in her chair, crossing her arms across her chest and sticking her jaw out stubbornly.

The Cirrilean dotted his brow with a silken-like handkerchief. “You will steal the bread from my mouth. I agree, only because you are lost and alone in our space.”

Janeway narrowed her eyes. Dammit, that was too easy. He probably would have agreed to fifteen. Indeed, the gleam of satisfaction in the solid brown eyes let her know that he felt he had gotten the bargain he wished as he stood up and reached over to shake her hand.

Disgruntled, she shook it and watched as he left the room. She felt a keen gaze concentrated on her, and she flicked an irritated glance at Tuvok. “What?”

“It is irrelevant how much the supplies are,” the Vulcan said in his even tone. “The replicators can easily reproduce their form of currency without effort.”

Janeway waggled her finger at him. “That’s not the point. It’s the principal of the thing. I’m not going to pay more than things are worth.”

Tuvok raised an eyebrow slowly. “It occurs to me that you actually enjoy this negotiating.”

Janeway felt her lips twitch. “Honestly, Tuvok, you’re being silly. The Federation has moved beyond commerce. Still, this will be a useful skill to take home with me, especially the next time I run into a dispute with the Ferengi.”

Tuvok folded his hands neatly on the table. “You are aware of what they call beings who believe they are able to negotiate successfully with the Ferengi.”

Janeway blinked. “No, what?”

“Bankrupt.”

Janeway stared at him. “Was that a joke, Tuvok?”

“If you wish it to be,” he replied placidly.

She grinned and looked back at the door that swished open to admit the merchant. He handed her a piece of a plastic-like parchment.

“Affix your genetic seal,” he requested. “Take the receipt to the warehouse. They will provide what you need.”

Feeling a bit self-conscious, Janeway leaned forward to spit on the parchment, her saliva instantly absorbed in the space provided. He detached the bottom of it, also spat in the required place, and gave it to her. She accepted it gingerly between her forefinger and thumb, hoping she didn’t look as squeamish as she felt. Every once in awhile, she came across a custom or tradition in the Delta Quadrant that didn’t necessarily repulse her so much as make her a little nauseous. This had been one of them, but since this was the last stop, she supposed the worst was over. Which was good because she was in dire need of something to drink to restore some of the moisture in her mouth.

“A pleasure doing business with you,” she said, handing the receipt to Tuvok who accepted it without any apparent qualm and placing it in the pouch with all the rest they had collected that day.

“The pleasure was all mine, Captain Janeway.”

Janeway and Tuvok left his office, the captain assuming a dark expression. “Damn, I knew I should have gone with fifteen.”

Tuvok merely eyed her briefly and continued on. They left the building and Janeway was pleased to discover that the sun was still rather high in the sky. With any luck, they could drop the receipts off at the respective warehouses, contact the ship, and beam up the supplies in time for her to spend the remainder of the day with Seven. Her partner had taken the last shift of shore leave for just that purpose, and Janeway looked forward to spending a little quality time with Seven away from Voyager. She picked up her pace and Tuvok matched it without question, not even asking why she was in such a hurry.

She was stopped abruptly by a soft sound against a window of the shop she was passing. A gentle ticking of claws against a smooth surface drew her over, and she stopped, gazing at the five furry little faces which were peering anxiously at her through the glass.

“What are you doing, Captain?” Tuvok asked with a faint hint of disapproval.

“Wait here.”

He frowned, about to speak, but she did not waste time arguing with him. When she strode briskly into the shop, he was following close on her heels, and she crossed over to the window, examining the small creatures scampering about the box. They looked vaguely like a cross between a weasel and a kitten, their bodies elongated slightly with large rounded eyes, tufted ears and the silkiest hair the captain had ever seen, in various shades of blue and green. Janeway looked up at the proprietress who had perked up immediately at the entrance of possible customers.

“They’re adorable,” the captain said. “What are they?”

“They are called B’Rethna,” the female Cirrilean said, scooping one of them out, a fuzzy bundle of greenish fur that she handed to the captain.

“Be careful, Captain,” Tuvok warned, whipping out his tricorder and scanning the creature.

“They are not harmful,” the Cirrilean said, frowning at him. “They are a great favorite of children since they are so patient, loving and very gentle.”

“How much?” Janeway said, stroking the creature on its head with a fingertip, looking into its large dark eyes with total enchantment.

“Well, these have been here some time,” the proprietress replied slowly, with apparent reluctance. “They are almost too old to bond and would have to be released back into the wild or be destroyed. Because of that, I will give it to you for five lenthra.”

“Three,” Janeway responded automatically.

“Done,” the female said so promptly that for the second time in less than an hour, Janeway knew she had gotten the wrong end of the deal. She looked sour as the proprietress hustled off to get the receipt as well as a leash and collar.

The captain carried the little bundle in the crook of her arm as they exited the shop and she was keenly aware of Tuvok’s scrutiny as they resumed their course for the warehouses. Stubbornly, she kept her mouth shut, waiting him out.

“I am curious, Captain,” he said finally, no longer able to resist. “What is the purpose of acquiring this biological specimen?”

“They are compatible, right?” she said, a trifle anxiously. “To us and our environment?”

“My scans detected no harmful elements. That still does not explain your reason for purchasing it.”

“It’s for Naomi. Her birthday is coming up.” She lifted the creature and regarded it soberly. “She’s been moping around ever since I installed that rotating schedule for Jake’s play time. When she’s unhappy…”

Tuvok raised an eyebrow. “Seven is unhappy,” he finished. “I comprehend your reasoning now.”

Janeway blushed and avoided his gaze. “Seven’s been a little more sensitive to how things affect Naomi since we found out about … well, her inability to have children. I just thought that if Naomi had a pet of her own …” She trailed off, feeling inane though grateful that it was Tuvok with her and not Chakotay. The Vulcan would not mention it again once she had explained her reasoning. Her first officer would live off it for weeks at her expense with a series of well placed little needles when she least expected them.

“I find it to be a most … logical solution,” Tuvok said finally.

Janeway glanced at him. “I’m glad you think so, though I spent far too much.”

“The shopkeeper did mention that they were almost too old to be ‘bonded’,” Tuvok said slowly. “What did she mean?”

He looked expectantly at the captain, and Janeway looked back at him blankly. “Heavens, I don’t know,” she said with a sinking feeling in her stomach as she realized that she had been so caught up in the acquiring of Naomi’s gift in the hopes it would put a smile back on her partner’s face, she had neglected to get the details. She held the creature to her chest as she dug out the parchment the shopkeeper had given her, and examined the alien script in total bafflement. “There’s a whole list of instructions here that I’m sure can be translated once we’re back on Voyager. In the meantime, we’ll keep it in containment until the Doctor can go over it throughly.”

“Indeed,” he said dryly, and raised an eyebrow as the creature abruptly urinated down the front of the captain’s tunic.

“I’m sure he will be appropriately grateful for the opportunity.”

“B’Elanna.”

The chief engineer turned, cradling the small little blue bundle, anxiousness making her chest feel tight. Tom Paris, the ship’s helmsman, and Harry Kim, the operation officer, were pushing their way through the crowd toward her. Though she was less than thrilled to see Paris, it was more than offset by the relief she found in knowing she wasn’t alone in this.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked, a frown on his dark, handsome features at the same time Paris pointed at the creature and asked, “What’s that?”

“Seven’s gone,” she blurted, answering the first and ignoring the second.

“You mean, you two became separated?”

“No, I mean she promised to wait for me right here,” B’Elanna explained, gesturing with her elbow at the bench, her hands full with the creature who had seemed to have gotten over its fright and was now crawling over her in an agitated fashion, emitting several high pitched squeaks.

“Maybe she just went off to look at something,” Paris said, a lock of fair hair falling boyishly into his blue eyes.

“No, she promised,” B’Elanna responded stubbornly, trapping the creature on her shoulder with both hands. “She doesn’t promise something and just forget it. Besides, she left this behind unattended … and she’s not answering my hails.”

“What is it?” Harry asked, eyeing it skeptically.

“It’s called a ‘bar breath’ or something,” B’Elanna said impatiently. “What counts is that it’s Naomi’s birthday present.”

That focused both men’s attention. It was no secret on the ship how Seven felt about the young girl. Even if the Borg was so inclined to wander away from the chief engineer, she would never leave behind the child’s gift, particularly one that would potentially crawl away. Not unless she had no choice in the matter.

“How long ago?” Harry requested, looking worried now.

“I was only in the tavern a little while, no more than ten minutes,” B’Elanna said and glared daggers at Tom. He abruptly closed his mouth, forestalling whatever he had been about to say. “That was about five minutes ago.”

“She couldn’t have gone far,” Harry said, trying for a soothing tone. He looked around and spotted a uniform. “Excuse me, ma’am.”

The Cirrilean law enforcement agent who had been strolling by, stopped and regarded the aliens with a frown.

“Our friend has gone missing,” the young lieutenant explained. “Is it possible for us to ask some of your civilians if they might have seen anything?”

Having a local authority might help them get answers quicker, and B’Elanna looked at Harry approvingly, wishing she had thought of it. Of course, the ex-Maquis wasn’t used to thinking in terms of involving local law enforcement. Her form of questioning was usually more … aggressive though she hadn’t quite worked herself up to that stage before the two men had appeared.

The officer seemed agreeable, and with her help, the Voyager crew began to circulate through the crowd, asking questions, trying to find someone who might remember seeing an alien walk away from the B’Rethna.

It was a young child that finally responded. She had noticed the B’Rethna more than the alien, but she did see who the Borg had gone off with.

“It was a Seer.”

B’Elanna frowned. “A what?”

“A Seer,” the police officer explained. “This is the Festival of Future, and the Seers are out in force. A Seer can describe what lies in one’s future.” The officer hesitated. “Something very important must have been imminent for a Seer to have picked your friend out of the crowd and taken her for a reading.”

B’Elanna stifled the snort of disbelief that hovered on her lips. Instead, she centered a dark look on the officer. “Where would this Seer take her?”

“They have set up their own area for the duration of the festival. Your friend is well. She will most likely return here after the reading is complete.”

“We’d like to find that out for ourselves.”

The officer frowned. “You cannot interrupt a reading. It would be wiser for you to wait here.”

“I think we’ll just wait in the Seer’s area,” the Klingon countered stubbornly. She took a step toward the officer. The officer half raised her baton, almost to ward off the Klingon. “Where is it?”

“B’Elanna,” Harry offered warningly. The engineer ignored him. The Klingon didn’t like not knowing where Seven was, and she didn’t buy into this mystical mumbo jumbo at all. She knew for a fact that the Borg wouldn’t either. Seven wouldn’t have gone off for this sort of thing, not willingly. There had to be more here.

“You must wait here,” the officer said, this time with a note of finality.

B’Elanna yelped as the creature she was holding against her shoulder abruptly dug its claws into her neck and bit her ear, causing her to stumble forward into the officer. The police agent, who had became more agitated as B’Elanna grew more aggressive in her stance, shoved her back with the baton.

“Settle down,” the officer snapped.

B’Elanna, who was staggering around, trying to pry the creature’s needle sharp teeth from her earlobe, trod heavily on a few of the crowd that surrounded them, making them say words that were undoubtedly the local version of curses. They pushed her away into others that set up a chain reaction as Harry and Tom tried to help B’Elanna, pushing forward to her, shoved around as the crowd grew thicker.

B’Elanna felt the gush of hot blood stream down her neck as she finally removed creature from her ear and she snarled, thrusting the nearby bodies away from herself. She didn’t know who threw the first punch, she was only sure it wasn’t her … this time … but she was certainly aware when the punches started being directed at her.

She growled when she saw Harry take a shot to the side of the head, and she bulled her way over there, tossing aside a few people in her path. It was turning into a typical brawl, half the people trying to vacate the scene even as more pushed forward, trying to see. B’Elanna supposed it didn’t help that they were just outside a tavern. The people exiting were more than ready to jump in to what was happening even though they had no clue what was going on, which only increased the agitation.

The three Voyager crewmembers put their backs to each other in the best Starfleet manner, using their training to keep the Cirrileans at bay who seemed to feel this was all the aliens’ fault.

“This is all your fault, B’Elanna,” Tom snapped, spitting out blood as he ducked the second punch and knocked the Cirrilean back with a left hook. “You just had to start something.”

“Shut up, Paris,” B’Elanna snarled, trying not to dance. The creature, after biting her ear, had darted down her tunic front and was now clinging to her sweater just below her breasts. She hoped with everything she had that it wouldn’t take another chunk out of the nearest piece of available flesh.

She blocked a roundhouse swing at her head, and kicked the offender in the belly. She was pleased to discover that the Cirrileans folded just as quick as Humans did when she did that. Then she saw stars as someone from her right side got in a lucky shot, and she cursed at Paris who was supposed to be covering that side. More confusion occured as suddenly there were louder yells and whistles, and then a sea of Cirrilean uniforms appeared as the brawl magically melted away.

Breathing heavily, B’Elanna brought her hands down and stood passively as the law enforcement agents surrounded them. Putting a bridle on her fury, she allowed them to grab her, realizing that fun was fun, but there was a point where she was expected to cease and desist, and it had finally come to that. The crowd of uniforms parted, and her heart hit her boots as she watched the Captain and Lt. Commander Tuvok approach.

“You’d better have a good explanation for this,” Paris muttered in an aside.

“Believe me, I have the one that will work,” she mumbled back.

The captain stopped in front of her, her face like stone, her eyes glittering chips of granite, and B’Elanna took a deep breath.

“Did you start this trouble?” Janeway’s voice was pure Arctic chill, each word bitten off like a shattered icicle falling from the eaves.

“They did,” B’Elanna responded crisply. “Seven’s been taken.”

She watched as the stony chips turned to dark clouds of thunder, sparking lightning, and B’Elanna had no doubt that the real trouble had just begun.

For the Cirrileans.

Seven blinked in confusion, unsure of how she had come to this place, aware that she was forgetting something fairly important, but unable to put her finger on exactly what. Her mind felt like it was wrapped in cotton, and it took an effort to realize she was sitting in a chair, cushions wrapped around her body with remarkable comfort. Across the table littered with candles, a Cirrilean woman regarded her with bright emerald eyes. The colorfully dressed female had a deck of oversized cards that filled her hands.

Seven swallowed. “Where am I?” she asked in a rusty voice.

“You are safe here,” the woman said in melodic tones. “There is a great darkness looming. I saw it easily, hovering above you as you sat on the bench.”

Seven frowned. The bench. There was something about that she needed to address, but it kept slipping away from her.

“Explain.”

“I shall reveal your futures to you,” the woman said.

“‘Futures’?” Seven echoed, quirking an eyebrow. “I was unaware there was more than one for me.”

“There are many, but two of such significant difference diverging from a single moment that I could not help but see them in your aura.”

She placed a card down on the table. Seven looked at it and saw at an image of some indecipherable being holding a set of what resembled scales.

“A decision,” the woman said, her voice lowering, threading around the Borg. “One made soon which shall result … how? Choose a card.”

“I beg your pardon?” Seven raised an eyebrow.

“Choose a card,” the woman snapped impatiently.

Unable to resist, Seven reached out, hesitated, and then selected a card at random, flipping it over as she placed it on the table above the card already there. It was dark, black, a humanoid skeleton standing upright, a dark cloak wrapped about it as it held a long implement with a blade that curved away, sharp and deadly.

