This is the 17th installment in the Just Between series.

This story was posted around the first of April, 1999 as the show was moving toward the end of its fifth season.

I have to dedicate this one to Marco because he never gave up hoping to see the return of a certain couple. So this one is for him. He also assisted in the technobabble but I tend to go my own way with it so anything that doesn’t work is my doing, not his.

There is a Wonder Wand Warning up for this installment for those who are not comfortable with the use of ‘accessories’.

Just Between Universes

G. L. Dartt

Feeling as if the weight of the universe was on her shoulders, as she entered her quarters, Kathryn raised an eyebrow as she saw the slender woman with the cropped blond hair curled up on her couch, the narrow features intent as she studied a padd from the large stack scattered randomly over the coffee table. Despite her discouragement, Kathryn felt her heart lighten, and she smiled warmly at her guest.

“Didn’t forget dinner, I see.”

Annika looked up as if just now realizing the other woman was present, her pale blue eyes brightening. ““I let myself in.”

Kathryn nodded, crossing over to the replicator where she requested a glass of whiskey and soda. She glanced back at the blonde. “Can I get you anything?”

Annika lifted her wine glass, still half full of ruby liquid. “I’m covered, thanks.”

Kathryn took a sip of her drink as she drifted back to the sofa, pushing aside some padds so she could sit next to her guest, feeling the warmth spread through her as the alcohol burned a trail down to her stomach. “How was your day?”

Annika smiled absently. “Same old,” she murmured. “A step forward in one area, two steps back in another. I might see the end of this project in my lifetime.”

Kathryn pursed her lips. “You’ll have to see it sooner than that,” she said wryly. “Starfleet won’t tolerate supporting this much longer.”

That provoked the younger woman’s complete attention, and she turned, regarding her companion with a laser gaze from ice blue eyes. “Maybe you should explain that.”

Kathryn sighed and took another sip of her drink. “Sorry, I probably made it sound worse than it was. It … I understand that it wasn’t a very good meeting with the brass. There are other projects demanding their share of the resources, and with only so much to go around …”

“Unless we have a concrete breakthrough soon, they’re gonna pull the plug,” Annika finished for her flatly. Agitated, the tall blonde rose to her feet, and paced restlessly about the small living room. “Damn it, Kathryn, this is just the sort of short-sighted vision that makes me wonder why I got involved with this whole thing in the first place.”

“You know what Starfleet expects,” Kathryn said, keeping a rein on her temper with an effort. She was tired and less tolerant of her companion’s standard party line than normal. “If you can’t fulfill it, then they’ll go to someone who can.”

That one stung, she saw, and she regretted her sharp words when she saw Annika turn abruptly and stare at her, a hurt expression on her face. Kathryn held up her hand.

“I’m sorry,” she said, deliberately gentling her tone. “I’m frustrated, too.”

Annika hesitated, then nodded. She remained standing for another moment, and Kathryn was very aware of the intense scrutiny she cast upon her. She tried not to show her feelings, hoping that her command mask was holding though she knew she hadn’t had opportunity to utilize it much lately. Feeling weary, she drained the last of the whiskey from her glass, wanting another one desperately, and knowing she shouldn’t for just that reason.

“Have you heard anything about your latest request for a transfer?” Annika asked gently.

Commodore Kathryn Johnson lowered her eyes. “I received a communiqué from Starfleet command this morning,” she said with difficulty. “Apparently, I am considered to be … too valuable here.” She stared blankly at the now empty glass in her hands. “They’re not going to give me a new ship. Or demote me back to captain.”

“I’m sorry,” Dr. Annika Hansen said finally, after a long pause.

Johnson raised her eyes to meet those of the other woman’s squarely. “Are you?” she replied coldly, wanting to take the words back as soon as they left her mouth.

But Annika did not react to the tone. “You’re not happy here and more than anything, I do want you to be happy … even if it means we can’t be together.”

Johnson averted her face, feeling tears sting the back of her eyes. “Maybe it’s for the best,” she said, controlling her voice with an effort.

“Hey,” Hansen said softly as she returned to her previous seat, reaching over and taking Johnson’s hand into her own. “It’ll work out, Kathryn, I know it will. You’ll get the posting you want.”

Johnson forced a smile. “You know I’m trying for a science vessel. One where you can come along in a civilian capacity.” She looked over at the other woman, feeling her heart catch. “I want you to be with me.”

Hansen moved closer, slipping her arm about the smaller woman’s shoulders. “Sweetheart, when I get this transwarp thing licked, they’ll be falling all over themselves to get the new coils installed on the ships,” she said with genuine enthusiasm. “As the only starship captain who knows about them, you’ll have your pick of vessels.” She paused, taking a second to kiss Johnson gently on the temple as her voice grew more thoughtful. “In fact, maybe that’s why Starfleet is stalling you. They want you here to take command of the first vessel we modify.”

Johnson felt a smile touch her lips. She didn’t know if she believed the young scientist’s optimistic take on the situation, but she couldn’t deny that it made her feel better to hear it. She leaned closer to Hansen, settling against the lanky body, enjoying the brief sense of security the arms surrounding her granted her soul.

“I’m sorry for being so cranky,” she said softly.

“I’m used to it,” Hansen responded dryly. “You’ve been cranky from the first moment we met.” She pulled Janeway’s face to her, and kissed her soundly on the mouth. “It didn’t stop me from falling in love with you,” she said in gentle reminder against her lips. “It certainly doesn’t keep me from being crazy about you now.

Johnson smiled and snuggled closer. “So what would you like for dinner?” she asked, changing the subject. “I understand that a new supply ship unloaded this morning with Alaskan crabs fresh from the coast. We can go out.”

Located on the fourth planet in the Sol system, the Olympian facility was a high security installation under the aegis of Starfleet Command where Hansen and her group of civilian scientists were working on creating a transwarp propulsion system to be placed on current Federation starships. Limited to authorized personnel only, it was completely self-contained, and boasted a variety of recreational facilities for its people; including gymnasiums, live theater, shops and an eating establishment named Frisco’s, providing the finest of Earth cuisine. The restaurant was a favorite of the couple, who had a table near the windows that looked out into the rusty rock formations of the stark landscape left pretty much as it had been before the extensive terra-forming the rest of Mars had undergone.

Hansen’s tongue darted out and flicked Johnson’s earlobe. “I was sort of hoping we could stay in tonight,” she murmured suggestively, her voice dropping a note or two.

Johnson shivered as the sensation traveled through her. “I can live with that.”

A chime from her communications console interrupted what was developing into a very nice mood, and with a sigh, the commodore rose, moving over to her console where she activated in the viewscreen. “Go ahead,” she said, schooling the irritation from her voice.

The stern Slavic features of Admiral Alynna Nechayev appeared, the Starfleet sector administrator regarding the Commodore with dark eyes. Behind her, Johnson could see the window that looked out over the sun dappled sparkles of San Francisco Bay and the Golden Gate bridge, indicating that the call was originating from Starfleet Command Headquarters on Earth.

“Kathryn,” the Admiral said, not wasting time, “I’m sending the latest results of the nanoprobe experiments to you. The teams on Phobos are having a lot of problems, and it’s hoped that your people can offer a new perspective.”

Johnson blinked, trying to adjust to this abrupt bit of news. “What of the transwarp project?”

Necheyev looked annoyed. “The consensus is that it’s lost a great deal of its potential. The council believe that these nanoprobes can make an immediate difference in the war effort with the Dominion.” She hesitated, then raised an eyebrow ruefully. “You can keep a core group on the warp coil construction, Kathryn, but start shifting the focus as soon as possible. We need those weapons.”

“Understood,” the Commodore said as the screen flickered and went blank. An icon in the lower left corner indicated the transferal of secured, highly classified files being placed in her data base. She took a deep breath and turned, looking at her companion.

Hansen was regarding her with frosty silence.

“You weren’t supposed to be privy to that,” Johnson said lamely.

“They’re yanking the rug right out from under us,” the scientist snapped. “You didn’t even fight it!”

Johnson firmed her jaw. “I have my orders. I know that’s not a concept you like very much, but it’s how it has to be.”

“There’s a difference between accepting the inevitable and folding without a struggle,” Hansen said harshly as she began to gather up her padds. “You’ve become nothing more than a puppet.”

That stung, and Johnson knew her dinner plans were disintegrating right before her eyes. When Hansen got on a roll about Starfleet and its militaristic aspects that were growing stronger every day the Dominion war went on, it was almost impossible to deal with the young woman. She simply would not listen to reason, yet Johnson tried anyway.

“Annika, we don’t have a lot of choice here. The entire Federation is at stake, and we need to do what has to be done in order to preserve it.”

“You know, I’m always hearing stories of how you were when you were in the Delta Quadrant, and honestly, I think you’ve lost something, Kathryn,” Hansen said over her shoulder as she headed for the exit. “You used to get things done despite the red tape and protocols. Maybe you should think about how much you’ve lost by becoming a Starfleet lackey again!” The door hissed shut behind her with a firm finality.

Johnson stood alone in her command quarters.

“I do think about it,” she said in a tiny voice. “All the time.”

Wishing that she didn’t … wishing that she was still a captain at the helm of her own vessel, in command of her own destiny, depending only on herself and a crew which would follow her into a quantum singularity itself.

Wishing that she didn’t have to spend most of her current existence feeling absolutely helpless.

One Universe Over

Kathryn Janeway of the Federation starship Voyager entered the captain’s quarters and frowned, wondering where her spouse of three months was located. Aware that the young Borg had finished her duty shift an hour earlier, the captain had expected to find her home waiting for her, especially since they had been planning to meet here before going to the holodeck for an early Velocity match before dinner.

“Annika?”

“In the bedroom, Kathryn,” the voice floated out from the other room.

Intrigued, Janeway crossed the living area and peered through the bedroom door, stifling a laugh when she saw her partner lying naked on the bed.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her eyes drawn to the juncture of the statuesque blonde’s legs where a simulated penile device towered over her groin proudly.

“I am determining the Wonder Wand 9000’s full range of options,” Seven of Nine responded, frowning as she perused the paddthat had apparently been in the plain, wooden box laying discarded on the floor. The lid was flung casually open to reveal the now empty velvet interior, that was the normal resting place of the Ferengi manufactured sexual ‘aid’. “According to these ‘instructions’, I do not believe we have been receiving the full value of this device .”

“I see,” Janeway said in a voice laden with amusement. She leaned against the door frame, and crossed her arms over her chest. “Am I to presume that Velocity is not on tap for this evening?”

Seven looked up at her, then flushed. “I lost track of time. I discovered that there were even more features than we were previously aware.”

Janeway raised an eyebrow. “You were … uh, using it on your own?” she asked, surprised at the surge of desire that went through her at this thought, her voice dropping to a smoky caress.

Seven looked at her oddly. “How could I use it without you?”

Janeway blinked, abruptly shifting gears. “Ah, well, that is sort of its original purpose,” she stammered, realizing she had just ventured into territory that perhaps she shouldn’t have.

“It is?” Seven was obviously surprised by this. She looked down at it. “You mean that a person would utilize this on … themselves?” She seemed intrigued by the idea, and raised her eyes to meet Janeway’s squarely. “Have you?”

Janeway felt the hot blush travel up her neck to radiate from her cheeks. “Uh,” she temporized. “There was those three days you were on that away mission to the Corvos system.” She found herself avoiding the young woman’s eyes. “I was … lonely without you, darling and … well, feeling sort of amorous one night thinking about our honeymoon and … it was here and you weren’t …” She trailed off, very aware of Seven regarding her with the strangest expression on her face. “Are you upset?”

Seven blinked. “I am surprised. I did not realize one could … pleasure one’s own self.”

Janeway searched desperately around for an answer to that one as her partner lay there, waiting expectantly. “Well, we can,” she said weakly.

“How?”

“Oh, god.” Janeway shifted uncomfortably in the doorway. “Oh … ah, pretty much the same way you would pleasure me.”

“Ah,” Seven offered with sudden comprehension. “You utilized it to penetrate yourself by manipulating it with your hands.”

“Yes,” Janeway said, acutely embarrassed and hoping that was the end of it.

“You enjoyed that?” Seven asked with intense scientific curiosity.

Janeway took a deep breath. “It wasn’t as … pleasurable as if you had been with me, but I fantasized that it was you that was using it on me and … it got the job done.”

Seven appeared to be considering this very seriously. “I would be unable to utilize it on myself in that manner.”

Janeway hesitated, then moved away from the door and took a seat gingerly on the foot of the bed, looking at her partner who was in a half seated position, reclining against the pillows at the head of the bed.

“You would not enjoy the penetration,” Janeway said softly. “We’ve established that, but there would be another way for you to use it for your own pleasure … if you’d like.”

“Indeed?”

The Starfleet captain’s eyes searched around the bed, finally spotting the small control on the night stand. She held out her hand. “Pass me the remote,” she requested, unaware she was bestowing a whole new meaning to a phrase that had been fairly common in the latter part of Earth’s twentieth century.

Seven picked it up and readily handed it to Janeway who studied the current settings before making a brief adjustment to one of the levels. She looked back at her partner. “Reach down and touch it,” she instructed gently.

Seven eyed her a moment, then did so. She jumped a little and glanced back at the captain. “You have increased the sensitivity.”

“Just relax and sort of … caress it,” Janeway suggested, giving Seven back the remote. “Pretend I’m not here.”

“You are here,” Seven objected.

“For the sake of the experiment.”

“Very well.” Seven ran her fingers up and down the phallus, twitching at the sensation. “It feels … good, but I would rather it were you touching me.”

“I know,” Janeway said, controlling her breathing. She was a little hesitant about how much she was enjoying this observation of her partner, but could not deny that it was sending tingles throughout her entire body. “But in the event I wasn’t here, you could do this by yourself.”

“Imagining that I was utilizing it on you,” Seven said, a dawning enlightenment appearing in her pale eyes. “It would be … a substitute.”

Janeway nodded. “One that you can make do with until … the real thing returns.”

“As you did,” Seven said in understanding, now wrapping her fingers completely around the fleshy shaft and pumping slowly, moving up and down as a piston would in the cylinder of her fist. Her hips were moving off the bed, and Janeway felt the sudden urge to get out of her uniform.

“Yes,” the captain said, standing up and tugging at her tunic, shrugging out of it before tossing it over to the lounger.

Seven looked at her and raised an eyebrow, pausing in her motion. “You are not supposed to be here,” she reminded her, humor coloring her tone. “Not for this experiment.”

“A good scientist is always prepared for changing variables, Annika,” Janeway said as she peeled off her sweater, the static electricity raising strands of her auburn hair so that it crackled about her face. “Continue your experiment.” She shinnied out of her trousers and boots, then quickly removed her undergarments, leaving her standing naked by the bed where she stared with avid eyes as Seven resumed pleasuring herself. “Just consider me a new variable,” she added huskily.

“You are enjoying this,” Seven noted with interest. “Watching me.”

“It’s very stimulating.”

Seven was silent for a moment, the only sound from her the increased respiration that caused her chest to rise and fall in a most delightful manner, her full, pink tipped breasts quivering as her arm flexed.

“I find,” the Borg said finally, “that I am also stimulated by having you watch me.”

“Human sexuality is a constant exploration,” Janeway noted with a smile.

“I think … I would be further stimulated if you would lie down, co that you were closer to me.”

Janeway’s smile widened. “For experimental purposes only.”

“Of course,” Seven said, her eyes shining.

Janeway carefully stretched out on the bed beside her spouse, raised on her side as she propped her head up on her hand, watching Seven manipulate the artificial penis. The captain knew that the device which fitted over the young woman’s clitoris had sensors inside which transmitted sensation directly to the Borg’s own nerve endings, making it seem as if the phallus was an ‘extension’ of her body. So by caressing it in this manner, Seven was actually stimulating herself, something Janeway did not think the Borg had ever deliberately attempted before. It stirred her, sent another surge of desire rippling through her which left her weak, moisture flooding her nether regions, her nipples hardening in the still air.

“Annika,” Janeway asked softly. “Can I change the settings a bit?”

“You wish to make the color look more like my own flesh tones,” Seven guessed. She smiled briefly at her partner. “Perhaps make it a bit smaller, as well?”

“If you don’t mind,” Janeway said politely.

Seven handed her the remote, and Janeway made the changes in the settings so that the color was no longer that appalling neon blue, and the dimensions were more consistent with Human male genitalia; approximately sixteen centimeters long and four centimeters thick, rather than the thirty centimeters Seven had been working with. The Borg never stopped her motion as the device adjusted itself in her hand, her eyes pinned on Janeway’s face.

The captain caught her breath as she met that intent pale gaze, and she leaned over, kissing Seven on the mouth, flicking the Borg’s lips with her tongue to part them, then deepening the kiss with passionate intent.

“Annika,” she offered huskily when they parted. “Can we save the self experimentation for a future time?”

“I believe so,” Seven responded, swallowing hard as she removed her hand from the device. “In truth, I had discovered a few features I wished to … demonstrate to you.”

“Indeed?” Janeway raised an eyebrow as Seven leaned over, and drew out a jar from the drawer of the nightstand located near the head of the bed. Seven opened it and scooped out some clear, gelatinous substance that she slathered over the Wonder Wand 9000, leaving it glistening in the ship’s illumination. “Been at the replicator recreational programs again, I see.”

“It is lubrication,” Seven explained, shooting a glance at her. “I understand that this facilitates penetration so that there is absolutely no pain.”

Janeway laughed. “My love, lubrication is usually not a problem with me.”

“I know,” Seven said, suddenly serious, “But I do not want to take the risk.”

Janeway hesitated, studying her lover’s eyes for a moment, remembering the discomfort Seven had experienced that one time they had attempted to utilize the device with Janeway in the ‘male’ position. It apparently had made a lasting impression on her partner.

“Thank you.” Seven smiled wistfully at her, and Janeway leaned closer, kissing her sweetly. “You really are the most conscientious lover, my darling,” the captain murmured. “I do want you to know I appreciate that.”

Seven slipped her arm around her and pulled her closer, kissing her deeply. “I only wish to give you pleasure, Kathryn,” she said against her mouth. “Never pain.”

“You never do, my love,” Janeway assured her, nibbling at the Borg’s bottom lip. She reached down and wrapped her fingers around the fleshy rod, rubbing it gently. Her fingers glided easily in the lubricant which, to her surprise, felt quite silky, rather than slimy or greasy. Seven moaned, and the captain smiled at her. “Have you arrived at any preliminary conclusions?”