Seven caught her breath, her heart pounding, fear flooding through her though she did not understand why.

And she was abruptly elsewhere.

The captain’s blood spilt hot over her arms and hands as she carried Kathryn to sickbay. The transporter system was down, Voyager’s bridge crew struggling to restore the ship’s integrity field. Seven’s breath came in stabs of agony, her ribs aching from where she had been thrown into the aft tactical station, but she dared not let it slow her. She staggered through the doors into the medical bay that was pure chaos, the biobeds filled with casualties and more arriving every moment.

“Doctor,” she cried as she carried her partner across the room.

He looked up from a patient and it seemed his face blanched when he saw who Seven bore in her arms.

“Here, Seven,” he said urgently as Sek, his medical assistant, helped a less injured patient off the bed to a nearby chair. Seven laid Janeway down with exquisite care, feeling helpless and frightened beyond belief as she saw how Kathryn’s head lolled impossibly limp on her neck.

“Step aside, Seven,” the Doctor instructed, nudging the Borg away as he bent over Voyager’s commander.

Seven stood with her hands clenched, watching as a sick fear rose in her throat like acid, her breath coming in pants. It seemed an eternity before the Doctor paused in his ministrations, shot her a look, then as if requiring an effort beyond measure, he straightened and shut off the machines.

“No,” Seven said in a barely audible voice.

“I have other patients who need me,” the Doctor said, able to spare only a few seconds. “I’m sorry Seven. More than you can know.”

“But my nanoprobes,” she began. “We can restore her–”

“There’s too much damage, Seven,” he said, reaching out to hold onto her arms tightly. “There’s nothing to restore.”

“No,” she screamed as she struggled against his grip and it was only the fact that he was a hologram that her left hand was not ripping his right arm off at the shoulder. “I have to go to her. I have to save her.”

“Sek,” he cried.

Seven frantically tried to pull away from his grip, tried to lean away from the other hologram who pressed a hypospray against the Borg’s neck. Then there was only darkness.

When she woke, the sickbay was quiet, the lights brought down to indicate night watch. Seven blinked and what had happened crashed in on her like a flood, agony as exquisite as a knife’s edge slicing through her without mercy. She sat up, sweeping the sheet away from her as she got to her feet, ignoring it as it fell to the floor. She looked around, seeing only other sleeping patients and the shadowed forms of the Doctor and Sek in the office. They were not looking her way and she knew they had thought that she would remain unconscious much longer, underestimating the ability of the nanoprobes to purge her system of the drug.

She left the bed and walking as if asleep, she went into the auxiliary room where she knew what she would find. There were sheet covered forms here, the glitter of stasis fields around them, awaiting their final disposal after a respectful memorial service. There was also a stasis tube, the same type as those the crew had slept in during the ship’s crossing of a nebula infused with deadly radiation. But the inhabitant of this tube was not asleep.

Shivering, Seven touched the controls and the plexiglass window slid back, allowing her to look down into the still face of her partner. Unlike the others, Janeway’s remains would not be shot into the nearest star. Instead, they would be carried reverently for the rest of Voyager’s journey, returned to Earth no matter how long it would take to get home. The ship … her crew … owed the captain that much.

Seven’s fingers trembled as she touched Kathryn’s cheek, feeling not the warmth of smooth skin, but chill flesh, waxy, almost unreal. This was not Kathryn, not her partner. Not the woman Seven had loved with every fiber of her being, with every molecule that comprised who she was. That person was gone, leaving behind her partner without so much as a chance to say good-bye.

The Borg’s heart shattered within her, into so many distinct and individual shards of pain that she knew that they would never be able to be reunited, would never again beat with any semblance of human feeling.

“Kathryn,” she whispered, a breath of complete and utter despair passing through lips that would never again know her kiss, would never again say the three small words that had meant everything.

Janeway was gone, and Seven knew she would never hold her again, would never be a part of her life, would never have her be a part of hers. The mere contemplation of such a life was totally and completely unacceptable to Seven. She could not bear to exist with such a gaping wound in her soul, could not imagine existing another moment in this terrible reality.

Moving silently, barely able to think coherently, she left the sickbay through the aft exit into an auxiliary corridor, moving like a wraith through the ship until she reached the nearest airlock. Mechanically, she cycled the lock, after disabling the alert to the bridge, and stepped inside, shutting the door behind her. Her fingers shook so hard that she could barely key in the commands to begin the decompression sequence, and the hiss of escaping air was like a blessed relief as she sank to the floor, leaning her head back against the hull. It would be over soon. The air would be completely removed, leaving a vacuum that would activate the outer seal, opening the interior to the emptiness of space. By that time, she would be unconscious from the lack of oxygen, and death would be quick.

“Annika, what are you doing?”

Seven raised her eyes with an effort, time stretching interminably as the air grew thin, her lungs instinctively sucking for every molecule of oxygen, unaware of the brain’s conscious decision to stop the pain. Kathryn, whole and hearty stood there, looking down at her with a distinctly disturbed expression on her classic features. The analytical part of Seven’s mind noted that the lack of air was not disturbing her partner at all, and the Borg decided that this must be a hallucination of sorts, the desperate illusion of an oxygen starved brain. It pleased her and she smiled, content that her last seconds would not be as lonely as she feared, that she would in fact, not die alone after all.

“You can’t do this,” Kathryn said, kneeling next to her, raising her chin with her fingers, looking into her face with those marvelous warm blue eyes touched with just a hint of grey. “You promised me, Annika. You can’t give up now. I won’t let you.”

Seven found it difficult to speak, her throat thick and full.

“Do not ask this of me,” she mumbled finally.

“I don’t want you to do this, Annika,” Kathryn said softly. “You have your whole life ahead of you.”

Seven shook her head weakly, lolling on her neck. “Not without you.” Tears filled her eyes. “Please Kathryn. Don’t make me live without you. Take me with you.”

“You will be with me … someday,” Kathryn promised gently and it seemed her face took on a glow. “But not now, my darling. There is still too much for you to do, to see, to experience. Please don’t do this.”

Seven’s eyes slid shut. “Too late,” she whispered, hearing the clunk of the door, knowing her time was up.

They found her unconscious. Barely able to override the decompression cycle in time, the group led by Lt. Torres who had staggered from her quarters where she had been sprawled in a drunken slumber. The chief engineer never told another living soul what had awakened her, that she had sat up abruptly with the words of the captain fresh in her ears: “She’s in airlock twelve, B’Elanna. Save her from herself.”

B’Elanna knew that was impossible because the captain was dead and Seven was in sickbay, sedated from the horrible shock, all of which had caused her drunken stupor in the first place. Yet, somehow the Klingon rose from her bed, tapping her communicator to alert the others as she raced through the corridors to arrive barely in time to save her friend.

Who was not the slightest bit grateful.

Seven was kept in sickbay for a week, then tentatively released to resume her duties though she refused to go back to the cabin where she and Kathryn had lived. Every member of the crew kept her under surveillance, sensing that to lose her as well would be too much for Voyager to bear, but the young woman did not attempt to commit suicide again.

She moved into cargo bay two where Neelix set up a cot for her without being asked. She did not feel anything, did not care that the crew was looking out for her. It was unnecessary for them to be so concerned. Kathryn did not want her to die. Seven would do her best not to disappoint the woman she loved, just as she always had, though she was completely unable to understand what she had done so wrong to be condemned to such a horrible existence. Seven functioned, but as a machine functioned, hardly sleeping and eating, spending all her conscious hours at work at her console.

It was the cruelest of ironies that she made the final breakthrough in the slipstream drive less than three weeks later. In the dark of night, the equations she had been searching for so long suddenly became clear to her, and without emotion, she sent her findings to the bridge, and then lay down on the cot, closed her eyes, and surrendered to unconsciousness.

Voyager’s return to Earth was a celebration tempered only slightly by the fact that the ship had returned without its captain. Seven was immediately claimed by Starfleet Command, kept in isolation by Starfleet Intelligence as they picked her brain clean about the Borg Collective. She did whatever was requested of her, ignoring the passing of time as the debriefings went on and on, and the rest of the universe moved on without her. Then one day, Harry Kim, now wearing three pips, two gold and one dark, came to her and told her that Voyager was being overhauled to be sent back into space, having been held in the Utopia Planetia shipyards until Starfleet decided its final fate. He also told her that if she did not finish cleaning out the captain’s quarters, then Starfleet would have to, and perhaps Seven would come to regret that later even if she didn’t yet feel ready to do it now.

Having acquired all the information her Borg brain could offer, Starfleet Command readily released Seven into Harry’s custody, and she accompanied him out to where their old vessel orbited Mars, passively awaiting its next incarnation. Kim remained behind on the shuttle as she beamed on board, the corridors echoing with cold silence as she walked through them to the door of the captain’s quarters that hissed open with unnatural loudness.

She faltered as she entered, unable to stop the memories from crashing down on her, the pain walled away suddenly set free to spread through her without restraint. She put her hand on the kitchenette counter that was covered by a thin layer of dust, blinking back the tears with a supreme effort as she kept the sobs from escaping her chest, refusing to break down; afraid that once she did, she simply wouldn’t be able to recover.

It took a few moments before she was able to look about, noting that the tables, the shelves, and the work desks had been cleared of ornamentation, and she realized that all the things she and Kathryn had acquired had been packed away. She discovered several shipping containers sitting in the corner where Jake had kept his toys, his bed and the personal device that she had so painstakingly trained him to use. It occurred to her suddenly that she wasn’t even sure where the dog was now, and she tried to comprehend what had happened to him. She supposed finally that the Wildmans had taken him, or that one of the crew who had been assigned to take care of him had adopted him. She hoped he was happy where ever he had ended up, though there was a part of her that didn’t really care much.

She steeled herself and went into the bedroom, relieved to see the bed stripped of linens with only the bare mattress left. She doubted that it was even the mattress they had slept on, since ship’s stores was sure to have replaced it when she had moved out. The quarters were just so empty, devoid of all signs that she and the captain had ever been here, and she found that she was grateful, relieved that perhaps this would not be as difficult as she had anticipated.

For several long moments, she looked out the window above the bed at the stars, before drifting into the ensuite for a final check, just to make sure that nothing had been left. She was surprised to see the closet doors held open, and supremely horrified to find that not everything had been packed after all. She supposed that this was a measure of respect on the part of whoever had packed up, that no one had wanted to touch these, that perhaps they had wanted to leave them for her to deal with. As she stood there staring at the long white wedding gown, and the white and black Starfleet dress uniform hanging limply from their respective hangers, both covered with a fine sprinkling of dust, it seemed the most unspeakable sort of cruelty instead.

The few remaining pieces of her heart which she hadn’t even know were left, shriveled into tiny bits that were so small as to be nonexistent.

Tears spilt from her eyes as she blindly reached out, taking the Starfleet dress whites into her arms as she sank to the floor, curling up on the cold tiles, burying her face into the stiff cloth that still smelled of Kathryn even after all these months, still had the captain’s fragrance clinging to the fabric. Seven sobbed until she ached, cried until she could not breathe, until there was nothing left inside but the terrible emptiness that was her only legacy of a love she thought would never end. She could not hug the garments close enough to her body, could not keep the reality from tearing her soul to shreds, could not control the terrible weeping until finally her body simply stopped on its own, too drained to feel any more emotion.

Much later, she was able to place the carefully folded outfits neatly into the top of a container filled with the rest of their clothing. Then she placed the Starfleet comm badge she had been given for just this purpose on the top of it, instructing Utopia Planetia control to beam the stack of containers away to a storage locker that had been arranged on Mars where she had been staying while undergoing her debriefings. Then she sat down on the chair and looked around with eyes that were as dark and still as a stagnant pond in the moonlight.

For just a second, she thought she could hear the echoes of another time, of a life where passion reigned and happiness was the norm, and she listened intently, straining to catch the slightest sense of what she had once had. But there was only silence and defeated, she dropped her eyes, looking at her hands folded neatly on her lap, realizing that she had no idea what she should do next. This was no longer her home, but she did not know where she could go to find a new one … or even if she wanted to. She only knew that what she did want was denied her, that she was not allowed to carry it out because by doing so, she would let Kathryn down in some terrible, final way.

On the trip from Mars to the shipyards, Harry had filled her in on the rest of Voyager’s crew, how they were now scattered about the quadrant, all finding some way to move on. While the Starfleet crewmembers picked up on careers interrupted by their diverted tour of the Delta Quadrant, the Maquis had been pardoned through a deal made with Chakotay. Those who wished to continue with Starfleet were commissioned and spread around a fleet severely depleted by the war against the Dominion. In the meantime, Voyager’s former first officer served a short prison term, taking all the crimes his people had committed against the Federation on his shoulders. The Doctor and Sek were claimed by Starfleet Medical where their respective matrixes were being studied with fascination, and not a little revulsion. The last time Harry had seen Tom Paris, it was in a bar in Paris where the former helmsman was so drunk he could barely speak, and when he finally became abusive, Harry had left in disgust. Tuvok had returned to Vulcan and his family. Kim did not know where Neelix had gone after Samantha Wildman was reunited with her husband. B’Elanna disappeared not long after their return to the Federation, and no news of her existed at all.

Seven tried to find it in herself to care about this, but these people were just reminders of a life she could no longer have. She did not think she would be able to care about anything ever again. She swallowed hard and stood up, touching the communicator on her breast, signaling the shuttle. As the sparkles filled her eyes, the last thing she saw was the couch where she and Kathryn had spent so many evenings talking, drinking wine and being together, feeling the sense of empty finality creep over her like an inevitable tide, inexorable, unstoppable.

She asked Harry to take her to the huge space dock that orbited the northern hemisphere of Earth. There, a hundred ships left and departed for the outer reaches of the Federation every day, and she had some vague idea of finding one, of traveling as far and as long as she could in the hopes of one day being able to leave all the memories behind. Harry dropped her off at the outer ring and wished her well before heading for his new ship and his new posting. Seven spent several hours walking around the hangers and docking bays, looking at the various vessels and trying to make a decision as to where she should go. It was so difficult to concentrate, her mind occupied with the memory of the story Kathryn had told her about coming here as a little girl on her very first trip off her home planet. In the early hours of night watch, the Borg found herself inevitably drawn to one of the huge windows that looked down on the blue and white sphere her partner had called home.

She didn’t know how long she watched the planet, standing silent and alone, only peripherally conscious of the various people passing by who took note of the solitary form, but did not approach. As the Earth slowly revolved, Seven found she was picking out the various landmarks that Kathryn has shown her so many times on the viewscreen in astrometrics. When the North American continent finally swam into view, her eyes centered on the area she knew was Indiana. Suddenly, for the immediate future, at least, she had a destination, needing desperately to make a final good-bye before taking the next transport out.

She did not question the fact that she could go anywhere by merely requesting it, unaware that the comm badge she had been issued had been coded by Admiral Nechayev who, despite her great distaste for the Borg in general, had been incredibly moved by the story told by the crew of Voyager about this young woman and her love for the doomed captain. For the time being, Seven was granted carte blanc, the Admiral content that the heartbroken young woman would hardly attempt to misuse it. Seven only knew that when she went to the transporter area, and asked to be beamed down to a specific set of coordinates on Earth, the technician merely checked her ID and carried out her request, keying in the controls to send her on her way.