Seven inhaled deeply. “I must conclude that external stimulation is preferable to self stimulation, even when the action is exactly the same.”

“Astute analysis,” Janeway noted dryly.

Seven kissed her, then settled back against the pillows, reaching over for the remote. “Now, I must show you the variables for which you must base your future conclusions.”

“All right,” Janeway said, amused and aroused as she dropped the control device into the Borg’s palm. “What would you like me to do?”

Seven glanced at her. “Would you sit on my lap?”

Since that was where the wonder wand was, Janeway knew exactly what that meant, and with Seven’s assistance, she carefully straddled her spouse, taking her time to position herself over the tip of the phallus. Seven reached down and guided the head to Janeway’s opening, holding it still as the captain slowly eased down onto it. Janeway put her hands on Seven’s shoulders to support herself, making a soft sound in her throat as she felt the hardness fill her, grateful that it seemed to have some form of internal thermostat which that always made it the body temperature of the wearer. As a result, it felt quite real, almost as if it was actually a part of Seven’s body. The addition lubrication caused it to slip into the captain with incredible ease.

“Oh god, love,” Janeway breathed as she settled onto her wife. She was resting against the Borg’s torso, feeling Seven’s breasts warm against hers, her warm skin silky smooth against the captain’s body. The couple rarely used the device to supplement their love life, but when they did, Janeway was always tremendously aroused simply by the combined sensation of male and female attributes working together to give her pleasure. “What now?”

“I wish you to remain still,” Seven told her.

“Okay,” Janeway said agreeably. “Isn’t that a little boring, however?”

“Have patience,” Seven instructed. “I do not believe it will be ‘boring’.”

Janeway laughed, blowing a strand of hair off her face as she felt perspiration dampen her forehead. Regarding her lover closely,she was intrigued as she saw Seven touch the controls. Her eyes widened as she felt the device suddenly contract inside her, almost as if it was withdrawing, then it expanded again, filling her with its previous size. It repeated the motion, creating a slow repetition of steady thrusts inside her, just as if Seven were actually moving her hips.

“Goodness, that certainly takes a lot of the work out of it,” Janeway exclaimed, torn between laughter and astounded pleasure. “How are you doing that?”

“A program of two size parameters set on a repeating loop,” Seven said, rather proudly.

“I like it,” Janeway said and pressed closer against the Borg, kissing her neck, shifting so she could feel her breasts move over Seven’s. She gasped as Seven touched the controls again, and a bump rose from the base of the phallus, pushing against Janeway’s hard little center. Janeway needed only to undulate her hips slightly to rub herself over the protrusion. “Oh my!”

“You like this?” Seven said, a pleased note in her voice.

“Oh, very much,” Janeway responded, breathing hard. “Men can’t manage that one at all. Clever girl.”

“I find it to be far more efficient this way.” Seven’s hands ran restlessly over the captain’s sides and back. “I can concentrate on you rather than the proper mechanics of my movement.”

Janeway laughed huskily. “Trust you to discover the most efficient method for using this thing.” She swallowed, moaning as she pressed against her lover. “Oh god, Annika, this feels so good.”

“That was my intention,” Seven whispered, seeking out Janeway’s mouth, covering it possessively.

She reached between them, putting her hands over Janeway’s breasts, squeezing them gently. With skilled fingertips still slick from the lubrication, she teased Janeway’s nipples, and the captain felt herself cast adrift on the combination of Seven kissing her hotly, the thrusting between her legs, the bump rubbing against her ridge, and finally, the feel of Seven’s hands on her breasts. Seven was not done, however, and Janeway jerked as she felt Seven’s right hand leave her breast and slide around to her back, the fingers sliding into the cleft of her buttocks, pressing against her anus. “Annika?”

“I promise to be very careful, Kathryn,” Seven whispered, not moving as she waited for Janeway’s response. “I will not touch you anywhere else afterward.”

“Gently,” Janeway responded huskily, granted her lover permission, trusting her utterly. It was not necessarily anything she had particularly liked in the past with other lovers, but she knew Seven enjoyed it, and was willing for the sake of experimentation to explore this with her.

“I will,” Seven promised sincerely.

The captain shuddered as she felt Seven’s finger gently circle the puckered opening, prodding against it provocatively, then finally the Borg eased her middle finger into the captain with the most tender of motions. Kathryn was aware that the jar’s lubrication still on the young woman’s hands had facilitated the ease of her entry. They kissed again, Seven’s tongue invading Janeway’s mouth as the Borg set up an alternating motion with her finger, slipping into Janeway from behind as the phallus contracted, withdrawing as it expanded. Never had the captain felt so filled, so penetrated all at once and she drew away from Seven’s mouth, groaning harshly, throwing her head back as she fought for air, gripping the young woman’s shoulders tightly.

It was overwhelming, the various sensations from the different parts of her body making it difficult to think, to remember where she was and what exactly was happening. It was as if there were more than one person making love to her, one from the front, one from the back and yet another using their mouth on her. She was suspended in a sea of pleasure with the pinnacle hovering just out of reach, the different stimulations starting to overload her mind. It felt adrift, darting from one pleasure center to the other, deceived by the ease of it, of; the two bodies pressed together, not needing any great exertion, just the brief undulations of Janeway’s hips to rub against the tantalizing protrusion. The device seemed to speed up, thrusting into her deeper and faster, and when Seven leaned forward to take a nipple between her lips, sucking on it firmly as her mesh covered fingers tugged on her other one, it was the final straw, the ultimate sensation that pushed Janeway over the top. Her orgasm didn’t so much sweep her up as it exploded inside her, taking her and shaking her as the captain cried out helplessly, climaxing so hard that she felt shattered in a million pieces.

She returned to herself, cradled in her lover’s arms, the device having stopped its motion, but still filling her. Seven had withdrawn her hand from the woman’s rear channel, and was now holding it carefully away from Janeway as the captain swallowed against a sandpaper mouth, clinging to the Borg unsteadily for long moments, trying to slow her rushing heart rate.

“So, what are your conclusions?” Seven asked softly. “Regarding this experiment?”

“God, Annika,” Janeway murmured. “That was … too much.”

“Indeed?” Seven said with great curiosity. “How so?”

Janeway took a moment, trying to catch her breath as she organized her thoughts. “It was incredible, darling,” she said finally, laying weakly against Seven. “Don’t get me wrong, it was really good but after awhile, it became more about the sensation, and less about the emotion we have for each other. I found myself … isolated, as if it were just me and my pleasure rather than my being with you.” She hesitated, nuzzling Seven’s neck. “I don’t know that I’m explaining this very well.”

Seven kissed her forehead gently. “I believe I understand what you are saying. As we progressed, I became no more important a variable to your pleasure than … the accessory.”

“Exactly,” Janeway said with a touch of relief. “It’s great fun once in awhile, but I like being with you, darling. This was … like having sex. Great sex, mind you, but when it’s all said and done, it was purely physical. I need more than that with you.”

“So you would not want to do this regularly?”

Janeway sat up, linking her hands behind Seven’s neck and kissing her on the lips, softly, sweetly. “No,” she decided finally. “It was fun to explore, and it was very stimulating as a change of pace, just as it was when I used it on myself, but I’d much rather be with you, my love and not with a device.”

“Very well,” Seven said in a pleased sort of way, and Janeway knew she had explained herself exactly right.

The captain was still shaken at how much the pleasure centers in her body had overwhelmed her, and how quickly she no longer cared who or what was causing it. Janeway guessed that she now understood how some people could become addicted to such things, but she was also very aware that in the end, it was not enough for her. Despite her explosive orgasm, she felt surprisingly … unsatisfied as she relaxed under the covers, waiting while Seven went into the ensuite where the Borg cleaned both herself and the wonder wand before putting the device back in its box until the next experiment.

The real joy, Janeway decided as Seven eventually joined her in the cozy bed, was this wonderful concentration on her partner, their bodies coming together in warm, sweet passion with nothing between them. The captain’s hands moved gently and lazily over Seven, granting her lover pleasure in the most personal of ways, sharing a deep intimacy with her in utter adoration and tenderness.

Janeway concluded that making love was far superior to having sex.

Though sex was fun … once in awhile.

Dr. Hansen threw down the padd in frustration, the equations starting to run together in her mind. She rubbed her eyes tiredly, then raked her fingers through her severe hairdo, leaving it sticking up like spikes, a single lock falling over her forehead. Leaning back in her chair, she looked around her office moodily, and tried not to scream in utter aggravation. She had lost most of her scientific team, large chunks of her personnel shifted over to the new nanoprobe project, which made it impossible for her to conduct half the tests she wanted. Anger flooded through her again, and she crossed her arms over her chest, glaring out the window at the rusty sand of the Mars desert, still touched by the sun that was setting in a sky shading from navy to black.

“Damn,” she said out loud in a petulant tone. If only Johnson had fought harder.

How? a little voice inside her asked curiously.

If she had stood up to that admiral, then the facility would be concentrating on the transwarp project, she told herself. I’d be several steps closer to a functioning coil.

No, Kathryn would be shot down, and possibly even replaced by someone else, her voice noted rationally. Then, where would you be?

Alone, Hansen allowed reluctantly. Again.

So here you sit, sulking for the past week in your office, her voice prodded. You know very well what Kathryn can and can’t do in her position, how much she hates the politicking and the maneuvering she has to do to make this facility work. Yet she continues to do it … because that’s what the job requires. When she makes a commitment, she sticks by it. That’s the woman you fell in love with. So why are you mad at her for being exactly who she is?

Hansen frowned mightily and stared at her desk stubbornly.

Don’t forget, this throws out your theory of Starfleet wanting to stall Johnson so she can take command of a transwarp vessel, her voice added with honest irritation. Imagine how that one feels to her and try to rise about your own selfish concerns … for a change.

An empty space inside her abruptly ached with an exquisite pain, and Annika felt her temples throb. How could she have overlooked what this meant to Kathryn? Obviously, her tantrum had gone on long enough, she decided firmly. It was time to bite the bullet and make the first move, especially since she had been the one being so cold and unresponsive for the past week. She knew she had to do something extra to make up for it beyond merely making an effort to restore communication. She needed something tender and romantic, something that would hold the door open long enough for her to apologize.

She keyed in some commands to her work console, using a few tricks she had discovered a few months earlier when a rift had developed between this universe and another. Two people, the counterparts to both her and Johnson, had appeared in this reality and it had taken all four working together to return the wanderers to their own universe. Her counterpart went by the name, Seven of Nine, assimilated by the Borg Collective at age six … something that Hansen and her parents had avoided by returning to the Federation a year or so earlier than Seven’s parents had. While working with this other version of herself, Hansen had learned quite a few things, not the least of which was that in at least one reality, she and the woman named Kathryn shared a deep and committed love. It had been enough for her to try to form a relationship with the Kathryn in this universe, wanting the same sort of love and passion filling her life as it did her counterpart’s. Though she wondered if Seven had as much difficulty with it as she seemed to be going through.

Probably not, she decided silently as she scanned Commodore Johnson’s psychological profile, something she shouldn’t have been able to access at all. My Kathryn’s a real hard ass.

She sighed as she finally found what she was looking for. A transcript where Johnson mentioned that she had received a rose every day from Boothby while at the Academy, and how much she enjoyed them. Apparently, it had been in response to a question about the significance of actions verses words. Roses would be just the thing to do the trick, Hansen considered analytically as she shut down the file, making sure there were no lingering traces that could be traced back to her.

Quickly, she went over to her replicator, spending a few moments debating over quantity verses quality, a dozen stems verses the simple elegance of a single bloom, the color, the size and all the rest of the variables. She forced herself to remember who she was dealing with here, and went for elegance, hoping she had guessed right. Steeling herself, she left her office, carrying the flower and feeling rather obvious as she made her way to the administrative level where the commodore’s office was housed.

She put a finger to her lips when she saw Johnson’s assistant at her desk, and because Ensign Jetal was a bit of a romantic herself, the dark haired woman smiled upon spotting the rose and waved her through without announcing her. Hansen slipped into the office, realizing her lover hadn’t heard the door because the woman did not turn from her contemplation of the landscape through her window.

For just a moment, Hansen was struck by the sheer loveliness of Johnson, the compact, small-breasted body standing at easy attention in the gray and black Starfleet uniform, the classic features in thoughtful repose, the soft auburn hair done up in an austere bun.

The sad melancholy in the blue-grey eyes.

Shamefully, Hansen eased silently into a position beside her, and offered the rose before the commodore who started slightly.

“I know you’re probably still angry with me,” the young blonde said quickly. “You have every right to be. I’ve been acting like a spoiled child who’s had her favorite toy taken away. I’m sorry.” She paused and gentled her voice. “Please forgive me.”

For a long moment, Johnson regarded the single, solitary white rose. Then she accepted it, bringing the bloom up to her nose where she inhaled the scent deeply.

“I suppose I should ask how you got in here without being announced,” she said dryly, and Hansen was both relieved and gratified to hear the humor touching the smoky voice.

“I have my ways,” Hansen allowed, smiling briefly. She dared to put her hand on one slender shoulder of the smaller woman, bending her head so that it was close to the commodore’s. “I’m sorry, Kathryn. Sometimes I’m too immature for my own good … or anyone else’s. Comes from being an only child.”

“Is that where it comes from?” Johnson said, obviously not quite ready to give in.

Hansen appreciated that. After all, a certain amount of groveling never hurt now and again, keeping one properly humble. For someone with the frighteningly keen intelligence the young blonde had grown up with, being humbled every so often was a good thing.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered again, moving closer and pressing her face against the soft hair, closing her eyes. “I adore you, Kathryn. I shouldn’t be taking my frustration at Starfleet out on you. You’re the only good thing in this whole situation. I know I don’t deserve you, but I hope you’ll give me a second chance anyway.”

Johnson seem finally ready to accept this, leaning against her and resting her cheek against Hansen’s chin. The blond brushed her lips over the other woman’s temple.

“I do love you, Annika,” the commodore said in a weary voice. “I just don’t know how to balance that with the demands Starfleet places on me all the time.” She paused. “I never did. It cost me my marriage. I don’t want it to cost me you.”

“It won’t,” Hansen promised her. She wrapped her arms around the smaller woman and held her close. “I know I don’t make it any easier. I need to be working with you more instead of against you, Kathryn, and from now on, I’m going to change that. If you think it will help … I’ll look over the nanoprobe data. Maybe I can even offer something that might open up a new line of research.”

And possibly wrap it up sooner, putting my people back on the transwarp project where they belong, Dr. Hansen thought, but didn’t add.

Johnson wasn’t fooled. “If you do figure out what’s causing the problem,” she said deliberately. “I can put your team back on the transwarp coil development that much sooner.”

Hansen grinned wryly. “Don’t rub it in. I’ve already wasted a week pouting.”

Johnson put her head back, looking up at the younger woman with a faint smile. “Why don’t you drop by my quarters tonight?” she suggested quietly. “I can show you the data then.”

Dr. Hansen reached down and kissed the tip of the commodore’s nose gently. “Only if I can bring dinner. I owe you one.”

“All right,” Johnson responded.

They regarded each other for a few moments, then slowly kissed, holding onto each other tightly, needing to heal this. Hansen enjoyed the sensation of the woman’s mouth on hers and deepened the contact, sliding her hands restlessly over the commodore’s back. She had always felt more comfortable in her past few relationships with females compared to those that she’d shared with males. She’d never been with anyone, male or female, who touched her as deeply as Johnson did.

Stormy from the first moment the Starfleet officer had taken command of the project, the interaction of the commodore, in the final stages of a dying marriage, and Hansen, who had been at odds with her parents over her choice of career, had been more combative than potentially romantic. Hansen suspected that much of their personal frustration had been taken out on each other in that first year, but after witnessing the possibilities for themselves in meeting Janeway and Seven, they had began looking at each other with new eyes. Now that Johnson was no longer married, and Hansen could at least speak civilly to her father again, they were trying to rebuild the relationship from scratch, one based on love rather than antagonism.

Perhaps this time, they would finally get it right. Annika could only hope so … with every fiber of her being.

One Universe Over

Seven angled her body slightly, barely avoiding the Velocity disc that shot past her. Without looking, she fired behind her, hearing the slight variation in whine which indicated that she had struck it, and that it had changed color. She leaped to the side and watched with satisfaction as the disc rebounded straight back and slammed into the chest of her opponent.

“Full contact, Seven of Nine. Final round, Seven of Nine. Seven of Nine wins, six to four,” the computer stated evenly.

Lt. B’Elanna Torres dropped her arm to her side, looking at Seven in utter disgust. “Damn, you didn’t even look to see where it went.”

Seven tried not to look inappropriately triumphant as she leaned down to pick up the two water bottles, handing one to the Klingon chief engineer. “I have been improving,” she said modestly. “Perhaps I shall even win the next time I play Kathryn.”

B’Elanna snorted her opinion of that, and flipped the top of the container, tipping it up to swallow several gulps of the cool, clean water. Seven mimicked the action though she was less obvious in her need for liquid refreshment, and she did not require as much as the other woman who was sweating profusely.

“How is your pet?” Recently, B’Elanna had acquired a tiny alien creature from a planet some light years back where they had spent shore leave. It resembled a cross between a kitten and a weasel and was almost unbearably cute.

The engineer shot her a look, as if suspecting the other woman was making fun of her. Since it was not something Seven was in the habit of doing often, the Borg was always bemused by the fact that was always B’Elanna’s first thought.

“Libby’s doing just fine,” the lieutenant said finally.

Seven raised an eyebrow. “‘Libby’?”

B’Elanna leaned down and picked up a towel, wiping her face and neck. “Harry named it,” she explained. “It’s staying in his quarters.”

“Is that not the name of the woman he loved back on Earth?” Seven noted in an odd tone.

“Yeah,” B’Elanna said dryly. “Not necessarily the way to get my attention.”

“Do you want him to ‘get your attention’?”

B’Elanna eyed her briefly, then shook her head. “I don’t know, Seven,” she admitted finally. “For a time I thought he really was sniffing around … and that it might be something that I would like to … uh, explore.”

“But not now?” Seven began to realize that she had assessed the signals between the engineer and the operations officer all wrong. It bothered her. She was usually better at that sort of speculation.