Seven materialized by a small, white structure, the smell of summer and growing things strong in her nostrils as she took her first breath of Indiana air. A warm breeze danced over the emerald stocks of corn in the gently rolling hills around her, and she could hear the lazy hum of insects in the grass. It was late afternoon, the sun low in the azure sky, and she walked to the small cemetery on the other side of the building, steadfastly refusing to look to the rear of the church where a rose garden bloomed brightly in the summer sun. She strode among the various graves, finding a path that led up a low hill. Searching the stones intently, she finally found it beneath the statuesque trunk of an oak tree, shadowed in the cool shade of the overhanging limbs, standing not too far away from another that bore the Admiral’s name.

Seven knelt down beside the squared grey stone, placing her hand against the cold granite, tracing the markings there. She had not come to the memorial service even though she had been granted permission to attend. Instead, she had spent the day answering questions and trying very hard not to think about anything at all. That night, she had lay on her narrow bunk and dreamed images of a time and place that left her alone and aching the next morning when she awoke, clutching the pillow that, for one precious moment, had been Kathryn in her arms. Now, with blurred eyes, she read the inscription, simultaneously simple and profound, just as her partner had been.

Kathryn Anne Janeway

Devoted daughter,

Adored sister,

Beloved wife.

‘For I have dipt into the future,

far as human eye could see;

Saw the Vision of the World,

and all the wonder that would be….’

Seven’s fingers shook as she traced the fourth line, and she leaned forward, resting her forehead against the cold stone. The sobs overwhelmed her though she had believed she had cried all there was to cry and only now realized that she had not even begun. She knew Kathryn was not here, not really, but her remains, that body which she had held so close to her, which contained the being Seven had loved so much, rested beneath the cool green turf and the small arch of lattice where the red roses bravely climbed. For the Borg, it was all she had left.

Seven could smell the sweet raspberry scent of the fading blooms and the scent triggered the memory of the single red rose that would wait for her every morning in astrometrics. Why did you make me promise, Kathryn, she asked voicelessly to the fragrant air, her face pressed against the smooth rock, her tears sliding silently down the grey surface. Why are you making me live like this?

“Annika.”

The throaty voice was more than she thought she could bear, and she swallowed hard, gulping for air against the sobs. It took a few moments before she was composed enough to stand up, to turn around to face the level grey eyes of Phoebe Janeway.

“Father Davis saw you arrive and contacted the house,” the tall, slender woman said softly, her long, curly hair a dark red in the setting sun. “We’ve been waiting for you, little sister.”

Seven looked down at the ground. “She’s not here,” she said in an almost inaudible voice, her soul bleeding. “Not really. I hoped she would be somehow … but she isn’t.” Her voice caught and she gasped, the severity of the pain stabbing through her catching her unprepared for its viciousness, having to wrap her arms around her ribs in the hopes it would keep her from flying completely apart.

“No,” Phoebe said, her voice was impossibly gentle, her face warm with compassion. “But we are, Mother and I. Come home, Annika. Come home with me and heal.”

Seven shook her head. “I cannot. It is not possible for me to heal.”

“Then just come home,” Phoebe said, her voice persuasive. “Come home to where she would have brought you if she had been able. Then we can decide what to do next.”

Carefully she stretched out her hand and the Borg stared at it for a long moment.

Finally, Seven of Nine stepped forward and accepted the grip which pulled her into a warm embrace, not able to see what lay ahead, knowing only that she was weary beyond belief and that perhaps for a little while, she could rest. She closed her eyes and lay her head on the shoulder of Kathryn’s younger sister, holding onto Phoebe for dear life as the tears fell fast and thick once more.

Then together, hand in hand, they walked away from the small mound on the hill as the sun set red and gold on the flat, Indiana horizon.

Seven jerked away from the hand holding hers, staring at the Seer with horror, the echoes of heartache and despair penetrating her chest like a dagger, making her heart pound and her head ache.

“That is my future?” she said, gasping hard for breath, grasping for some sense of control.

“One,” the Seer said. “Choose another card. See the alternative.”

“No,” Seven said, cringing away. “I do not wish to see anymore.”

The Seer’s hand snaked out, grabbed the young woman’s wrist and pulled her hand to the cards. “Choose,” she hissed.

Despite her best effort to control them, Seven’s fingers closed over the next card and she pulled it from the deck fanned out in the Seer’s hand, turning it and laying next to the dark card. This card was almost obscene in its contrast, colorful, a brightly blooming tree with two small beings dancing about it.

And Seven was elsewhere.

“Dammit, Annika, I can’t take this anymore,” Kathryn snarled. “You’ve gone too far. This time, I’m leaving you for good.”

Seven did not bother to glance over at the rotund form of her partner, unimpressed by the threat as she worked on the data contained in her padd. For one thing, she had heard it several times over the past few months, increasing in frequency the closer Kathryn approached her due date. She understood that Kathryn did not really mean it … after all, inevitably, within the next breath, Kathryn would be professing the most undying love. With her hormones in an uproar, the captain’s moods were all over the place, and the Borg had finally just adapted. Of course, Seven also knew that Janeway was entirely incapable of going anywhere at the moment.

After a very long pause when she had heard nothing further from that direction other than a few, frustrated grunts, she finally raised her eyes to peer across the bedroom. She quirked an eyebrow, firmly pressed her lips together and drew her leg up underneath her, reclining against the pillows at the head of the bed as she regarded Kathryn, who was doing her level best to pry her oversized body out of her chair.

“Do you require some assistance?” she asked after a few more moments, with the greatest of politeness.

Kathryn just glared at her and redoubled her efforts. Unfortunately, the chair was constructed so that it was far too low to get out of comfortably at the best of times, and Seven honestly had no idea why Kathryn insisted on sitting on it. The captain hadn’t been able to get out of it on her own since her fourth month.

Finally, Kathryn settled back, exhausted, blowing a strand of auburn hair off her perspiration soaked forehead.

“Get over here,” she snapped.

Seven gracefully uncoiled from the bed and strolled over to her partner, the soft whisper of breeze from the window by the chair stirring the curtains. She carefully reached down and put her hands beneath her partner’s arms, pulling her from the low cushion and holding her upright as Janeway tottered uncertainly on splayed feet.

“Very well,” the Borg said, trying not to show she was amused. “Tomorrow night, you may have some.”

Startled, Kathryn looked at her. “What?”

Seven nodded. “I spoke with the Doctor, and he said that caffeine would not harm the babies at this point, so tomorrow night, during the party, Phoebe is going to make her own blend and you may have an entire cup.”

“Oh, Annika,” Kathryn breathed, all soft and yielding in the Borg’s arms all of a sudden. “Really?”

“I promise,” Seven said seriously.

Janeway offered her a tremulous smile, then it faded, becoming a frown suddenly. “Why not tonight?” she asked, her eyes growing steely.

Seven smiled faintly. “Because I removed all the coffee from the house two months ago, not to mention making a request to all the local shops not to deliver it here. Phoebe will have to bring the ingredients with her when she arrives tomorrow morning.”

Kathryn sighed, and hugged Seven as best she could with the rounded belly between them. “I know I’m being a bitch, darling,” she mumbled into the Borg’s shoulder.

“You are not,” Seven said softly, hugging her back tenderly. “You are simply tired … and lack agility which frustrates you.”

“So I take it out on you,” Kathryn said, a touch shamefully.

“Yes, but that is my role. I do not mind.”

Kathryn smiled bashfully. “You shouldn’t have to take my bad moods. I’m sorry, Annika. I honestly thought I would handle … all this, better than I have.”

“It will not be for much longer,” Seven soothed, rubbing her back gently.

Privately, she was very glad they had decided to go with a multiple birth to acquire their desired offspring rather than two separate pregnancies. Seven didn’t think she could tolerate going through any more with her partner.

“It is late,” she added quietly. “I will be helping Gretchen prepare for the celebration most of the day. You require your rest. We should go to bed.”

Kathryn sighed and nodded, taking the offered hand as Seven led her into the bathroom where the Borg helped her prepare for bed, assisting Janeway into her nightgown even though the captain was not so awkward that she could not do this herself. It was just easier when Seven helped, and the younger woman was gratified to be able to contribute to her partner’s comfort in this manner.

Though it had been a fairly easy pregnancy so far, the natural restrictions on the normally athletic Janeway were compounded greatly by her having to leave her command a month earlier than anticipated. Seven did not think she would ever forget the expression on the Doctor’s face when he discovered that Janeway had been spacewalking while leading a rescue team to recover a crewmember in trouble, her rounded belly protruding beneath the thick space suit. Seven had been equally appalled, but as she was the crewmember in question, she hadn’t been in a position to prevent it as she would have otherwise been.

“Do you think Chakotay will be able to make it?” Janeway asked wistfully as they returned to the bedroom. The next day would see the second anniversary of Voyager’s triumphant return to the Alpha Quadrant through the Jarvis wormhole, and both of them were looking forward to seeing all their old friends. Janeway had hoped that she would be able to present her children to her old crew, rather than still hauling them around inside her huge belly, but apparently, her offspring had other plans. She was now one and a half weeks overdue.

“I believe so,” Seven told her as she pulled back the blankets, and stood by protectively as Janeway eased into bed rather like an Excelsior class vessel sliding into a docking port. “My last information had the Yeager entering the Terran system this morning. Though his debriefings will keep him busy, he did contact Neelix to say he would definitely be here tomorrow night.”

Janeway sighed and settled against the mattress, trying to find a comfortable position. “It will be good to see him again. I miss having him as my first officer.”

“I’ll be sure to inform Tuvok,” Seven said dryly as she slipped in next to her spouse.

Janeway poked her sharply in the side. “You’ll do no such thing,” she warned. “It’s not nice to tease a pregnant woman. I’m very fragile.”

Seven raised an eyebrow. It had taken the Doctor, the Borg and Janeway’s Vulcan first officer, combining their best arguments, to convince Janeway to accept an earlier maternity leave rather than continuing to run courier missions for Starfleet Command while seven and a half months pregnant. The Borg supposed that even that wouldn’t have worked had not Voyager been about to undergo a complete overhaul in order to install the new, fully modified transwarp drive. Future missions would see Federation vessels able to travel through the Delta Quadrant at will, this time as explorers rather than lost wanderers, and Janeway had been the first to volunteer herself and Voyager for the new technology. It was as if she needed to completely conquer the area of space that had been such a trial to her for so many years.

Seven reached over and gently hugged Kathryn around the neck, kissing her gently on the temple. “You are about as fragile as the duranium hull of Voyager.”

Janeway smiled. “Hmm, it seems to me that duranium sink counter wasn’t too strong … not in your hands.”

“You are safe in my hands,” Seven assured her, smiling at the shared memory. Then she released her as Kathryn shifted, attempting to find her position. At this stage, it was hard for Janeway to find a comfortable way to sleep, and a lot of recent nights found the pair of them in a reclining position against the head of the bed, Seven supporting Janeway as she slumbered in her arms, watching her peaceful face as the soft sounds of the spring night wafting through the window, along with the smell of growing things.

After finally convincing Janeway to take off the full year of leave she was entitled to, the couple had returned to this small wood frame house in the Indiana agricultural park where Kathryn had grown up. Gretchen had been thrilled to have her daughter home, along with her as yet unborn grandchildren, and together with Seven, she had tried to make it as easy as possible for the captain who was missing her ship, and chaffing at her enforced inactivity.

Janeway struggled over onto her side, facing away from Seven. That meant she wanted her partner to wrap herself around her as best she could, which Seven obligingly did. Janeway was considerably more than the armful she used to be, but the young woman did not mind in the slightest. She placed her palm over the rounded tummy, her Borg enhanced left hand easily picking up the flutters within, the dual heartbeats, feeling the same sense of awe she always did.

“Annika,” Kathryn whispered.

“Yes, Kathryn,” Seven responded.

“Do you think … something’s wrong?” The captain’s voice was tiny in the night.

“Because you are almost two weeks overdue?” Seven snuggled close so that her lips were right next to her spouse’s ear. “Not at all. The Doctor said that can happen in a first pregnancy.” She smiled and nuzzled Kathryn’s hair. “I do not blame them. I would not wish to leave your body either.”

Janeway laughed sleepily, with a touch of relief. “Well, this crew had better disembark soon. I’ll need a complete overhaul myself before I return to Voyager.” She hesitated. “Are you still certain you want to come with me so soon?”

Seven smiled. “Kathryn, we need to be together. Our children will thrive on Voyager, just as Naomi did. Better, because they will have each other to grow up with.”

Janeway shifted uncomfortably. “Not if they’re anything like Phoebe and I. It’ll be a battle zone. The Borg will be a breeze in comparison.”

“I am sure they shall be fine.”

They had gone over this discussion many times before, and from many directions. At first, Seven had thought Kathryn was trying to get out of their agreement to keep the family together, but gradually she had come to realize that Janeway was just very insecure when it came to her children, as well as her ability to make them happy. The captain needed to be repeatedly reassured that she wasn’t making a mistake by taking her family along on her missions, even though she was determined not to be the sort of absentee parent her father was. She also worried that she was trying to have it all, when perhaps it wasn’t possible; maintaining command of Voyager with her spouse at her side, leading an exciting life in Starfleet exploration while remaining in the loving arms of her family.

Perhaps they couldn’t have it all, Seven thought privately, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t try. If it did prove to be too dangerous, then she would return here with the children to raise them until they were of an age to make their own decision about where they wanted to be.

Kathryn made a soft sound, jerking slightly, and Seven’s arm tightened.

“Are you all right?”

“Mmm,” Janeway murmured. “They’re just a little lively tonight. They’ll settle down eventually.” She paused. “You know, coffee would make them quieter.”

Seven snorted with derision at such a blatent falsehood, and felt Janeway elbow her admonishingly in the ribs. The matter of the coffee had caused some spirited arguments when Seven deemed the liquid potentially harmful to their offspring even as Janeway utilized every method she could come up with to acquire a cup … only to see it snatched away at the last second by the Borg. Seven had not been able to keep Kathryn completely away from the noxious fluid, but she was content that she had cut Janeway’s caffeine level way down, and the constant battle of wits provided the captain with something to concentrate on other than being away from her ship.

“Annika,” Janeway murmured sleepily. “I love you.”

Seven kissed her ear. “I love you too, Kathryn. Go to sleep if you can. Tomorrow will be a big day.”

Seven adored being in Gretchen Janeway’s kitchen. It was large and filled with sunlight, the aromas of spice and warm food a constant presence in the air. The Borg thought that one could stand in the doorway and acquire a satisfying and delicious meal just from the fragrance. The spacious counters and cabinets contained every utensil and food preparation appliance that could be found, and Seven, from the first moment she set foot in it upon returning to Earth, had been in absolute heaven. Gretchen was thrilled to have such an attentive and eager pupil, which had amused Kathryn greatly, the Starfleet captain suggesting that perhaps her mother had finally gotten the daughter she was meant to … something to which the older woman totally agreed.

Seven was intently measuring out her ingredients, fully occupied with adding just the right amount of spice to the casseroles that were to provide the main course for the evenings festivities. This was the first time she had been allowed to prepare this particular dish after finally being granted the secret recipe by a suitably serious Gretchen, and the Borg was taking extreme care to be exact. She wanted to be absolutely perfect under the gentle gaze of her mentor, who also happened to be her mother-in-law.