“I don’t think so.” B’Elanna frowned as if by a sudden thought. “You know, I think he just wanted my pussy.”

Seven blinked. “Your … pussy?”

B’Elanna gestured carelessly. “Yeah, you know, the ‘bar breath’,” she said, mangling the alien name for the creature. “I just refer to it as a cat because it’s easier to remember. Anyway, once I gave it to him, he seemed a lot less interested in me.”

“Isn’t the B’Rethna still bonded to you?”

B’Elanna took another drink. “Frankly, Seven, I think that whole ‘bonding’ thing is a crock. It gets on perfectly well with Harry. I doubt it even knows I’m not there most of the time.”

“Naomi’s creature is very attached to her,” Seven said, referring to the starship’s solitary child who had also acquired a B’Rethna from the planet.

“That’s ‘cause they’re never out of each other’s sight,” B’Elanna said, unimpressed. “The mangy thing even sleeps with her.”

Both women glanced over as the large doors suddenly opened, and Tom Paris entered the holodeck. He was dressed in the outfit Seven knew was meant for his Captain Proton holoprogram, and she was surprised, having believed that he was no longer running it since the unfortunate incident with the fifth dimension aliens.

“Are you finished?” he asked, regarding them warily, particularly the engineer. He had once been romantically involved with B’Elanna, and even after a respectable amount of time, there was still a rawness between them.

“It’s all yours,” B’Elanna said, without her normal sarcastic tone. She glanced at Seven. “Want to get some lunch in the messhall?”

Seven nodded, and they left the holodeck to Voyager’s helmsman, pausing to shower and change in the locker room next to the recreation area. Seven pulled on her plum colored outfit, the garment clinging to her body like a second skin, and put her long blond hair up into a restrained bun. B’Elanna padded naked from the shower and fished her black and gold uniform out of the locker where she had left it prior to their Velocity match. Casually, Seven’s eyes assessed the Klingon’s body, the tanned skin that rippled over delicate muscle, the defined spine. B’Elanna bent over, affording the Borg a good view of her cleavage, the full breasts tipped with soft brown buds.

B’Elanna is aesthetically pleasing, the Borg noted idly. She wondered what it would be like to kiss those fat little nipples, to run her tongue over the smooth skin of that generous flesh … abruptly she froze in utter horror, her eyes wide. B’Elanna glanced over, frowning as she took in the Borg’s expression.

“Is something wrong, Seven?” she asked, pulling on her trousers.

Seven swallowed. “I need to speak with Kathryn,” she said awkwardly.

B’Elanna looked at her in confusion. “What? So we’re not going for lunch?”

“I am sorry, B’Elanna,” Seven managed to get out before she fled from the locker room, acutely aware of the Klingon looking after her in total amazement.

Seven tried hard to calm her rapidly beating heart as the turbolift rose smoothly toward the uppermost deck, her thoughts in a tangle as she finally stepped out onto the bridge. She took in the command center with a single glance, sweeping from the ops station to her immediate left all the way around to the tactical station to her right where Tuvok, the ship’s Vulcan security chief was regarding her with a slightly raised eyebrow.

“Seven?”

“Is Ka – the captain in?” She found it difficult to control her voice.

He inclined his head briefly, but before he could say anything further, she was down the two small flights of stairs, bursting through the captain’s ready room door. She hesitated inside, realizing suddenly that she hadn’t activated the chime to announce herself … something she hadn’t done since her first few months on Voyager. Though it had never actually been stated, Seven understood that this was Janeway’s sanctuary, the captain’s professional space, and not even her wife could intrude on it presumptuously. Seven’s face colored darkly as she stood uncertainly in front of the desk.

Janeway, who was leaning back in her chair, angled away as she studied a report, abruptly swung around to see who had entered. Her eyes narrowed, the brief flash of anger giving way immediately to concern as she took in her partner’s sudden appearance.

“Annika?” she asked, putting the padd she had been perusing onto the smooth surface of her desk, rising to walk around the piece of furniture. “What’s wrong?”

Seven took a breath. “I am sorry, Kathryn,” she said, schooling her voice to a calm she was far from feeling inside. “I know I should not enter here without your permission. I did not mean to forget the chime.”

Janeway paused as she realized it wasn’t an emergency, and then leaned back against her desk, crossing her arms over her chest, tilting her head as she regarded her astrometrics officer keenly. “I’m sure you wouldn’t have done so without a good reason,” she allowed slowly. “What is it?”

Seven’s mouth opened but no sound came out. She closed it and looked away. “I have betrayed you,” she said finally, in a shamed voice. “With another.”

Janeway stared at her. “What?”

“It was with B’Elanna,” Seven said, her tone hushed, her head bent as she stared at the deck, tears stinging her eyes. She felt loathsome, unworthy of even being in the same room as her spouse. “In the locker room outside the holodeck.”

There was a silence as Janeway regarded her in total stupefaction. When she spoke, her voice was several octaves lower … with a distinct chill. “When?”

“Just now,” Seven admitted. “After our Velocity match.”

“I see,” Janeway said with difficulty. “How long has this been going on?”

“Approximately ten point seven minutes.”

There was another silence, longer this time as the captain took that in. When she spoke finally, her voice was gentler. “Maybe you should start again, Annika, from the beginning.”

Seven did not know what to do with her hands. “B’Elanna and I were changing from our workout garments,” she confessed miserably. “I looked over at her nude form and wondered what it would be like to … kiss her breasts.”

“And?”

“I … fled,” she said in a tiny voice, wishing she could stop existing right this moment. “I am so sorry, Kathryn.”

Another pause which seemed to stretch on interminably, and Seven dared to look up at her partner from beneath her lashes. The captain had her hand pressed against her mouth, her dark blue eyes studying Seven, and the Borg immediately dropped her gaze again.

“That’s it?” Janeway said finally, in an oddly choked voice.

Seven thought that she must have hurt her partner terribly, and she felt her heart ache with a sharp pain at the unsteadiness of the captain’s tone.

“Is it not enough?” she said brokenly.

“Annika, you didn’t betray me,” Janeway said after a few moments.

Astounded, Seven raised her eyes to Janeway, and saw that what she had assumed was distress was actually amusement, the captain trying hard to hide her smile. Seven was profoundly outraged.

“This is not funny,” she said, hurt and shaken. “I was attracted to another woman.”

“Well, her breasts, at any rate,” Janeway said dryly. Then, she seemed to realize how upset her partner was, and reached out, patting Seven’s forearm. “Annika, it’s all right. It’s perfectly natural to … ‘look’ once in awhile. It happens.”

“It has never happened to me,” Seven responded with dismay.

“Granted,” Janeway allowed, reaching back to retrieve the china cup sitting on her desk, taking it with her as she ascended the short flight of stairs leading to the upper level of the ready room. “But it’s a perfectly human response.”

The captain crossed to where a silver cylinder sat on the coffee table, unscrewing the top and pouring out a dark rush of coffee into the fine china. She resealed the thermos and picked up her cup, sipping from it as she sat down on the couch where she regarded her partner intently, her face softening when she saw that Seven had remained in place, too confused to move.

“Come up here,” Janeway requested gently.

Hesitantly, Seven mounted the stairs and went over to where Janeway was patting the cushion beside her, indicating she should sit down.

“I do not have feelings for B’Elanna,” Seven said with difficulty as she settled onto the couch next to her partner.

“Of course you do,” Janeway countered easily. “She’s your friend, and while I accept it’s entirely possible that you’ve never noticed before, B’Elanna is a very attractive young woman. You were bound to pick up on her physical attributes sooner or later.”

“But I love you,” Seven replied, almost desperately.

Janeway frowned, then carefully put her cup down on the coffee table and reached over to the young woman, wrapping her up in her arms.

“I know you love me,” the captain said soothingly. “I have absolutely no doubt of that.” She kissed Seven sweetly on the temple, hugging her. “Annika, humans are sexual beings, and sometimes we react to external stimuli as just that. I believe that’s just what happened with you. I appreciate that you don’t fully understand this, and I’m sorry I was so flippant with my initial reaction.”

“I do not wish to become any more human,” Seven said softly. “Not if it means I will stop loving you.”

“Darling, just because you had a physical reaction to another woman doesn’t mean that you will stop loving me,” the captain told her intently. “All it means is that … well, that you’ve progressed enough on your path to Humanity to react purely on a hormonal level to certain things, rather than intellectually.” She hesitated and smiled briefly. “I always knew you were attracted to me for my mind rather than my body.”

Seven looked up at her. “I love your body.”

Janeway put her hand warmly against the Borg’s cheek. “I know,” she said with a rueful smile. She took a breath. “Annika, I’m trying to explain so that you can understand this isn’t as major as you think. This falls very much into the social and cultural conditioning humans receive from a young age … conditioning which you missed out on as a Borg drone, and are only now catching up to.” She pulled Seven closer and the Borg snuggled against her partner, still feeling a bit flustered and confused, but gradually surrendering to the warmth of the embrace. The captain drew the young woman’s head down onto her shoulder and tried it from another direction.

“Annika, do you like my breasts?”

Seven glanced down at them. “Very much,” she said honestly.

“What about before we fell in love?”

Seven blinked. “I did not … think about them.”

“Why not?”

Seven tried to understand what her spouse was attempting to convey. “Because … they were just a part of your body. At that time, your body was … irrelevant to me.”

“Then we fell in love and my body wasn’t irrelevant any more, was it?”

“No.” Seven nuzzled her face into the captain’s neck. “It became something that I … wanted to touch. All the time.”

“Certain parts of my body such as my breasts are more … inspiring to you in that way, aren’t they? Just seeing them makes you want to touch them.”

“Yes,” Seven said slowly. She thought she was beginning to see where this was going. “Your breasts are very … stimulating to me. I associate them with sharing physical pleasure with you. My body always responds when you remove your garments and they are revealed to me.”

“Exactly,” Janeway said in a pleased tone. “So after a while, you simply started to associate female breasts in general with sexual arousal.”

Seven took a breath. “So it was not B’Elanna I wanted to kiss necessarily, it was just her breasts?”

“Well, I’m sure it’s wrapped up with curiosity and your liking for B’Elanna as a person and a whole host of other things, but yes, that’s essentially it,” Janeway concluded. “It just happens, Annika. It doesn’t have to mean anything. It certainly doesn’t mean you betrayed me. I think you just like the sight of women’s breasts.” She kissed Seven’s forehead gently. “That doesn’t, however, grant you permission to touch anyone’s but mine,” she said warningly though her eyes were a bright blue.

“I will not,” Seven promised. She hesitated. “May I touch yours now?”

Janeway laughed. “You’re incorrigible. I’m on duty, and we’re in my ready room.”

“Does that mean no?”

Janeway regarded her, a half smile on her face. “It means,” she said slowly, “that even if I let you, it’s not going to lead to anything … not here, not now.”

“I agree to those conditions,” Seven said readily, reaching up to kiss her as she slid her hand under the captain’s tunic, seeking out the firm little mound which she cupped, squeezing gently.

Janeway allowed this for several long, leisurely moments while they kissed deeply and slowly. Then, as their respiration increased and Seven’s fingers began to swirl around the tip, a distinct bump appearing through the material of the slate blue sweater, the captain reached up and took the Borg’s wrist in a gentle grip.

“Enough,” she said, a little breathlessly.

“Later?” Seven asked, obediently withdrawing her hand and pulling away from her spouse.

“Oh yes,” Janeway murmured. “We’ll resume this in our quarters in about four hours, Seven. You’ll be there waiting for me?”

Seven kissed her sweetly a final time before getting up. “I will comply.”

Kathryn Johnson leaned back against her pillows, listening to the soft respiration of her companion slumbering in the bed beside her. She glanced over, her eyes tracing the relaxed lines of Annika’s narrow face, the peaceful features of the woman she loved. She felt pleasantly lazy herself, their lovemaking having been extensive, yet sleep continued to stubbornly elude her.

Resting against the headboard, she closed her eyes as she thought about how this relationship had developed, and wondering about where it might be going. She had never been involved with a woman before, and although the difference she had discovered in this new type of relationship offered her a hope that maybe this time she’d get it right, her duty to Starfleet continued to get in the way. She had briefly entertained the idea of resigning her commission and pursuing a career as a scientist, but she realized that it wouldn’t be enough. Getting back into the lab full time was no where near as appealing as her need to get back onto a starship, to take her place in the command chair and feel the sense of accomplishment and authority that role provided.

She drew herself away from that depressing train of thought with an effort, and opened her eyes, blinking in the lowered illumination. Reaching over to the night stand, she took a padd off the stack and keyed in the code to bring up the data on the nanoprobe project. Her science team had been running into the same problem the scientists on Phobos had been; they could reproduce and enhance the nanoprobes left behind by Seven quite well, but when they attempted to store them in a power pack and utilize them in a weapon as the other universe had done so easily, the nanoprobes immediately malfunctioned, turning on the phaser rifle and literally assimilating it, breaking it down into its component parts and leaving what was little more than a free form sculpture. A free form sculpture that was kept under heavy security in a Starfleet vault, but still, a biomolecular construct that did absolutely nothing.

The illumination from the padd’s screen was enough to read by, and she ran through the data for what seemed the hundredth time. She knew Annika had been working on this particular padd before they had gone to bed, and she wondered if the young woman’s fresh perspective and keen intellect had offered anything new. She was intrigued to discover a line of figures that she had never seen before, and before she could stop herself, she leaned over and nudged the young scientist, waking her from her sound sleep.

Hansen groaned and rolled away, putting a pillow over her head as she attempted to resume her interrupted slumber. Insistently, Johnson nudged her again.

“Annika, wake up.”

“What,” Hansen muttered grumpily, sitting up in the bed, blinking blearily.

“What are these?” Johnson asked, showing her the screen.

“Resonance frequencies,” the young woman replied, still not fully awake, yawning widely.

“Where are you getting them?” Johnson said in puzzlement. “They seem like random numbers.”

“No, they’re from Janeway and Seven,” Hansen protested, rubbing her eyes and stretching slightly. “No one’s been taking into account the origin of those nanoprobes.”

“You saw that?” Johnson marveled. “After just a few days of studying this stuff.”

Hansen shrugged. “Well, you know,” she said in that tone Johnson had learned to recognize.

Annika wasn’t always entirely comfortable with her formidable intellect, though for the most part she carried it with an almost arrogant confidence. In an intimate setting such as this, however, the scientist seemed reluctant to have it pointed out, almost as if she were afraid it would set her apart … make her less human. Johnson knew there had been mutters from the rest of the staff about ‘genetic manipulation’, indicating they thought Annika had been a product of illegal genetic enhancement as others in the Federation had been, but the commodore knew better. Annika came from parents who were also frighteningly brilliant, just as their parents had been. It was inherited genius, not artificially implanted.

“Why would you even look in that area?” she asked incredulously.

Hansen took the padd from her lover, sleepily keying in more data. “Because, you and the rest are looking at these nanoprobes as microscopic machines … like those nanites that Crusher kid developed on the Enterprise.”

“You’re saying they’re not?”

Hansen shook her head. “They’re more than that. They’re cybernetic organisms, incorporating organic material … Seven’s material. They’re more like her cells, not just little machines she hauls around independent of herself. They’re a part of her.” She keyed in more data and handed it back to the commodore. “The nanoprobes we possess no longer have the cortical regulator to maintain their programming. As long as they remain in the stasis fluid Seven provided, they’re fine, but when they’re placed in the energy pack of the weapon, they’re no longer in sync with our universe, and they react to protect themselves and the host.”

Johnson stared at her. Though she was considered pretty smart on the scale such things were measured, there were times when she felt like she was back in the Stone Age, desperately trying to grasp the concepts of lasers, so far ahead of her did Annika think sometimes. It amazed the commodore, and filled her with a profound gratitude that she was privy to such thought processes. It had also occurred to her that Hansen was the first person she’d ever been intimately involved with who was more intelligent than she was. She wondered if that meant Hansen was better suited to her than her other lovers had been; that on some level, she had not respected them as she did the young scientist.

“So the nanoprobes are like white blood cells,” Johnson offered slowly. “When they’re removed from the fluidic stasis, they react as if they’re under attack from … the resonance frequency?” She looked over at Hansen. “Why?”

The young woman shook her head. “I’m not sure.”

“Why do they assimilate the weapon casing?”

“My guess is that they perceive it as their ‘host’, and that the weapon has somehow been ‘infected’ by the wrong molecular vibration so they try to … ‘heal’ it,” Hansen replied, maintaining the organic reference. “The mess we’re left with is probably the nanoprobes returning it to the proper quantum signature … which really doesn’t work very well in this universe.”

“Were Seven’s nanoprobes affected while she was here?”

Hansen looked at her in admiration. “Good question. That never crossed my mind.” She keyed in some more data, going over her figures a few more times. “Assuming that the nanoprobes recognized the quantum vibration had been changed in the environment around the host, they would become … more active, though that’s just a guess.”

“More active?”

Hansen shrugged. “More … efficient. They’d work quicker, make the host around them work better, become more efficient, in an attempt to counteract the outside environment.”

“Would that be dangerous?”

Hansen stared at her, then leaned over and kissed her. “It’s just like you to be concerned about someone you had met only once,” she murmured lovingly. “Don’t forget, Seven has her own Kathryn to look out for her.”

Johnson nodded. “I know,” she said, a little shyly. “But perhaps they don’t know. After all, it’s doubtful they’re working on a similar project that might allow them to discover this.”

“True.” Hansen grew pensive. “I don’t think so,” she said thoughtfully after a bit. “Seven is still partially Borg, after all, and still has the necessary cortical implant to moderate the nanoprobes. As soon as she returned to her own universe, the implant would send out a signal that would reprogram each nanoprobe, letting them know that the host was once more properly in sync with the quantum signature of the universe around it.” She leaned back in the bed and closed her eyes, obviously wanting to get back to sleep. “I think any improvements they made to her system would remain, but the nanoprobes themselves wouldn’t adapt any further.”

“What would happen if she didn’t have that implant … to reformat the nanoprobes programming?” Johnson asked, a sick feeling sliding through her.

Hansen raised a brow, though she still didn’t open her eyes. “I’m not sure. Without it, I guess they’d just continue to assume the host was still in a hostile environment, and try to adapt the host to defend against it.”

Johnson’s mouth dried instantly. “Would they eventually start to do to the host what they did to those weapon casings?” she husked. “Try to make it invulnerable to the outside universe, even if it meant eventually making it nonfunctional?”