Phoebe had finally arrived and was perched on a stool, dividing her time between teasing Seven unmercifully about her domestic skills … an onus Seven was apparently expected to carry as the ‘little sister’ … and needling Kathryn about her apparent inability to do something so simple as give birth in a timely and efficient manner. Kathryn, perched somewhat gingerly in a chair at the kitchen table, was giving back as good as she was getting, wondering when Phoebe was going to get a ‘real job’ within the next millennium, even as she continued to try to wheedle a cup of coffee out of her before the party.

Seven looked up briefly at one point as the two women burst into laughter, drawing their mother into it, and the vision of the three women together, all of them loving Seven without reservation, afforded the Borg the knowledge that there could be no better existence than this. Their love and happiness surrounded her, a palpable joy at being part of this family filling her; something that she had only dreamed of on Voyager, and could never have imagined as a drone.

“Honestly, Mother,” Kathryn said, revisiting a very old argument, “I simply want to know why you and Annika are doing all this work. The replicator would take care of it with a fraction of the time and effort.”

“But it wouldn’t be as good,” Gretchen insisted with gentle good humor. “Tell me, Kathryn, would your conclusions from your engineering experiments be as personally satisfying if you allowed automated drones to do it all?”

“That’s different,” Kathryn said stubbornly. “Science is hands on so that a researcher can get the proper perspective of the conclusion.”

“Cooking is very scientific.” Seven flicked a look at Phoebe. “As well as artistic. It requires experimentation and care with the measurements, as well as a certain creativity in attempting to explore new avenues. In the end, I find the results are far more satisfying and fulfilling than mere scientific endeavors.”

“Listen to Annika,” Gretchen said firmly. “After all, she should know. She does have the knowledge of ten thousand species in her brain, after all.”

Phoebe laughed, her free and easy spirit a direct contrast to her more sedate and composed older sister. “You should know better than to argue with Mom,” she told the Starfleet captain. “Especially now that she has Annika for backup.”

“I’m not arguing,” Kathryn protested mildly. “I’m just saying I don’t understand the need for all this effort.”

“It is purely a personal satisfaction,” Seven told her, taking a moment from her work to lean over and nuzzle her spouse briefly.

Kathryn, who was still a bit embarrassed at such openly affectionate gestures in front of her mother and sister, though neither hardly minded, blushed faintly but smiled and managed to kiss her back before Seven returned to her task. “In any event,” Seven added as she took the large dish and placed it in the heating unit, along with all the others. “This is the last. Now we can relax.”

“Just in time,” Gretchen noted, peering out the window. “Isn’t that your engineer, Kathryn?”

Janeway eased off her chair and waddled over to the window, smiling happily. “So it is. I wonder how the upgrades are coming. She promised she’d come by early to fill me in.”

Seven took the captain’s elbow as they went out the screen door to the veranda running the back length of the house, moving over to where the porch swing sat facing the driveway where a hovercraft had just settled onto its landing struts. “Do not occupy all your time tonight with work,” she requested gently as she helped her partner sit in the swing.

“I won’t,” Janeway promised insincerely as Seven turned to meet the woman who had leaped lightly up the stairs, dressed in the grey and black of Starfleet Engineering.

“It’s so good to see you two,” Commander B’Elanna Torres greeted, grinning widely as she hugged Seven. “How are things?” She took a look at Janeway and laughed. “Haven’t managed to pry thos hangar doors open yet?” she added with tolerant amusement.

Janeway’s lips pursed, and she favored her former chief engineer with a grimace. “They are steadfastly refusing to leave the ship. I hope it’s not indicative of their general attitude. That’s all I need; more insubordinate crew.”

Even Seven smiled at that as she settled next to her partner while B’Elanna leaned casually against the wood railing, filling in the captain on all the modifications to her beloved ship which Torres was overseeing at the Utopia Planetia shipyards orbiting Mars. The Borg listened quietly, amused at the two officer’s shared enthusiasm for the technical improvements being implemented. Then her eye was caught by two more figures walking up the driveway, and she felt the warm spot in her chest grow larger, infusing her with pleasure. The tall dark form of Voyager’s current first officer matched its former first officer stride for stride as Tuvok and Chakotay, now sporting the four pips of command, quickened their pace as they saw the gathering on the deck.

A little later, a small ship swooped down with casual indifference as to how it might scare the horses, and landed on the back lawn. Commander Tom Paris leaped out, still dressed in the jumpsuit of the Starfleet flight test facility, preceding Lt. Commander Harry Kim who looked a little green around the edges from what must have been a rather exciting trip from his posting as Chief of Operations on Deep Space Four. The Doctor and Sek arrived simply by materializing onto the porch, transported from Starfleet Medical where they were using their leave to lecture the medical personnel there on the genetic scans of Species 8472. The living holograms, assigned to Janeway’s command, were greeted enthusiastically by the rest, and were soon deep in a discussion with Phoebe about the new holographic form art being displayed at the local gallery.

Neelix, fresh off a successful tour of the Federation’s Rigelan colonies in his ambassadorial role as representative of the Delta Quadrant, arrived with another group who had gathered from all over the Alpha Quadrant to help celebrate this second anniversary. Seven was kept busy greeting old faces, and catching up on all that had happened the last two years, more people arriving every minute until the entire former crew of Voyager was gathered around the farmhouse porch. They greedily partook of the generous repast of potato salad, corn on the cob, and Gretchen Janeway’s special rice and pepper casserole with appropriate cries of appreciation, while Seven oversaw the simulated chicken and beef steaks sizzling on the barbeque. Later, they settled in with a variety of sweets and coffee as dusk fell, the soft peeps of frogs from the pond and the crickets in the meadow a pleasant counterpoint to their many conversations. The Borg made a point of being near Kathryn at that point, wanting to see her partner’s face when Phoebe presented the captain with the first fully authorized cup of coffee she’d had in over six months.

Janeway’s enforced abstinence from the brew was no secret, and the crowd regarded her with amused attentiveness as Janeway accepted the mug with appropriate dignity after getting awkwardly to her feet. Her blue-grey eyes sparkled as she raised it in a toast to these people, still considering them her crew regardless of where they might be posted now.

“It was a long journey,” she said, the crowd respectfully hushed. “Sometimes a difficult one, but together, we made it back. To all of us, and especially to those who did not make it all the way home. May they never be forgotten.”

They raised their glasses and with anticipation, Janeway raised the mug to her lips. A startled ‘oh’ and an astounded look crossed her face just before it touched them. Seven was instantly at her side.

“What is it?” she asked anxiously. Janeway looked down, and Seven followed her gaze to the spreading wetness puddling about the captain’s feet. “Your water has broken!”

“It can wait,” Janeway stated firmly, raising the mug quickly to her lips, but not quickly enough as Seven snatched the cup out of her hands and deposited it on the arm of the porch swing. Immediately, the Borg started urging her partner into the house. “Nooo,” the captain protested despairingly, looking back over her shoulder at the steaming cup left abandoned as excitement swept the crowd, the Doctor and Sek shoving their way through the various Starfleet officers, snapping orders.

Seven and Gretchen got Janeway situated in the spare, ground-floor bedroom set up specifically for this purpose a month earlier. The Borg noted suddenly that her partner was no longer concerned with the coffee she was missing, and was now fully occupied with the contractions that were suddenly overwhelming her.

“I was afraid of this,” the Doctor remarked idly as they got the captain properly positioned. “They been hanging around for so long, they can hardly wait to get out now.”

Seven sat behind her partner, supporting Kathryn’s shoulders as the captain’s hand gripped the Borg’s tightly, in grave danger of crushing the young woman’s implant. On the other side of the room, Phoebe recorded everything intently with a holo-imager, fascinated beyond all reason in this process her older, incredibly proper sister was undergoing.

“Ow,” Kathryn said in a high voice. “This hurts!”

“Breathe, Kathryn,” Seven instructed in a soothing voice despite the pain in her implant where Kathryn’s nails were digging in with tremendous force. “Just as we practiced.”

“God dammit, we didn’t practice this,” Kathryn yelped. “Get them out. Get them out!” Her voice rose with every word.

“Easy, Kathryn,” Gretchen said softly, wiping her daughter’s forehead with a soft, damp cloth. “Everything will be fine.”

“Relax,” the Doctor ordered firmly, placing himself between the captain’s legs. “Don’t worry, Captain. This isn’t going to take long. They take after their mother after all; when they decide to do something, not much is going to slow them down.”

“Will everyone stop telling me to relax?” Kathryn snapped, the firm whip of command in her voice severely undermined by the squeak of panic. “Just beam these things out of me!”

“Kathryn, calm down,” Seven said, hugging her chest gently. “Let it happen naturally. Do not resist.”

“If you say ‘resistance is futile’,” Janeway warned through clenched teeth. “I swear I’ll smack you.”

Seven kissed her on the temple, forcing herself to be calm in the face of this total lack of cooperation. “It will be all right, Kathryn.”

“Ow, dammit,” Janeway replied.

“Push, Captain,” the Doctor said.

“Ow, ow,” Janeway said louder. “Damn.”

“I see a head,” the Doctor said. Over his shoulder, Sek hovered expectantly, ready to step in with the proper equipment if anything went amiss. “Here comes the first one.”

“Ow, ow, ow.” Janeway yipped. “Damn, damn, DAMN!”

Outside the door somewhere, the Irish Setter, Jake howled in response to his mistress’s yelps of pain, and Seven heard the crowd try to hush him. She wondered how they were reacting to the sounds of their former captain giving birth behind the wooden door. They certainly weren’t talking much … her enhanced hearing would have picked up on that.

“It’s a boy,” the Doctor said as more howls filled the air, this time by a squirming, wet, wrinkled organism covered with blood that the hologram held up as he severed the cord.

Seven was appalled. “Is it supposed to look like that?” she asked in a quavery voice.

The Doctor shot her a disgusted look. “Do be quiet, Seven.”

The Borg wondered why something that looked so pristine and organized in the instructional programs was so incredibly messy and confused in actuality. Still a little aghast at the sight of the newborn, she looked down at Kathryn who was regarding her with eyes as wide and blue as she had ever seen.

“Is he all right?” Janeway asked anxiously.

“He’s fine,” Sek interrupted, having wiped him off, scanned him thoroughly and wrapped him in a clean, white blanket, bringing him close to the two parents. “He’s perfect, in fact. Five pounds, six ounces. Say hello to your son.”

The two women regarded the tiny bundle with mutual astonishment, apprehension and awed adoration.

“Captain,” the Doctor reminded the mother from his position, looking faintly annoyed. “You’re not done. I think you’re going to have to push a little harder for this one. It’s a little more reluctant.”

The couple tore their eyes from their firstborn with difficulty and shifted their attention to the matter at hand, As Seven coached encouragingly, the captain firmed her jaw and with great concentration, a steely glint appearing in her grey gaze, strands of auburn hair sticking to her forehead from the sweat, Janeway set about obeying the Doctor’s demand, bearing down. Before long, though it seemed like forever for the participants, their second child was delivered, taking a great deal more effort than the first.

“A girl, five pounds, ten ounces,” the Doctor announced with satisfaction as the screams filled the air, even louder than the other who had abruptly quieted, no doubt overwhelmed by the newcomer’s lusty lung power.

“Well,” Janeway noted as Sek deposited the two babies into her arms, staring down at the two little wrinkled faces with weary joy. From the reserve that had served her so many times before, Seven saw her partner draw up the energy to be completely alert and intent on the situation. “That was easy.”

Seven, who could no longer flex the fingers of her left implant, considered that to be the second single most inaccurate thing the captain had ever said to her. But when she looked down at her spouse cradled in her arms, and the two tiny forms of her children, she forgot everything else, believing her heart must surely explode from all this emotion. Tentatively, she touched the little heads, too overcome to speak. Kathryn looked up at her and smiled in a way Seven had never seen before, and the Borg returned it, unaware that her entire face was lit up as if from some glow deep within.

The Doctor and Sek finished cleaning up as the parents, grandparent and new aunt examined the offspring intently, counting all the fingers and toes, cooing over the rest of the absurdly tiny body parts. Then the Doctor leaned over the captain. “Are you ready for a few visitors? We have some anxious people out there.”

“Only a few,” Seven said warningly, her eyes sparking as every protective instinct fiercely went on alert. “Perhaps B’Elanna and Tuvok.”

“And Harry, Neelix, Tom and Chakotay,” the captain added placidly. “They need to see this.” She glanced up at Seven, smiling gently and Seven melted, unable to deny her anything she might want. “Tell them to bring in my coffee.”

The door opened and Voyager’s prior senior staff crowded hesitantly into the room, their eyes wide and fearful as they took in the sight of their captain and her newest accomplishment.

“Hello my friends,” Janeway said softly, smiling. “May I present the newest additions to our family.” She looked down at the offspring cradled in each arm.

“On the left is Edward Magnus Janeway,” she introduced huskily. “And on the right, Erin Gretchen Hansen.”

Seven thought that this was the most supremely happy moment that she would ever experience in her life as she held her family in her arms, while all the people she loved in her life gathered round to help her celebrate.

Captain Janeway glared at the Cirrilean officer, hands on her hips, her jaw set with stubborn ferocity. “I want to know where my crewmember is being held,” she said in a voice that would have shattered granite. “And I want to know now!”

Apparently the Cirrileans were made from much stronger stuff than mere rock, or at least the head law enforcement officer was.

“Your crewmember is perfectly safe,” he said in a bored tone. “She’s with a Seer, having her future explained. She’ll be back when she’s done. I want to know who’s going to pay for the damages your other crewmembers incurred.”

“We didn’t start anything,” B’Elanna protested, and then subsided immediately when Janeway shot her a look.

“If my people were at fault, we shall glad to make restitution. In the meantime, I want to know where this Seer is.”

“I’ve told you,” the officer said. “The Seers are set up two blocks down, to the right, but if your crewmember was picked out of the crowd as witnesses have stated, chances are she was taken to the Seer’s personal space to have the reading done.”

“Where would that be?” Janeway demanded with forced patience.

He shrugged unhelpfully. “Without knowing which Seer it was, it could be just about anywhere, couldn’t it? Now about these damages.”

“Seven!” B’Elanna’s voice cut thorough his demand.

Janeway turned, profoundly relieved to see the tall blond woman approaching the knot of people huddled in front of the tavern. Her eyes narrowed as she saw the disoriented expression in the pale face and the confusion in the gaze. She pushed people aside without ceremony, reaching out to take the young woman’s hand in her own.

“Seven,” she asked, schooling her voice into one of calm rationality, though it was difficult. “Are you all right?”

“I am … functioning,” Seven replied distantly. That was far from reassuring to her spouse. Seven only used such terminology when she wasn’t entirely sure what she was experiencing or feeling.

“I think we need to get back to the ship,” Janeway said firmly, touching her comm badge.

“What about these damages?” the officer yelped.

“We will address them with your government,” Janeway said in a steely tone. “Commander Chakotay, six to beam up. Recall the rest of the crew on shore leave.”

“Understood,” her first officer responded immediately and Janeway released Seven’s hand, feeling the sparkle and hum of the transporter sweep her up to deposit her in the confines of transporter room one.

“Tuvok, oversee the replication of the currency needed to pay for our purchases,” she instructed as she stepped down off the dais. “Throw in some extra to cover any damages that might have occurred, along with our official apology for disturbing their peace.” She shot a glance at B’Elanna, Tom and Harry who were doing their best to blend in with the hull. “You three are on report until I get this straightened out. Regardless of who started what, I expect better of my people than to find them brawling in the streets like common thugs.” Her face softened as she regarded Seven who was standing at attention on the transporter pad. “I want you to go to sickbay, Seven. Get checked out. I’ll meet you there as soon as I’m finished.”