Hansen sighed softly, sleepily. “I guess. Why?”

“My counterpart must have been assimilated by the Borg at one time,” Johnson said. “Though all the implants had been removed, she still has the nanoprobes active in her system. At least, she did when she was here. Starfleet Medical included that in the report regarding her genetic resemblance to me.”

That got Hansen’s full attention, the young woman staring at her companion, horror edging her expression. “That’s not good at all.” She sat upright and took a deep breath. “Janeway’s in trouble.”

“What’s the time period on this?” Johnson asked.

Hansen shook her head. “I don’t know. The nanoprobes instantly adapt here … but they’re being placed in a ‘wrong’ host. They’re in the right host there, and would probably ‘improve’ her as much as possible before replacing any organic components.”

“They’d assimilate her,” Johnson said flatly.

Hansen swallowed with difficulty. “Without the Collective or even the cranial implant to control how it’s done. It could take months, maybe even years but I do think that once they start, it would be an exponential thing; the more they improved her, the faster they would adapt.” Hansen put up a hand. “But I also think it would need a trigger to start it in the first place,” she said, trying to put a perspective on it. “She would have to be physically attacked or something, injured in some major way for them to kick in their full protective mode.”

Johnson swallowed hard. “She’s a Starfleet captain, Annika. I think we can count on her having been injured at least once since she left here.”

“Wonderful,” Hansen muttered.

They were silent, both contemplating this possibility.

“What can we do?” Hansen offered finally with a sigh. “Not only are they probably still in the Delta Quadrant, they’re a whole universe away. It’s not like we can call them up and warn them.”

“No,” Johnson said, settling back down against the pillows, feeling weak and helpless again. “We can’t. Even if we could, we can’t offer a solution. We can’t even fix the nanoprobes we have.”

Hansen shifted so that she was closer to the smaller woman, putting her arm over Johnson’s chest and draping a leg comfortingly over her groin. “They have our intellect, Kathryn,” she soothed. “Even if the scenario we envisioned came to pass, I’m sure they’d figure it out. As for our nanoprobes, just give me a few weeks. I’ll discover a way to make them work.”

Johnson glanced over at her, raising an amused eyebrow at the utter confidence in the younger woman’s tone. “I know you will.” She closed her eyes and snuggled closer. “You always manage to find a way, don’t you?”

“It’s my job,” Hansen noted softly. She reached over and kissed Johnson’s ear, nuzzling her neck. “Now, what would you say if I found a way to make you feel better.”

Johnson smiled.

“I’d say … go right ahead.”

One Universe Over

Janeway fired her phaser, the beam causing the flying disc to rebound off the wall and shoot toward Commander Chakotay. Voyager’s first officer reacted quickly for a man of his size, firing as he moved to strike the disc, and with a definite purpose, he imposed his body between the captain and the wall, reducing the area in which she could dodge by half. She took a few steps sideways, trying to brush by him in order to get a clear shot.

Chakotay abruptly went down, skidding across the deck until he was brought up short by the wall. Immediately the disc went neutral and shot to the ceiling, hovering there as the computer intoned; “Illegal interference, Janeway. Round to Chakotay. Chakotay wins, six to four.”

Outraged, Janeway lowered her phaser. “I barely touched him,” she complained, even as she knew the computer would not listen. She shot an accusing look at Chakotay who was lying on his back. “You took a dive.”

“Ow,” he replied.

She regarded him suspiciously for a moment, then realized that he really did have the wind knocked out of him. Confused, she went over to him, looking down. “Are you all right?”

“I’m sure I will be in a minute,” he groaned, wincing as he tested his arms and legs. He looked at her oddly. “What did you do to me?”

“I swear, Chakotay,” she said, “I was just brushing by you.”

He frowned, then sat up gingerly. “I guess I must have been off balance.” He didn’t sound entirely convinced, but he grinned at her. “Of course, I still win.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” she protested immediately. “Clearly that was a faulty call by the computer. I can’t be held responsible if you can’t stay on your feet.”

He got up stiffly. “On the contrary, captain, the computer is the final word. Apparently, your undefeated streak is over.”

Her jaw firmed and her eyes flashed. “Only if this match consisted of a single round,” she countered immediately. “It’s the best two out of three.”

“I don’t remember agreeing to that.”

“You just did, Commander,” she said, leaning heavily on the rank as she took her position. “Computer, begin game.”

He stared at her for a moment, and then with a sigh of resignation, he faced her, phaser at ready.

Two victorious rounds later, Janeway made her way back to her quarters, her undefeated streak still intact. She continued to be a little outraged at her first officer, unable to believe that Chakotay would try to steal a victory by using his own clumsiness. As if she could actually knock aside a man his size simply by brushing past him. She snorted silently to herself, and then smiled as she entered her cabin, spotting Seven behind the counter in her kitchenette, preparing dinner.

“Hello darling,” she greeting, pausing for a kiss. “I need to shower and change.”

“I anticipated that,” Seven allowed, smiling briefly. She eyed the captain who was still in her Velocity outfit, sweat dampening her forehead, face flushed. “Did you win?”

“Don’t I always?” Janeway said with a small smirk over her shoulder

She felt energized as she went into the ensuite, stripping off her outfit, tossing it into the recycler and activating the shower. The water seemed a little cool, and she increased the temperature, wondering why her normal setting didn’t feel right. Must be a defective thermostat, she thought as the steam filled the air. She would have Seven take a look at it after dinner. She scrubbed herself down using the rough sponge, and got out, toweling herself off briskly. She chose a simple silk, cream-colored blouse and navy trousers, dressing quickly before returning to the living area where Seven had already set the table.

She spent most of the meal describing the Velocity match to Seven who made the appropriate sounds at Chakotay’s perfidy, though she seemed to think that perhaps the captain was exaggerating a bit. Janeway gradually became aware of her partner looking at her oddly and she tilted her head.

“What?”

“That is your third helping,” Seven pointed out. “You do not usually eat that much.”

Janeway looked down at her plate in surprise. “I guess I’m hungry.” She flashed a grin at the Borg. “I’m glad you made more than usual. I must have used a lot of energy in the match … I needed refueling.”

“No doubt,” Seven said slowly. She was still looking at Janeway oddly. “In truth, I have been increasing the portions for you steadily over the past few weeks.”

“You have?” Janeway glanced down at her trim form. “Good thing I’m burning it off.”

“You are also acting in a very … exhilarated manner. I did not realize a Velocity match would excite you so much.”

Janeway thought about it. “It’s not the match, Annika,” she said finally. “I just feel … I don’t know … fantastic. I’m just full of energy.” She flashed a wide smile. “You should have seen Chakotay at the end. He could barely stand up. I guess there’s life left in the old girl yet.”

Seven blinked. “I am glad you are feeling so well. It pleases me.”

Janeway regarded her, allowing her smile to become sensual. “I want to do more than this to please you,” she murmured. “After dinner.”

Seven looked briefly startled, then returned the smile. “I look forward to it.”

Janeway smiled once more, and finished her dinner. Seven had a plateful of caramel brownies on the counter and the captain scooped up four for desert, snacking on them as she played with Jake who didn’t seem too interested. Janeway decided that had to be due to his new schedule of spending time with all the dog lovers on the ship. They must have tired him out considerably for him not to be moving as quickly as she thought he should. Perhaps she would lighten the schedule a little. Then she noticed that Seven had finished cleaning up the dining area and had just picked up a padd from her work console. The captain intercepted her by the desks.

“You can do that later, can’t you?” the captain suggested gently, taking the padd from Seven’s hand and placing it on the smooth surface of the desk.

“You were serious about making love?” Seven said with some surprise.

“Did you think I was just flirting?” Janeway asked, sliding her arms around the slender waist and nuzzling her lover’s throat.

“I thought,” Seven said in a appreciative tone, “that the energy you consumed in your Velocity match would result in your eventual lack of interest in any further expenditure.”

“Oh, I’m still fresh.” Janeway paused as a sudden thought struck her. “Unless you aren’t interested?”

“I am always interested in being with you,” Seven told her sincerely, if a trifle inaccurately, bending her head to brush her lips over Janeway’s.

Janeway purred as she felt the full mouth on hers, running her hands over Seven’s back and sides, sliding down to cup the Borg’s buttocks and pulling her closer to her as the kiss deepened, growing passionate. Suddenly, she wanted her partner with an incredible urgency, and she reached up to the back of Seven’s neck, tugging open the fastening there, peeling off the skintight outfit. Together, they stumbled to the bedroom, shutting the door behind them to keep out their dog who had an unfortunate habit of trying to join them whenever they made love, the animal believing it to be some sort of new game they were trying to show him.

“You seem … anxious tonight,” Seven said as she eased the silk shirt off the captain’s shoulders.

“I just want you so much,” Janeway murmured, tossing Seven’s outfit aside. They fell to the bed and Janeway was all over her spouse, kissing and touching the young woman’s body, using her lips and tongue to taste and tease every part of Seven.

Seven gasped, clearly surprised at the aggressiveness of Janeway’s assault but trying to keep up, taking her cue from her partner’s level of passion. Janeway gloried in the feel of Seven’s body against her, aware this was a bit rougher than they normally made love, but enjoying it anyway. A few times, she had to consciously force herself to slow down, to gentle her touch, always on the verge of crossing the line between giving pleasure and being too abrupt with her caresses.