“I will comply,” Seven responded coolly and stepped neatly off the dais, disappearing out the door without a backward glance.

Profoundly worried, Janeway looked after her until she was interrupted by the tentatively cleared voice of her chief engineer. She turned a force six level ‘look’ on B’Elanna, blinking as she saw the fuzzy blue creature in her hand.

“Uh, Seven won this for Naomi’s birthday,” the Klingon said hesitantly. “Where do you want it?”

Janeway frowned sternly. “Bringing biological organisms on board without the proper clearance is against regulations.”

“You may put it with the one the captain purchased,” Tuvok said in the next breath, handing the greenish furball to B’Elanna who clearly did not know what to do with either of them.

With a supreme effort of will, Janeway kept the flush surrounding her neck from creeping up into her face. “Take them to sickbay. The Doctor needs to clear them before we release them to general confines of the ship.”

“Yes, ma’am,” B’Elanna said respectfully as she and her two cohorts made a hasty exit.

Janeway looked sardonically at her security chief. “You enjoyed that.”

An eyebrow raised slightly. “Captain?”

“Never mind,” she said, heading for the door as he followed imperturbably. “Let’s go to the bridge. I have some more negotiating to do.”

An hour later, with the situation involving the Cirrileans finally settled and her ship once more on course for the Alpha Quadrant, Janeway made her way down to sickbay. She was amused and not a little relieved to find the Doctor and, apparently, a fully recovered Seven, frowning over the box containing the B’Rethna. She quirked an eyebrow as she saw her partner pick one up, the green one, and stroke it gently, an oddly tender expression on her face.

“I see we had the same idea,” she offered softly as she quietly joined the Borg next to the cage.. Seven looked over, blinking as if surprised by the captain’s abrupt appearance.

“I thought Naomi would like one for her birthday.”

Janeway grinned ruefully. “I did, too. They’re cute, aren’t they?”

“They are vermin,” the Doctor said succinctly.

“Doctor?” Janeway frowned at him and he raised an eyebrow.

“They can eat practically anything organic, breed quickly, and from what I understand, most Cirrileans can’t give them away.”

“I purchased it in a shop,” the captain said slowly. “The proprietress said they make excellent pets.”

“I’m sure they do. They’re fairly nonaggressive as adults … once they’ve bonded.”

“Wait,” Janeway said, holding up an elegant finger. “Start from the beginning. Why do you call them vermin?”

“Because they don’t serve a purpose. Unlike cats and dogs, which were initially domesticated to serve humanity, these are more like rats, some of which also make good pets, but normally have the reputation for carrying disease and overrunning an abode in short order.” He quirked an eye. “I trust you didn’t pay too much for them.”

Janeway stubbornly remained silent, as Seven gently put the creature down in the box. “Are they truly harmful?” the Borg asked, disappointment coloring her tone.

He shook his head. “Keep them fed and bonded and they’re very affectionate as a rule. Let ‘em run loose to grow up unbonded, they’ll become vicious, overpopulate, and feed off whatever they can find.” He leaned over and eyed them narrowly. “You’ll have to keep these two apart. The blue one’s female. The green one’s a male.”

“Oh god,” Janeway said, rubbing her forehead. “I don’t think Naomi can look after both.”

“She won’t have to,” the Doctor noted. “The blue one’s already bonded to B’Elanna.”

“How did that happen?” Janeway said, staring at him. “And what does it mean exactly?”

“Apparently, while they’re still young, they can be imprinted onto another species.” When the Doctor realized that was not clear to the captain either, he sighed. “They form packs or herds, led by a head female. By tasting the leader’s blood, they determine their group dynamics. It’s something genetic, I’m sure, and any exobiologist could spend an entire career studying them, but the consensus is, if they’re acquired at a young enough age, they can be induced to bite their owner whereupon they form a pack bond with that person. That is, apparently, what makes them such good pets.” He nodded at the blue creature up on its hind legs, the front ones braced against the side of the box, its tiny nose quivering inquisitively as it regarded Seven. “That one bit B’Elanna down on the planet. It’s hers now.”

“Does B’Elanna know this?” Seven asked anxiously.

The Doctor looked faintly smug. “No, but I do want to be there when you tell her.”

“I don’t know if I like the idea of something taking a bite out of Naomi, regardless of the reason.” Janeway frowned. “That’s hardly any way to celebrate a birthday.”

“I have a sample of Naomi’s blood on file. I can give it to the creature, and it will be bonded to her automatically … provided that’s what you want. We can always dispose of both of them before Naomi ever sees them.”

Janeway saw the expression that came over Seven’s face, and she held up a hand, forestalling the protest. “If it will make a good pet, and it’s not harmful, then imprint it with Naomi’s genetic pattern. The other one is apparently B’Elanna’s to do with as she wishes.” She paused. “Inform her that I really don’t want to know if she decides not to keep it.”

“Yes, Captain. In the meantime, I want to discuss this idea that I am now the ship’s veterinarian, as well as the Chief Medical Officer. I don’t remember applying for the position.”

Janeway eyed him briefly. “You didn’t apply for CMO either,” she reminded him wryly with a bit of a shrug. “By the way, Jake’s due for his shots. I’ll bring him by tomorrow.”

The Doctor looked disgruntled but didn’t say anything further, casting a final disgusted look on the pair of them before disappearing into his office where his assistant, Sek was busy at her desk. Janeway’s grin faded as she looked at her partner who was idly observing the creatures as they scampered about the box. Moving closer to Seven, the captain slid her arm around the slender waist.

“Are you all right?”.

Seven looked up at her blankly. Then, she blinked and nodded. “I am adequate.”

“What happened down there?”

Seven frowned slightly, shaking her head. “I … spoke with a Seer,” she said slowly. “She read my future.”

Janeway took a breath. “You didn’t tell anyone where you were going. B’Elanna was … worried. I know you’re an adult, but she seemed to think it was very uncharacteristic of you.”

Seven nodded. “I am still not entirely sure why I went with the female, but I was not harmed, and eventually returned to where I had left B’Elanna.”

Janeway tilted her head, studying her partner closely. Such imprecision was not at all like the young woman. “What did you talk about?”

“She predicted my future,” Seven said quietly. “I shall make a decision soon, and there will be two possible outcomes, one beneficial, the other … not.”

Janeway considered that. “Well, that sounds like routine procedure when it comes to fortune telling. Do this, and something good happens, do something else and bad things happens. What’s the decision?”

“I do not know,” Seven replied, and for the first time, a hint of distress crept into the Borg’s voice.

Janeway tightened her hold on her partner. “Darling, it’s just a form of entertainment. You can’t take it seriously.”

Seven looked at her anxiously, and Janeway felt a bit of a chill as she saw the bleakly hopeful expression. “Really?” the young woman asked in a small voice.

“Really,” Janeway said firmly. Obviously this mystical mumbo jumbo had disturbed her spouse … perhaps because it was so out of the realm of the Borg’s knowledge. She was quick to cast the sharp light of logic on it to clear away Seven’s misconceptions. “That’s why she didn’t tell you what the decision was going to be. It’s deliberately kept vague, otherwise it would quickly be proven to be false. It’s just a form of illusion, darling. It doesn’t mean anything at all.”

The captain thought Seven seemed profoundly relieved by this … too relieved … and Janeway wondered exactly what the fortune teller had told the young woman. But she didn’t have much time to think about it because there was a sudden jolt that shifted the deck beneath their feet, and she sprinted for the door, Seven at her heels, even as the call came over her comm badge.

“Captain Janeway to the bridge. We’re under attack.”

Seven took her position at the aft auxiliary tactical console, keying in the sensors to scan the immediate area around the ship. On the fore viewscreen, a multitudes of small vessels swooped about Voyager, firing at the shields.

“Pirates,” Janeway said in a voice of utter disgust as she took her place in her command chair. This was not the first time the Federation vessel had run into a ragtag band of the bandits that infested this area of space. “Evasive maneuvers. Ready phaser banks. Get their attention, Tuvok.”

At his tactical station, the Vulcan’s dark hands moved over his board, sending beams of energy out to intersect the nearest ships, penetrating their makeshift shields and knocking them out of the battle. But unlike before, when the display of firepower dissuaded the rest, it only seemed to enrage this band, increasing their attack. The returning fire jolted the ship, sent it heeling about.

“Hail them,” Janeway snapped, her hair flying about her face. “Broad bandwidth. This is Captain Janeway of USS Voyager. Break off your attack or be destroyed.”

“No response,” Harry said from his ops post.

“They never learn,” Paris muttered as he keyed in the course adjustments to avoid the worst of the barrage.

Seven heard her partner take a deep breath, knowing that Janeway really did not want to fire back at the pirates. Voyager had discovered that for these nomads raiding the space lanes, piracy was a normal way of life, and many of the vessels contained women and children, entire families living on each ship. Despite her threatening hail, Janeway would avoid destroying them if at all possible.

“Get us out of here, Tom.”

“Trying to, Captain. There’s a lot of them. More than last time.”

“Captain, sensors detect a nebula off the port bow,” Seven noted. “We could lose them easily in there. Their sensors would be useless.”

Janeway nodded. “Do it. Set a course, Mr. Paris.”

Seven noted that the pirates melted away as Voyager leaped forward, heading for the nebula that was full of sensor blanking radiation and … Seven frowned, running another sweep. There were anomalous readings, slight fluctuations that could indicate random bursts of harmless energy discharges … or warp signatures. She hesitated, looking from her board to the captain. If she said anything, then Janeway would turn back into the oncoming path of the pursuing pirates, the known threat. If she kept quiet, they would enter the dust cloud in ten minutes to face … the unknown.

A hard decision had to be made … what would be the outcome? A sick sensation rose in her chest as Seven ran another scan. Still undetermined. She swallowed hard, looking at her board with quiet desperation. Kathryn had said the whole thing was a falsehood. Who should she believe? A strange female with prophecies of doom … or her partner?

Seven cleared her throat. “Captain, I am picking up anomalous readings from the nebula. They may mean nothing … or they may be warp signatures. I am unable to get a clear scan.”

Janeway stood up, turning to face her. The blue-grey eyes narrowed as she stared at her, and then she glanced over her shoulder at Tom. “Anyone between us and the nebula?”

Paris shook his head. “It’s a clear shot.”

“Almost as if they were herding us there,” Janeway said slowly, thoughtfully. She nodded briefly. “Hard about. It’s a trap.”

Immediately, Paris threw Voyager into a 180 degree turn, flying back into the pursuing vessels who increased their firepower. A conduit near the front of the bridge exploded as the energy beams sent a backwash along the circuits. Janeway stood tall on lower deck and on the viewscreen, a tiny ship appeared, apparently unable to veer away in time. Seven grasped her console with white knuckles, willing Tom to maneuver around the laboring vessel, but the analytical part of her brain instantly calculated the necessary vectors and realized there simply wasn’t enough room.

Suddenly it was as if everything was in slow motion with Seven unable to move fast enough. She wanted to scream at her partner, tell her to brace herself, to sit down, but there wasn’t time. Voyager shuddered under the impact, the greater vessel simply demolishing the tiny pirate ship as it smashed through. Both the integrity field and shields flickered, briefly going down before surging back to a half of their former strength. The bridge crew were flung violently fore and starboard, Seven smashing into her tactical display so hard she felt her ribs, reinforced by Borg metal, creak under the blow. Harry slammed into the aft panel while Tuvok required all his Vulcan strength to hang onto his console. Tom Paris and Chakotay, sitting in chairs, were protected by the braces but Janeway, unsupported by anything, was catapulted across the lower level, crashing into the science station.

Chakotay was the first to reach her, hitting his comm badge. “Emergency inter-ship transport, bridge to sickbay.”

“Unable to comply,” the computer responded placidly. “Transporter systems are off line.”

“I have her,” Seven said in a voice completely unlike her own, shoving the first officer aside as she picked up her partner and sprinted for the turbolift.

Please no, she prayed over and over as the lift seemed to take forever. Don’t let this happen.

Kathryn’s blood spilt hot over Seven’s arms and hands as she staggered into sickbay, her breath coming in stabs of agony, her ribs aching but she dared not let it slow her. The medical bay was chaos, the biobeds filled by casualties with more arriving all the time, and she carried her partner across the room.

“Doctor,” she screamed.

He looked up from a patient, and his face blanched when he saw who Seven was carrying. “Here, Seven,” he said urgently as Sek, his medical assistant, helped a less injured patient off the bed to a nearby chair. Seven lay Janeway down with exquisite care, feeling helpless and terrified as she saw how Kathryn’s head lolled impossibly limp on her neck.

Just as it had in her vision.

“Step aside, Seven,” the Doctor instructed, nudging the Borg away as he bent over Voyager’s commander.

Seven stood with her hands clenched, watching as a sick fear rose in her throat like acid, her breath coming in pants. It seemed an eternity before the Doctor paused in his ministrations, shot her a look, and then straightened, shutting off his tricorder.

“No,” Seven said in a barely audible voice.

“I have other patients who need me.”

“But my nanoprobes. We can restore her–”

“Seven, calm down,” the Doctor said, reaching out to grip her arms tightly.

“No,” she screamed as she struggled against his hold and it was only the fact that he was a hologram that her left hand was not ripping his right arm off at the shoulder. “I have to go to her. I have to save her.”

“Sek,” he cried.

Seven frantically tried to pull away from his grip, tried to lean away from the other hologram who pressed a hypospray against the Borg’s neck. Then there was only darkness.

Janeway struggled up through the cloying thickness of darkness, hearing screams and knowing they were her partner’s. With an formidable effort, the captain opened her eyes, looking around dazedly to see the Doctor struggling with the Borg. Sek pressed a hypospray against the young woman’s neck, and Seven slumped bonelessly into the Doctor’s arms.

“What the hell’s going on here?” Janeway said groggily, rolling off the bed unsteadily. She noted with vague interest that her uniform tunic was covered with blood, and she wondered whose it was.

“I don’t know, Captain,” the Doctor said worriedly as he and Sek got Seven onto the bed Janeway had just vacated. “She became hysterical. If I wasn’t a hologram, she would have ripped me apart.”

“Take it slow, Captain,” Sek advised, steadying Janeway as she tottered. “You took a heavy blow.”

“What am I doing here?” Janeway mumbled.

“You were injured on the bridge,” the Doctor said impatiently. “Your nanoprobes repaired most of the damage before Seven brought you here. If you don’t mind, I have patients who don’t have that advantage.” He strode off to help a crewmember from engineering who had just stumbled through the door, supported by two others who were also banged up.

Janeway hesitated, looking at her partner laying unconscious on the bed, crimson staining the Borg’s arms and hands.

“Go,” Sek told her from the other side of the bunk. “The sedative I administered will keep her under for hours. You’ve recovered from your injuries, and they need you on the bridge.”

Janeway took a breath, then nodded and hurried for the door. In the turbolift, she brushed ineffectually at the blood drying on her chest, and tried not to fidget as the lift seemed to take forever to rise to the command center.

I’m going to have to find a way to increase their speed, Janeway thought irritably. What a rotten day this is turning out to be … and it had started out so well. She was trying very hard not to think about what had just happened in sickbay regarding the microscopic Borg nanoprobes she had picked up while assimilated several months back. Though she recognized the fact that they were apparently becoming more … efficient … the longer she had them in her body. She shuddered delicately and forced the foreboding thoughts to the back of her mind.

Chakotay barely flickered as she strode briskly from the bridge, apparently content to accept she was the indestructable sort. Of course, he had always had that attitude towards her, only contradicting her in extreme situations.

“Report.”

“We made it through them,” he said, eyeing the blood on her uniform narrowly. “There were ships in the nebula. They joined in on the attack when we blasted through the rear line, but they were too far away to catch us. It was a good call by Seven.” He hesitated. “Speaking of which, how is it that she carried you to sickbay, but only you came back?”

“My injuries weren’t as bad as everyone thought.” She did not explain where Seven was at the moment. Unless he asked, she’d keep that to herself until she was better able to figure out what was going on. “Damage?”

“Transporters and communications have been disrupted,” Tuvok said. “Repair teams are working on them now. A conduit on deck two was fused by an overload. Lt. Torres is working on it.”

“Casualties?”

“Unknown as of yet.” Chakotay glanced at her. “What did it look like in sickbay?”

“Busy,” she responded succinctly. She regarded the monitor between their respective command chairs, scaning the rest of the damage reports now coming in. When the casualty report finally appeared, she knew things had eased enough for the Doctor or Sek to collect the data and send it to the bridge. She released a barely audible sigh of relief. “No fatalities.”

Chakotay tapped the screen over the name. “Sedated?” He frowned as he regarded her.

Janeway shook her head. “I don’t know, but I’m beginning to think that a lot more happened on that planet than just Seven having her fortune read. When she wakes up, she and I are going to have to have a long talk.”

“That might be a good idea,” he allowed as the pair of them set to work, taking inventory of the repair requirements, and channeling personnel and resources to those areas.

The hours passed, and it was shading into the gamma shift when the last of the immediate repairs were made. Janeway stretched wearily as the turbolift carried her down to sickbay, feeling exhaustion tug at her insistently. The lights were dim in the medical center as she walked in, signifying night watch though she noted that a few of the patients were still awake, reading quietly or just working from padds by the single illuminations over each biobed. She stopped at each crewmember still awake, offering an encouraging word here, a comforting pat there. Then she came to the bed where her partner lay under a single sheet.

Gently, she stroked her fingertips along the smooth cheek, looking down at the narrow features with concern, seeing that they did not seem peaceful, even while Seven was unconscious.

“We’re keeping a monitor on her,” Sek said softly, drifting out from the office. “Her nanoprobes are fighting off the sedative. She should regain consciousness sooner than we anticipated.”

“They are tenacious little things, aren’t they?” Janeway said with a rueful sigh. She raised an eyebrow as Seven stirred, a soft sound issuing from the full lips, and the captain leaned over her. “Annika, wake up.”

Seven’s eyelids fluttered, then opened, the pale blue confused and muddled, clearing to stare at the captain above her. She made another sound, one of fear and dismay, and then shockingly, she started to cry. Horrified, Janeway gathered her up into her arms, rocking her gently. “Hey, it’s all right, love,” she murmured, gratified when Sek drifted discretely away. She felt completely helpless, with no clue as to what this was all about.

“I thought you were dead.” Seven choked on her sobs, clinging to her partner.

“Well, I’m not,” Janeway responded, greatly disturbed at Seven’s emotional disarray. She hugged her spouse gingerly, wishing they were not in sickbay, though the alert patients had diplomatically turned so that they were looking away from the couple. “Are you ready to come home?” She wanted to move this to a more private location.

With an effort, Seven composed herself and nodded, sniffing hard. Janeway helped her off the bed, and with a nod to Sek, they left sickbay. Janeway kept a comforting hand on Seven’s elbow as they walked through the corridors, and once inside their quarters, she watched as Seven knelt to greet Jake who had rushed up to his mistresses, patting him sadly.

“I am so sorry, Jake,” the Borg told him in a tone of despair. “I abandoned you.”

Janeway had no idea what that meant, knowing only that her partner was acting completely unlike herself. “Talk to me, darling,” she requested, putting her hands lightly on Seven’s shoulders. “What’s going on here?”

Seven inhaled, obviously fighting tears as she stood up. She turned, reaching out for Janeway, holding her tightly as she buried her face into the captain’s hair. “It was horrible, Kathryn,” she said in a choked voice. “I lost you. I had to live without you.”

Janeway returned the hug, confused at the words, but aware that her partner was hurting. “It’s all right, darling. Whatever it is, it’s over.” She stroked the young woman’s back gently. “Does any of this relate to what happened to you on the planet?” She felt Seven nod in the hollow of her shoulder, and she pulled her closer. “Darling, we need to go over and sit down on the couch. We need to talk about this.”

Worried, Janeway took Seven’s hands and drew her over to the sofa, sitting down with her. She was barely seated, however, before Seven had crawled onto her lap … literally. The Borg turned so that she had her arms wrapped around the captain’s neck, her torso resting across Janeway’s, her knees tucked up against the captain’s side. Janeway felt buried as Seven began to weep once more with helpless, hopeless sobs, apparently unable to stop.

“You died, Kathryn,” Seven kept mumbling through her tears. “You died and I had to live. Please don’t make me go on without you. Please don’t ask that of me.”

Mystified, Janeway wrapped her arms around her partner and held her as close as she could, pressing her cheek against Seven’s, feeling the tears soak her face. “Shh,” she murmured soothingly. “I’m right here, darling. I’m not going anywhere, it’s all right, my love.”

Yet, still Seven cried and Janeway was very much afraid that Seven was sliding into hysteria again. She did not at all relish the thought of having to deal with a hysterical Borg without a handy sedative around.

“Annika, listen to me,” she said, firming her voice, bringing a touch of command discipline into it. “Listen to my heartbeat. Listen to me breathe. I’m right here. I’m alive. But I can’t help you until you calm down.”

Janeway kept repeating this over and over, rubbing the young woman’s back and gradually, Seven began to quiet. The captain did not press for an explanation immediately; instead, she just continued to hold her, telling her how much she loved her, that she would never leave her. A promise, she knew that was truly beyond her power to make, but knowing it needed to be said anyway. Finally, Seven rested quietly in her arms, listening intently to Janeway’s chest, her fingers pressed lightly against the pulse point at the captain’s throat, her body still shaking with an occasional sob, but able to speak coherently.

“Take your time,” Janeway instructed. “Tell me slowly.”

“I saw a woman across the street,” Seven whispered after a long moment. “She was Human.”

Janeway savagely clamped down on the questions that immediately rose to her lips, knowing that now was not the time to ask them. “Go on,” she said gently, encouragingly.

“She walked towards me and…” Seven faltered. “I do not know what happened. The next thing I remember is being in a room with her, and she was not Human anymore, she was Cirrilean. She put down a card, and said it signified a decision that I would make soon.” Seven swallowed hard, and Janeway waited patiently, not rushing her. “Then she told me to choose a card to see the future which would result from making the decision. I turned over another card … it was dark, frightening and suddenly I was on Voyager.”

She paused and Janeway stroked the long blond hair tenderly, content to wait for her. After a moment, Seven continued.

“It was exactly what happened today,” Seven whispered. “Except you died. I wanted to die as well but no one would let me. You had made me promise not to … so I tried to live.” She began to cry again. “I tried so very hard, Kathryn, but it hurt so much. I cannot live without you. Please do not make me.”

“Shh, it’s all right,” Janeway whispered. “I’m right here, darling.”

Wondering how quickly she could turn Voyager around, beam down to Cirrilea, track this Seer down and personally eviscerate her. With a very dull knife.

“Annika, I’m not dead, I’m right here,” she said again, hoping that repeating it enough would somehow make it possible for Seven to believe it because for some reason, her partner was having a lot of trouble with that concept at the moment. “Shh, darling, listen to my heartbeat.”

Finally, Seven was able to go on. “I lived without you for months, Kathryn,” she said, and now her voice was confused, lost. “It felt like months. It felt like it had really happened … was really going to happen.” She trailed off, obviously unable to come up with the words and tenses to explain it properly.

Janeway hugged her tightly. “It was an illusion, Annika, some form of mental projection.”

“You were injured, just as you were in the vision,” Seven protested raggedly. “It was exactly what happened.”

“But I’m not dead, darling.” Janeway hesitated, then added dryly, “This Seer was apparently unaware of my nanoprobes.”

Seven was silent, breathing harshly. “Or perhaps … I made the right decision. This time.”

Janeway frowned. She didn’t like the way that sounded at all.

Seven became upset once more. “I could have chosen incorrectly. I could have killed you.”

“Stop this!” Janeway said with a snap to her tone, her patience finally eroding. “Annika, it’s over. I’m alive.” Janeway took a breath, controlling her anger which wasn’t really at Seven at all, but the unknown alien who had frightened the young woman so badly. She gentled her voice as she pulled her spouse closer. “Annika, we make decisions all the time. You can’t second guess yourself like this … it’ll destroy you.”

“I do not know what to do, Kathryn,” Seven said finally, in a very small, terrified voice.

Neither did Janeway, at this point. This had been so unexpected, coming so far out of the blue that she wasn’t entirely sure how to react as the young woman’s partner. She did know how to react as a captain however, and she gently kissed Seven on the temple to soften what she had to say next.

“Annika, I need you to take the next few days off while we work this out.”

Seven knew exactly what her lover was getting at. “You do not wish for me to be placed in a position where I must make a decision and hesitate, thereby endangering the ship.” She bowed her head sadly. “Perhaps that is for the best.”

Janeway would have preferred it if Seven had been furious with her at giving her such an order. This defeated acceptance was a profoundly disturbing reaction. “We’ll figure this out,” she insisted, trying to convince herself as much as Seven. “It will just take some time.”

“I am sorry, Kathryn,” Seven whispered. “I am letting you down.”

“No, my darling, you never let me down. You’re just going through a rough patch. We’ll get through this.”

“I love you, Kathryn. That is why this is hurting me so much.”

“I know, Annika,” Janeway told her gently. “I love you too.” She inhaled slowly and blinked, glancing at the large grandfather clock that sat against the wall by the bedroom door. An antique, it had been set to reflect the ship’s time. “It’s 0233,” she suggested gently. “Let’s turn in, and try for a fresh perspective tomorrow.”

She was relieved when Seven agreed, and they untangled themselves from the couch, retiring to the bedroom. The captain kept a worried eye on her partner as they prepared for bed, but it did seem to her that Seven was a little less upset, if only because she wouldn’t have to make any decisions for the next few days. Janeway climbed between the sheets, unsurprised when Seven immediately wrapped her up in her arms, holding on to her tightly.

“I did not tell you about the rest,” the Borg said softly into the captain’s ear.

Janeway winced. “Oh dear, there’s more?” she said weakly, trying to steel herself.

Seven inhaled deeply. “It was the other outcome of the decision, the future where you did not … die. We were on Earth, in your mother’s house. You were pregnant and we were celebrating the second anniversary of Voyager’s return to the Alpha Quadrant. Your water broke in the middle of the celebration.”

Janeway took a moment to absorb that. “Sounds unforgettable.” Janeway hesitated, and then had to ask. “What did I have, a boy or a girl?”

“Yes.”

“Yes?” Janeway raised an eyebrow. “Could you be a little more specific?”

“I was.” She relented at Janeway’s expression. “You had a multiple birth, a boy and a girl.” The Borg paused. “It was more effective to combine the two required offspring than have you conduct two separate pregnancies.”

Janeway was silent. Then despite her best effort, she smiled. “I’m sorry, darling. You’re just so damned efficient, even in your pursuit of mysticism.”

Seven smiled ruefully. “I must inform you that I did not find you at all pleasant while you were giving birth.”

“I’ll bet.” Janeway took a breath and considered it. “Why did that other future affect you more than this one did? This one sounds wonderful.”

Seven took a while before she responded. “I do not know,” she said finally. “It just did.”

Janeway sighed, deciding to leave it for the time being.

There was another pause, longer this time. “Thank you, Kathryn. For helping me.”

Janeway yawned sleepily. “That’s the point, darling,” she said, snuggling close. “I’m here for you, you’re here for me. That’s why they call it marriage.”

“Good night, Kathryn,” Seven added quietly.

“Good night, my love.” Janeway brushed her lips over Seven’s before settling against her, feeling the younger woman relax finally.

Hoping that whatever sleep they could get would grant them a greater clarity because at the moment, Janeway was totally stymied as to how to help her partner with this one.

Commander Chakotay looked up from his book curiously as the chime to his door sounded. Though he was the ad hoc ship’s counselor, people were not in the habit of visiting him in his quarters, tending to respect that as his own, perhaps because he made himself so available in the rest of the ship. Where the captain tended to eat in her cabin or ready room, Chakotay always ate in the messhall; where Janeway tended to limit her social interaction to a select few, he could be as easily found hanging out in a Jeffries tube with some of the maintenance crew as having dinner with the senior staff.

So he was very surprised to see the captain at his door.

“Please, have a seat,” he invited, gesturing to the sofa beneath the windows lining the hull.

She did so, with a great deal more formality than he was used to seeing from her. It was almost as if she was uncomfortable being here in his quarters, and he realized that whatever had brought her here was of a personal nature.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

She shook her head. “No, thank you.” She looked at him for a moment. “I need some advice regarding Seven.”

“How can I help?” he asked immediately, a compassionate expression on his face. He knew something had been up, first by that odd need to sedate Seven after that encounter with the pirates, then the fact that the Borg had yet to return to duty three days later. Perhaps now he’d find out why he had been forced to reroute personnel to cover astrometrics.

She favored him with a brief smile, clearly attempting to figure out the best way to broach the subject. Janeway did not usually come to him with personal problems. Ship’s business, yes, but for any situations involving her love life, she inevitably took such discussions to Tuvok. In the beginning, Chakotay had been a little hurt by that, and could not for the life of him figure out why she suddenly considered the Vulcan to be more of an expert on Human relationships than he. He finally came to realize that she required a certain amount of logical distance when discussing personal details. Certainly, she could not get that from him. Emotionless, he would never be. Not to mention the fact that he had teased her about her relationship at times which, although she returned with good natured jousts, may have made her a trifle hesitant about bringing any such problems to him.

“Seven’s going through a bit of a crisis.” She took several moments to explain what Seven had told her about her experience on the planet’s surface. Her eyes were full of distress when she finished. “I know that you deal with this sort of … mystical prophecy and visions in your private life. Do you have any suggestions on how I could make her more … comfortable with these insights into the future? Which may or may not even be accurate.”

He settled back in his chair, regarding her with a frown. “Honestly, Kathryn, I’m not entirely sure why she’s upset by the thought of these two futures. Clearly it seems she made the correct decision and now you two will go on to a happy life together which includes children.” He tried not to imagine the captain giving birth. Her details about that future were a trifle sketchy, but that only meant his imagination had been given free rein to roam … and he had a very good imagination.

Janeway sighed. “I know, but now she’s so afraid that she could make a decision that could result in my death, she can’t make any decisions at all. She’s stopped functioning. That’s why she’s been pulled from duty, and why she’s remaining in our quarters. I don’t know how to help her.”

“I see,” Chakotay said, considering this. “Maybe it’s not the vision that’s bothering her.” When she looked at him, he tried to elaborate, thinking his way through it slowly. “This seems more about what the vision allowed her to experience.”

“My death.”

“No,” he said carefully. “Her life after your death. She sounds terrified of that. Terrified enough that she doesn’t even want to risk it.”

“I’m not sure of the difference,” she said, regarding him with puzzlement.

He spread his hands. “It’s a big difference, Kathryn. We all live with death, particularly out here in space. That possibility is a constant reality where only the thickness of a ship’s hull, and our own good judgement keep us from oblivion.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oblivion?” she repeated as if surprised. “You don’t believe in an existence beyond death?”

He nodded. “Yes, I do. Do you?”

Janeway hesitated, considering it. “Not in any formal way. Not from making a conscious decision about it but yes, I do think there is an existence beyond death, though whether anyone truly has an honest idea of what that really is can be debated.”

He nodded. “Does Seven?”

She took a breath. “I don’t know. If we discussed it … I don’t remember it.”

“Perhaps you should,” he suggested gently. “It seems like Seven isn’t so much afraid of death … hers or yours … as she is of living … particularly living without you. I have the impression that you’ve made her promise to carry on should you die before her.”

Janeway looked pensive. “I can’t honestly say that I extracted any such agreement from her.” Her level grey eyes met his squarely. “But if I have, surely she knows it’s because I only want what’s best for her.”

“Is it? Or is it just what you believe she should do? You’re a pretty powerful influence on all of us, Kathryn. You must be even more of an influence on her, and if you indicate that she has to go on, then she would do her utmost not to disappoint you, but would it be the best thing for her? You’re her whole existence, Kathryn. Take that away, and I don’t know that she would have anything worth living for.”

Janeway frowned, as if annoyed by such a conclusion. “She’s more self assured than that, Chakotay,” she said in a harder tone. “She’s perfectly capable of surviving without me.”

He made a face. “You think? Or is that something you’re just assuming, Kathryn because you haven’t looked deep enough?”

She raised her chin, her eyes growing dark. “Would you care to elaborate on that?” she asked, and her voice had dropped a degree. “Obviously you have an opinion on this.”

He rested his big hands on his knees. “Kathryn, you believe in life above all, particularly for others. You think that life is worth fighting for to the bitter end. I remember how disappointed you were when the Q, who wished to be mortal just for the sake of being able to die, took just that path in the end.”

Janeway exhaled slowly. “I do think life is worth fighting for. Otherwise, what’s the point?”

“I can’t argue with you, but what if life is empty, where it has no quality to it whatsoever? I think that I would like to die in that event. I know I would never give up my right to decide for myself to someone else, but then, I wasn’t raised by the Borg where I followed the will of the Collective to the exclusion of all other concerns.”

She shook her head, obviously keeping a rein on her temper. He could see the flash in her eyes that indicated she didn’t agree with him at all, but when she spoke, it was with deceptive mildness. Never a good sign with her.

“I think you’re underestimating Seven’s individuality. You’re not giving her credit for how far she has come from that Borg drone.”

He sensed he was losing her willingness to listen, and he plowed forward insistently. “Kathryn, I realize that I was one of Seven’s detractors in the beginning. That’s not what’s going on here. I know she’s come a hell of a long way. I also know she’s got a hell of a long way to go, which perhaps you don’t see because you’re so in love with her. You see her as the person she can be, all the potential she has. You have always seen her that way. But I can see her as the damaged soul she still is, and when I say that you’re her whole existence at this point in her life, I’m not disparaging her. It’s just the truth.”

He leaned forward, looking at her intently. “If you had been anyone else, Kathryn, anyone less than who you are, not only would this relationship you have not work, I suspect Seven never would have made the strides she had in becoming a functioning Human being. You were the perfect person for her, just as, ironically enough, she was the perfect person for you. That doesn’t change the fact that who she is now is very much due to how she sees herself through your eyes. She will give you the right to take away her choices whether it’s correct or not. I’m not saying she will a year from now or five years, or ten years, but right now, if you tell her that she is not allowed to kill herself if you die, then she’ll do her damndest to obey. Even if it means she has to spend an existence of utter misery without you. And it would be utter misery for her, Kathryn. Don’t kid yourself.”

Janeway was silent, regarding him darkly. “I suspect that you are allowing yourself to be unduly influenced by romantic notions,” she said finally. “The thought of killing one’s self just because the person they love dies is not …. practical!” That was not the word she wanted, obviously, by the way she spat it out, but it was the closest she could come up with.

Chakotay stifled the humorless laugh.

“Life isn’t practical. Neither is love. If I remember correctly, you didn’t exactly fight for life when you thought Seven had died that time we were transported to the Alpha Quadrant.”

“But I carried on,” Janeway insisted. “Not well, I admit. Losing people I love is hard for me, just as it is for everyone, but I knew deep down that if I had given up entirely, all possibilities for the future would have been lost. After all, I wouldn’t have gotten Seven back if I had been so selfish as to promptly kill myself.” She looked stubborn. “Seven will find a reason to live as well, especially if she gives herself the time to find it.”

“But what if she doesn’t? What if she knows that being without you is so bleak and empty that to be condemned to it is nothing but a lifetime of torture?”

“You can’t know that.”

“But she does. She lived it, Kathryn. She only imagined it in a vague sort of way before, but now she knows what it would really be like, and she considers it too much to bear.”

“Killing herself is not the answer,” Janeway said, standing up abruptly and pacing about the living area of his quarters. “It’s never the answer. Even if it seems too much to bear at first, it can get better. She can’t give up.”

“But that’s her choice, Kathryn.” He could be just as stubborn as she could when he wanted. “You’re taking her choice away. Maybe you didn’t do it consciously, but you’ve certainly done it by your attitude. It’s tearing her apart.”

She looked at him angrily. “I’ve never considered you an advocate for suicide, Chakotay.”

“I’m not, but I do believe in quality of life. Like you, I think life is worth fighting for, but I also consider the alternative to be a valid choice in some cases. Sometimes death is better. It’s her choice, Kathryn, not yours.”

“This is insane,” she cried, throwing up her hands. “I’m not even dead and you’re saying that Seven should just kill herself in that event.”

“I’m not saying that at all,” he protested. “You just have to love her if she does decide that.”

“But I’d be dead!” she shouted, and he realized how far out of control this had gotten, never knowing the captain to actually shout at him like that before.

He took several deep breaths as did Janeway, watching him. By mutual, unspoken consent they took a few moments to calm down; the captain slowly loosening each finger of her hands that had been balled into fists. Chakotay took the time to go over to the sink and splash some cold water on his face, looking at his reflection as he dried it with a towel, noting how high his color had become. When he turned, Janeway had reseated herself in the chair, composed, her hands linked on her lap.

“I don’t want her to die, Chakotay.” She hesitated. “Nor do I want her to suffer a lifetime of misery either, but I do believe that she can find a reason to appreciate life again after my death even though it may be difficult.”

“Maybe she will,” Chakotay said gently. “But you have to give her the chance to decide that on her own, Kathryn. You show her every moment of every day, just how wonderful life can be. Trust in that. Trust that if, and when the time comes, that it will be enough to make her choose life. But don’t force her into a promise that you have no right to ask her to make. Don’t let her go on thinking her choices are not hers, that no matter what she does, she has no control over her future.”

She looked at him bleakly. “Is that what I’ve done?”

He sighed. “I know you never intended it. Honestly, you don’t have that power … not unless she gives it to you, but maybe she’s not aware that she’s passed the choice onto you. You’re a pretty formidable lady, Kathryn. You just have to help her realize that whatever choice she makes, they will always be hers to make.”

“I’m not sure I know how,” she admitted softly.

“Just tell her you love her, Kathryn. Let her know that will never change, no matter what. Death be damned.”

She regarded him evenly for a long time, then finally nodded. “All right,” she said reluctantly. “I’ll try.”

“That’s all one can ask anyone,” he said gently. “To try.”

Seven stood in her living quarters, looking out at the stars that seemed to pass by. She knew the streaking lights were a distortion of the warp field surrounding the ship, but it seemed that if she could just reach out through the window, she could capture one of those little suns in the palm of her hand. Then perhaps she would offer it to her spouse for having let her down.

Seven didn’t know why she was so frightened. She didn’t know why the prospect of living without Kathryn was so immediate and so terrifying that her throat closed and her head pounded at just the thought. The knowledge that making a certain decision here, or a different one there, could possibly result in Janeway’s death was absolutely crippling her, but she didn’t know what to do. She only knew she couldn’t go on this way.

The door hissed open and she tilted her head slightly. She did not have to look to recognize that it was her partner. She could feel Kathryn’s presence surround her like a palpable thing, brushing against every millimeter of her flesh like a warm summer breeze. She had not asked where Janeway had been going, knowing only that the captain had needed to leave after yet another futile discussion on what the visions might actually have meant. Kathryn believed it all a form of illusion, a form a mental trickery, and that Seven was granting far too much importance to what was possibly just a coincidence. Seven, however, believed that what she had experienced was extremely real indeed, but very delicate, leaving her in a position where the slightest deviation would keep her from the bright future granting all her dreams, and leave her condemned to the dark future. The Borg had no real concept of hell, but then, Seven had no real concept of what being without Kathryn would really be like … before Cirrilea.

Now she knew, and the knowledge was like a cancer, eating away at her. She did not react when Janeway wrapped her arms around her waist, feeling the captain rest her cheek against her back. She just closed her eyes, feeling very weary and not wanting to fight anymore.

“Forgive me,” Kathryn said softly.

Seven opened her eyes in surprise. She had not expected an apology from her partner, only another attempt to convince her that she was being foolish. She took a breath and turned around, looking down into her lover’s beloved features, seeing the soft grey of Janeway’s eyes, the gentle look of regret about the sensitive mouth.

A muscle in Janeway’s jaw twitched. “Annika, I was so busy trying to fix this, I didn’t pay enough attention to what you were trying to tell me. I’m truly sorry for that.”

Seven lowered her eyes sadly. “I do not know what I was trying to tell you. I do not understand it myself.”

“I shouldn’t have assumed that I did.” The captain drew back, bringing her hands down to take Seven’s in her own. “Can we sit down and talk about this for a moment?”

Seven winced. “I do not wish to argue, Kathryn.”

“I don’t either,” Janeway responded sincerely, brushing her lips over Seven’s cheek. “Please?”

Seven nodded reluctantly and they settled on the couch where Janeway turned towards the Borg, one leg tucked up under her thigh. The captain took a deep breath, and regarded her partner seriously.

“Annika, I love you and I won’t lie to you,” she said gently. “As hard as it would be to live without you, should you precede me in death, I’m going to choose to continue on. I might not do it particularly well, but I’ll always try to keep functioning. That’s just who I am. I realize, however, that perhaps I was forcing that choice on you when I didn’t have that right.”

Seven was silent, thinking about this very hard, trying to comprehend what her partner was telling her. It was certainly not about the visions, what they were, or what they might have really meant. This was something else entirely.

“Are you saying that I can … follow you if you are to die first?” Seven asked finally.

“I’m saying that, while I hope you would choose life, it has to be your choice,” Kathryn said softly. “We’re all masters of our own fate, Annika. I do believe that. You have to choose what is best for you.”

“You would be disappointed in me,” Seven said sadly, but with absolute certainty. “If I chose not to live without you, I would fail you, fail your memory.”

“Annika, if there’s nothing beyond death,” Kathryn said slowly, “then I wouldn’t be anything, least of all disappointed. If there is an existence beyond death, however, then I can’t imagine that I would be doing anything in particular, but waiting for you … however long it took. I would never be disappointed in you, no matter what you decide. Darling, I said that you’ve never let me down and I meant it. Even when I’ve been angry at you, even when I might not agree with you, or argued with you about them, in the end, I’ve always respected your choices. To do anything less would mean that I would not be worthy of being your partner.” She hesitated. “I realize that maybe I haven’t always made that clear to you, but I swear it’s the truth. I’ll go on respecting your choices, even beyond death if there is such a thing.”

Seven tried to wrap her mind around these concepts. “You do not accept death willingly, for anyone except possibly yourself. Yet, even then, when you say you’re willing to die for something, you do not. You find a way to survive.” She took a deep breath. “That is a good way to be.”

Janeway watched her closely. “Perhaps, but I’ve never been in a position where I’ve literally had nothing left to live for either. There was always something that kept me going; Phoebe, after Daddy died, the ship and crew after I thought you died. There will always be my career or family or even Jake … because that’s just who I am. Darling, I hope that somehow that you too would find something that enables you to choose life in the event that I should die, but if you can’t, then you have to make the choice you have to make.”

She leaned forward, wrapping her arms around Seven’s neck, resting her forehead against hers. “Whatever that decision,” she said with utter seriousness, “know this with every fiber of your being. I love you. I always will, no matter what. I release you from any promise I may have demanded of you regarding this issue.”

Seven closed her eyes, feeling tears sting her eyelids but even as they did, it seemed a dark weight lifted off her shoulders. Kathryn would not make her live without her, would not force her into that empty existence where there was nothing to live for.

It was a burden she would never have to assume, and for that reason, now she felt strong enough to face anything.

“Thank you,” she whispered, reaching up to wrap her hand around her partner’s elbow. She sniffed, managing a tremulous smile. “It means a great deal to me. Perhaps more than you will ever know.”

“I’m glad, darling,” Janeway said softly.

The captain hugged her tightly and for several moments, they snuggled together on the couch, Seven trying to accept that it was all right for her to begin healing from this. She scarcely dared to breathe, listening to Kathryn in her arms, to her respiration, to the captain’s heartbeat, absorbing her life essence through her skin. Finally, in small increments, the Borg began to relax and allow herself to believe that things would be all right … that no matter what happened, somehow Kathryn would be there for her on some level. She drew her spouse closer, nuzzling the warm auburn hair and loving the smaller woman with every atom of herself. Kathryn seemed to understand, simply holding her, not speaking.

“Do you think we shall have two children?” Seven asked after a long while. “Just as in my vision?”

Janeway’s lips quirked and her eyes grew soft. “I think we shall have twenty-two children,” she said. “If we want. It’s completely our choice, darling. It always has been. The future is never going to be written in stone, Annika, but that’s what makes life worth living. Not knowing what lies beyond the bend but needing to discover it anyway.”

Seven regarded her oddly. “Twenty-two?”

Janeway smiled. “Too many?” she said, and a hint of impishness crept into her tone.

“Not children,” Seven said firmly. “Just too many pregnancies.” She paused. “You do not do well with pregnancy.”

Janeway tilted her head. “I probably do fine being pregnant,” she said, using that tone which Seven knew was a gentle attempt to tease her. “I think you just don’t do well with me being pregnant.”

Seven opened her mouth to respond, considered it, then pursed her lips. “Perhaps you are correct.” She smiled briefly and looked into Janeway’s soft eyes. “I love you, Kathryn. I am very glad you are my wife.”

Janeway kissed her gently. “That’s good, because if someone else were, I think I’d have a great problem with it.”

Seven smiled again and settled back against the cushions, resting her cheek on the top of Janeway’s head. “Kathryn?”

“Yes, Annika?”

“I will not promise not to … follow you,” the Borg said quietly. “But I do promise that I will consider all my options first … that I will not allow fear to dictate my actions.”

Kathryn nodded and turned her head, looking at her directly. “I’m not asking for anything else, darling.” She carefully kissed her on her chin. “I think, that’s all I’ve ever wanted. As long as it’s your decision.”

“It is,” Seven said firmly.

Janeway kissed her again, just above the dimple, then gently in the little hollow just below her mouth. Then the captain traced the Borg’s full lower lip with the tip of her tongue, not wantonly, but delicately, carefully. Seven smiled again, feeling a gentle pleasure radiate through her. Suddenly, she wanted nothing more than to be with her spouse, something that she had been less than enthusiastic about recently. Seven supposed that even if she did not resent the Cirrilean Seer for frightening her, she would never forgive the female for having played a part in creating the distance that had developed between her and Kathryn the previous three days.

She flicked a glance at the chronometer. “It is late.”

Janeway tenderly brushed her lips over Seven’s. “I noticed that.”

“Would you like to go to bed?” Seven asked carefully. She didn’t know why she felt so shy at the moment, but she did. It was almost as if she couldn’t be sure that things were definitely all right between them.

“On one condition,” Janeway murmured.

“What would that be?” Seven responded hesitantly.

“That before we go to sleep, we make love … very slowly.”

“I like that condition,” Seven said, a touch relieved.

“You do?” Janeway drew away, looking at her with dark eyes, and Seven realized that the captain had been feeling a bit uncertain herself.

Seven hugged her partner. “I know we have not since before I took shore leave on Cirrilea.”

Janeway nodded. “That’s natural, I think,” she said reassuringly. “When we’re not happy out of the bedroom, it’s hard to be happy in it.”

Seven thought that was quite profound. “I wish I knew about things like you do,” she said wistfully.

Janeway smiled. “Darling, I wish I knew as much as you sometimes think I do. Then maybe I wouldn’t make as many mistakes with you as I have.” She nuzzled her softly. “I also wish I had your patience. No matter how much I blunder about, you just stick with me until I figure it out. That means everything.”

“You mean everything to me,” Seven said sincerely.

Janeway hesitated.

“Yes,” she said slowly. “I’m beginning to realize that.”

And kissed her with the most love Seven had ever felt in a kiss before.

Janeway leaned on her elbow, looking down on her lover who was sleeping peacefully for the first time in four nights. A stray strand of golden hair ran across Seven’s face and with the greatest of care, the captain gently brushed it away so that it would not disturb the Borg. There had been entirely enough disturbing the young woman lately, Janeway thought somberly. If it were at all in her power, then she would make sure there would be nothing that would ever disturb her spouse ever again. It was too bad that was a totally unrealistic desire.

All she could really do, she decided, was try to be there when she was needed, and hope it would be enough.

She wondered how much of what Chakotay said had been accurate. Had she really been blind to how much farther Seven had yet to progress? Or was he simply not aware of how much lay beneath that exterior, how many layers to the young woman Janeway had found in their relationship and how many she had yet to discover?

Probably a little of both, she mused. Chakotay did not … could not … know Seven as she did, the gentle heart, the simple wisdom that seemed to transcend the astounding intelligence. Yet, by the same token, Janeway had to admit that she had always accepted and expected more from the young woman than anyone else. It was very possible that she missed things about Seven because she was just too close to see them.

She sure as hell had missed what was really bothering Seven this time. She supposed that she could indulge herself with a good bout of self castigation and guilt, but decided to forego it this time. Seven didn’t need it at the moment, and frankly, Janeway was learning that it didn’t really accomplish anything beyond make her depressed and by extension, Seven miserable. Janeway had to remember she was married now. She couldn’t afford to waste precious moments on futile recriminations.

She smiled faintly, her eyes tracing the line of her partner’s jaw before moving onto the full lips, along the distinctive nose, and the large eyes with the sleepy lines beneath them. Taken individually, Seven had oddly dissociative features. Taken together, they gave her character, and a delicate, narrow beauty that never failed to touch Janeway, and always made her heart beat a little faster when she saw them. If people only knew how very fragile that command mask could be at times, such as in the conference room during a staff meeting where Seven would be relating some new piece of data, and Janeway would be paying far more attention to the way the Borg’s mouth was shaping the words rather than what she was actually saying.

She actually started a bit when the pale blue eyes abruptly opened. For an instant, there was confusion in their depths, then they immediately cleared and sharpened as they centered on Janeway. The full lips curved up at the corners and Janeway returned the smile.

“Good morning,” she said softly.

“Is it?” Seven said lazily. “What does the time read?”

“Around 0430 hours.” She’d had a new chronometer installed on the headboard so she would know exactly what time it was, particularly during these early morning hours. They had another hour before computer call … an hour and a half before they actually had to get up and do something.

“Have you been awake long?”

Janeway shook her head. “Fifteen minutes, maybe twenty.” She paused, regarding her spouse fondly. “I like watching you sleep. I don’t have much opportunity. You sleep far less than I do.”

“I am Borg,” Seven said as if that was all the explanation needed for that, and indeed, Janeway supposed, it was.

Janeway leaned down to kiss her softly. “You’re adorable,” she corrected gently.

“That, as well,” Seven murmured agreeably and Janeway knew her partner was back to where she should be … as if their lovemaking the night before hadn’t affirmed that quite nicely.

Janeway eased closer, sliding her thigh across Seven’s groin and resting her hand lightly on the upper part of the young woman’s chest, feeling the flutter of heartbeat under her fingertips. She pressed her face against the warm line of Seven’s neck, kissing along the soft skin, a small chuckle vibrating beneath her lips.

“You are not satisfied after last night?” The tone was amused, playful.

Janeway nibbled gently at the tender throat. “You always satisfy me, but it also doesn’t take long for me to start wanting you again. I’m afraid it’s going to be an onus on you that will last a lifetime.”

“It is a burden I shall be delighted to carry,” Seven responded, reaching up with her forefinger to place it beneath Janeway’s chin, raising her face so she could kiss her.

Janeway accepted the kiss readily, parting her lips to accept the tentative touch of Seven’s tongue along the inside of them, then gently, against her own. Joyfully, Janeway tasted Seven’s sweetness, the wondrous flavor of her, enjoying utterly the loving movement of the young woman’s mouth over hers. Seven’s kiss never failed to stir her, never failed to send a tingle all the way from her lips to the tips of her toes, which curled happily. Depending on how intense the kiss was … and this was intense indeed … sometimes she even felt a bit faint.

Her respiration had increased accordingly when they finally parted, and she gently drew her fingertips down the slope of Seven’s chest, brushing lightly over the velvet soft nipples that were a delicate pink, contrasting against the captain’s warm brown tips, which hardened in empathetic response to the Borg’s.

“Kathryn,” Seven whispered, a pleased breath of sound against Janeway’s temple.

“Do you enjoy that?” Janeway murmured, knowing full well that she did but wanting to hear Seven’s response anyway.

“Yes,” Seven responded in a purr. “It feels so good when you touch me, Kathryn.”

“I like touching you,” Janeway assured quietly, continuing to tease the firm little buds with her fingerstips. “Do you know how much I need to be with you? You consume me.”

She felt Seven smile against her hair. “I want to consume you, and I shall.”

Janeway laughed out loud, with sheer delight, and slid over to straddle her lover, resting her weight on her heels, Seven’s abdomen fitting nicely between her knees, with the Borg’s slim hips trapped between the captain’s thighs. Janeway looked down at the woman laying beneath her and felt her heart skip a beat at her beauty. Seven smiled faintly, reaching up to cover Janeway’s breasts with her hands, the palms warm against the captain’s skin.

Janeway leaned into the loving caress and resumed her gentle stroking of her lover, both women thoroughly enjoying the mutual exploration. The captain’s head fell forward, her lips parting so she could draw air into her lungs, and she felt a rush of moisture between her legs, dampening the thatch of wry blond hair tickling her most intimate flesh.

She moaned as she felt Seven’s fingers trail down from her breasts, stroking her stomach, over the softly rounded tummy, running lightly over her navel to tease her briefly then along her sides, dancing over her ribs. She settled lower on Seven, her hips undulating briefly, just enough to tantalize her with the touch of the Borg’s body against her. Then Seven’s hands were sliding down warmly over the captain’s hips, down the top of her thighs, moving inside to the baby soft skin inside.

“Like this?” Seven whispered questioningly. “Not with my mouth?”

“Oh yes,” Janeway gasped and rose, allowing Seven to slip her fingers up the tender line of inner leg to the junction where her touch was like an electric jolt, sizzling along her nerve endings. “I want to be able to look at you.”

She moaned as she felt Seven slowly enter her even as the Borg used the fingertips of her other hand to fondle her with the most exquisite care, the metal tips smooth and cool against the hot ridge of flesh. The Borg’s fingers were long, and moved deep within Janeway, stroking her with languid pleasure as the captain felt the desire build steadily, her hips moving restlessly against the hand and body beneath her.

She forced her eyes to stay open when she climaxed, staring down into the captivating and devoted gaze of her lover, connected to those pale blue eyes with a bond so incredibly intense, she could barely catch her breath. She trembled, crying out, then finally smiled with satisfied joy, seeing the smile echoed on Seven’s face, the narrow features soft with love and desire. Much later, Seven offered her lover a similar high pitched cry that afforded the captain almost as much pleasure as the young woman was experiencing. Janeway’s mouth was fastened firmly over Seven’s moist and sensitive flesh, tasting her with unmerciful tenderness as the Borg arched helplessly beneath her. Janeway so adored giving pleasure to Seven, loving how she tasted, how she responded so keenly to her caresses. She pledged silently to always keep Seven’s needs first in her heart.

When the chronometer finally ticked over to indicate it was time to start their day, neither woman wished to move, sprawled with sybaritic pleasure in the center of the bed.

“It occurs to me,” Seven murmured, tickling Janeway lightly as the captain squirmed in her grasp, “that we should not begin our morning this way. It can be detrimental to our dedication to duty.”

“Think of it as inspiring, instead,” Janeway threw over her shoulder as she wiggled away, and forced herself to roll out of bed, padding naked to the ensuite. Behind her, she heard a sigh, then the more enthusiastic sounds of her partner slipping out of bed and following her. The Borg caught up to the captain in the shower and the spray from the triple nozzles peppered them with needle fineness as Janeway laughed, fending off the younger woman’s playful advances.

“Oh, no you don’t,” the captain warned in a good humored tone as she grabbed Seven’s wrists. “Just because you’ve had the last few days off doesn’t mean I can afford to be late for my shift.”

Seven abruptly pulled her close, and Janeway felt the breath squeezed from her as the young woman hugged her tightly. “Thank you, Kathryn,” the Borg said softly into her ear. “Thank you for loving me … and for being there for me.”

“I always will, darling,” Janeway told her, drawing back to regard the pale eyes intently. “If it is at all within my power, my love, I always will.”

With complete and utter devotion they kissed as the warm water cascaded over their bodies, washing away the last lingering shadows of the past few days.

Epilogue

“That was supposed to be for Naomi,” Lt. B’Elanna Torres said, regarding Seven with horror. “I don’t want it.”

“It is yours,” Seven insisted evenly as she held out the furry blue B’Rethna in her palms where it quivered slightly, no doubt at the prospect of now belonging to the chief engineer. “Now that Naomi has received her birthday present, it is no longer necessary to conceal them in sickbay.”

“I think you’ve had entirely too much party,” B’Elanna responded icily as she regarded the fuzzy animal with utter loathing. “All this celebrating has gone to your head.”

“B’Elanna, ” Seven said with forced patience, “The creature has bonded with you. It can love only you now.”

“Since when?” B’Elanna responded in an outraged tone.

“I’m afraid Seven is correct,” the Doctor added. “When the creature bit your ear, it imprinted your genetic code onto its natural instincts. It will now look to you as the lead … bitch.”

He said the last with far too much enjoyment, the Klingon noted. She felt a growl rise in her throat which she forced down, very aware she was in the middle of a birthday party for the ship’s youngest crewmember who was regarding her with wide eyes.

“Oh, B’Elanna,” Naomi said, hugging her new pet to her chest gently. “I love mine. You’ll love yours too. They’re so cute.”

“I’m a Klingon, kid,” B’Elanna grumbled. “I don’t do ‘cute’.”

The engineer was very aware of Captain Janeway viewing all this with bright blue eyes and firmly compressed lips, knowing that her CO was doing her very best not to laugh. B’Elanna looked back at Seven who was cradling the small animal gently, her eyes narrowing.

“Why don’t you keep it for me, Seven?” B’Elanna said with sudden inspiration, immensely gratified to see the humor abruptly flee from the captain’s face. “I’ll come by and visit it every so often.”

Seven looked intrigued by this suggestion, and the captain immediately stepped forward. “B’Elanna, the creature is bonded to you,” Janeway said with the unmistakable hint of command in her tone. “It will waste away being without you.”

Since the little thing looked absolutely no different now as it did a few weeks ago on the planet, even after being isolated in sickbay away from B’Elanna, the engineer considered that highly suspect. She eyed the captain with blatant skepticism, and saw the auburn brows draw down.

“Plus, Jake would eat it,” the captain added succinctly.

Seven glanced at her partner, obviously appalled but apparently not about to disagree, a dismayed expression coming over her face that indicated she considered that suggestion to be quite possible. B’Elanna felt her head start to hurt.

“I don’t need a pet,” she said firmly.

“It needs you,” the Borg said insistently.

Seven handed it to her, forcing the creature into her hands. B’Elanna rolled her eyes as the furry creature immediately scampered up her arms, crawled up her front and on to her shoulder where it curled up, purring audibly.

“Kahless on a crutch,” she cursed under the laughter and comments.

Content that the pet was now accepted, the crewmembers who had gathered to see the presents distributed to Naomi … and the unpleasantly surprised B’Elanna … turned back to the party, eagerly partaking of the chocolate cake and strawberry ice cream. B’Elanna regarded the plate handed to her, and gloomily wondered if she could add some chilli pepper for taste.

“This is very good,” Seven said a few feet away with profound surprise as she took the first bite from her loaded plate. She nudged the captain who was standing beside her. “Why have you never offered this to me before?”

Janeway eyed the huge slab of cake and mound of pink ice cream the Borg had acquired. “Ask me again after you finish eating all that,” she said dryly.

B’Elanna sensed the approach of Harry Kim and she stiffened, waiting for the expected sarcastic comment which did not come. Instead, he merely stroked the creature’s little head gently with his fingertips

“Naomi’s right, it is cute,” the lieutenant said wistfully. “What are you going to name it? I have a couple of suggestions if you’re interested.”

B’Elanna shot him a sideways glance. “Want it? Then you can name it whatever you want.”

He frowned. “The Doctor said it was ‘bonded’.”

B’Elanna grinned, showing sharply pointed teeth. “Just keep it in your place.” Then paused, not knowing if she should say the next thing or not, but plunging in anyway. “I’ll drop by to visit it enough to keep it … uh, healthy.”

Harry regarded her with dark eyes, intrigued. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she replied in a softer tone. He smiled widely, and she knew that she was in trouble again.

Damn, she cursed and promised herself that this was the absolute last time she ever took shore leave with Seven of Nine.

The End

Back to Season Two

On to Just Between Universes

This story was written in response to all the noise Kate Mulgrew was making a few months back about leaving the show. At one point, she mentioned that she’d like to see Janeway killed off in some heroic manner if she did leave. Needless to say, I was not thrilled with that idea at all but I did start to imagine how I would approach the JB series in that event. The scenes that popped into my head of the two different ways I would end the JB series are incorporated into this story as Seven’s two alternative futures. Of course, now that I’ve used them, I can’t utilize either to end the series … whenever that might be.

Table of Contents

Epilogue