Afterward, she lay in Seven’s arms, clinging to her, feeling the last tremors of orgasm shiver through her. She felt incredibly alive, acutely aware of every millimeter of Seven’s skin pressed against her. Seven held onto her tightly, her face buried in the captain’s hair, unusually quiet. Janeway drew back, gazing into her lover’s face, studying the narrow features closely.

“Is something wrong, darling?” she asked softly, stroking the young woman’s back.

“I do not know,” Seven responded, frowning briefly. “That was … different.”

“How so?”

“You hurt me,” the Borg replied. “Inadvertently. You do not usually do that.”

Shocked, Janeway stared at her. “What? Where?”

“My shoulders, and on my back.”

Janeway looked into the confused pale eyes, then glanced down at the pale smooth skin of Seven’s torso. There were marks over Seven’s chest and down her biceps, bluish red marks now darkening, and to Janeway’s horror, there were defined imprints of her fingers where she had gripped the Borg’s shoulders as she climaxed.

Seven did not bruise easily. It generally took a fairly substantial amount of pressure to even cause the skin to redden.

“What’s going on here?” she said in a small voice, feeling adrift suddenly.

Either Seven was suddenly more fragile than she had ever been before … or Janeway was much stronger. An abrupt image of her first officer appeared in her head, bent over as Chakotay desperately tried to breathe after she had defeated him in the final round. She, in contrast, had been breathing easily, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet, admittedly a little thirsty, but still ready to go. She had believed that Chakotay was in dire need of a conditioning program, but now she had to admit to herself that some of the shots she had managed were almost … inhuman. Not to mention the unrelenting endurance that had gradually just beat him down every point.

She swallowed hard and pulled away from Seven. “Something’s wrong.” She looked over at her partner who was sitting up now, regarding her with concern. “I’m sorry I hurt you, Annika. I certainly didn’t mean to. I didn’t realize I was … so strong.”

“You are not,” Seven said logically. “I am physically more powerful than you. I always have been.”

“But I hurt you, without even thinking.”

She looked at her hands as if she had never seen them before. Another memory crossed her mind, of being flung across the bridge and slamming into the science station. It should have killed her. Instead, she was repaired and back on her feet almost before Seven had gotten her to sickbay.

“Annika, I think … it’s the nanoprobes,” she said in a low voice, willing it to a calmness she was far from feeling. “They’re making me … ” she trailed off, uncertain what she was trying to say.

“More efficient?” Seven frowned. “In truth, I have noticed an improvement in my own efficiency recently.” Her eyes met Janeway’s squarely. “Not to this extent, however.”

Janeway managed a brief smile, suspecting it was more like a death’s head grin than anything else. “We’d better go see the Doctor.”

Seven nodded.

“I believe that would be … wise.”

Dr. Annika Hansen regarded the readouts with immense satisfaction as the cheers and cries of congratulations flowed around her. The propulsion unit had maintained its power level and produced a steady, measurable stream of energy that left no question about its efficiency. She had succeeded in reproducing a functional, sustainable transwarp coil that could be adapted for Federation technology. She felt thumps on her back from the rest of the science team, and provided some of her own to the other physicists as they regarded the coil glowing faintly in the test chamber.

Hansen looked around, basking in the exhilaration of her team. It hadn’t taken long to get her people back once she offered a solution for the nanoprobe problem, and together they were able to come up with a functioning warp coil in less than two months. In truth, she suspected it was what she learned from the nanoprobes that allowed her to make that final breakthrough, granting her the clarity of vision to realize she had been missing a key element in the structure. She decided that Starfleet was going to be pretty happy with the Olympia facility for awhile, which would translate into greater resources and funding being poured into the labs. After all, not only had they come with a way to reproduce the nanoprobes and make them work in phaser rifles, they now had provided an improved propulsion system which would give the Federation the very edge it needed to win the Dominion war with authority.

If only Kathryn was here to share the moment with her, she thought wistfully, aware that the Commodore had taken a quick trip to Earth early that morning to offer a proposal to Starfleet Command. She wasn’t sure what it was, but unquestionably, once the news of this hit, Johnson would have even more weight to throw behind her requests. Now that this project was over, Hansen had every intention of helping her … even if it mean accepting a position on a starship with her lover, and spending the next five or ten years gallivanting all over the quadrant.

Quadrant? Hell, with this, they’d be cruising all over the galaxy.

Annika smiled and turned to the rest of her group. As she did, she happened to glance up to the catwalk high on the wall, located behind a glass partition that looked down on the lab. Spotting the distinct auburn head of a woman dressed in the black and gray uniform, her smile widened as she realized Johnson had returned sooner than expected, and she waved, not knowing if the commodore could see her in the sea of celebrating scientists. Surely Johnson knew that something special had happened, and could make a pretty good guess as to what it was.

Hansen forced her way through the people, accepting the handshakes and good wishes that were showered on her as she made her way to the door. As she entered the cool quiet of the corridor, she touched the comm badge attached to the left breast of her lab coat.

“Hansen to Commodore Johnson,” she said formally, schooling her voice to calm. There was a pause, and Hansen wondered if she had imagined the figure on the catwalk.

“Johnson here,” said the beloved tones after a moment, cool and very proper as the commodore always was in public.

“Do you want to meet me in my quarters?” Hansen asked warmly. “There’s some good news to celebrate, and I think I just happen to have a bottle of champagne in the cooler.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Johnson responded with a hint of humor. Then added, “I need a few moments to finish up something then I’ll see you there. It will be nice to celebrate something for a change.”

Hansen didn’t know if she liked the sound of that, but she quickened her pace to her suite located in the habitat sector, a level down from where Starfleet and the Commodore maintained their quarters. Although it occurred to her as she walked in and saw the mess that was her usual style of existing, that perhaps she should have suggested they meet in Johnson’s quarters instead.

Quickly, the blonde scooped up the clothes scattered haphazardly about the place, dumping them onto the floor of her bedroom closet, then gathered up all the dirty dishes and spare padds littering the various tables and counters. She threw the padds on her work console where several stacks already teetered uncertainly, and shoved the dishes into the recycler where it hummed as it reduced them to their component atoms, storing their pattern in the replicator buffer for the next time. Hansen didn’t have time to do anything about the dust, but she tried to plump up the pillows squashed into the furrows between the cushions.

She wondered if Johnson would ever ask her to share quarters with her and how much adjusting that would take. The commodore tended to keep her suite spartan and neat in the best Starfleet tradition, though Hansen was also aware the Commodore had a lowly ensign for whom keeping the CO’s quarters clean was part of his duties. Maybe if Hansen had a lackey, she decided, her place would be spotless all the time, too. She wondered if she did move in with Johnson, would the commodore’s lackey automatically become hers as well?

The door chime sounded, and she made another sweep around the room, kicking an previously overlooked pair of tennis shoes underneath the sofa before she answered it. Commodore Johnson regarded her sardonically, a brief smile on her lips as she entered.

“Did I give you enough time?”

“Enough time for what?” Hansen responded blankly.

“To clean up the worst of the debris,” the older woman said with a smile as she sat down on the couch. She winced and leaned to the side, pulling out a padd out from beneath her and laying it gently on the coffee table.

Hansen made a face at her companion. “I’ll have you know I have better things to do than worry about quarters maintenance.” She paused. “Like building a functional transwarp coil.”

Johnson’s smile was wide, and quite genuine. “I hoped that was what the celebrating was about.”

She held out her arms and Hansen went over eagerly, accepting the embrace that pulled her onto the couch next to the smaller woman. They kissed sweetly for a few moments, not only to share the joy of Hansen’s success but to welcome the commodore home, and it took a few moments before the scientist drew back, regarding her lover fondly.

“It really works, Kathryn,” she told her, enthusiasm edging her tone. “Another year, and Starfleet will be able to have half their deep space vessels modified.”

“That’s really good news,” Johnson said sincerely. “I’m so proud of you.”

Hansen blushed, honestly pleased at the compliment though from anyone else, she would have immediately brushed it off. “Thank you,” she said shyly. Then her eyes narrowed as she studied her companion, taking in the lines around the eyes. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Johnson said in the sort of way Hansen knew was certainly something … but not anything the commodore was ready to talk about right at the moment. The older woman offered a smile that appeared a little forced. “Did you mention champagne?”

Annika hesitated, wondering if she should pin down the elusive Starfleet officer, before deciding that a little bubbly might be just the thing to make Johnson a little more approachable. She smiled and kissed her again. “Give me a minute.”

She uncoiled from the sofa, and went over to the small dining area where the table, replicator and wine cooler were located. Requesting a couple of champagne flutes from the replicator that obligingly materialized them, she placed them on the table, and drew out a bottle of Chateau Picard ‘03 from the cooler. It had been a gift from her mother upon Annika’s graduation from the Daystrom Institute five years earlier, and she had been saving it for a special occasion. This seemed like as good as any, particularly since Johnson was involved. She decided that the fact that Erin Hansen and her daughter couldn’t stay in a room together for more than ten minutes without tangling about Annika’s decision to work for Starfleet was not going to keep her from enjoying the vintage one iota.

She struggled with the cork, and Johnson rose from the couch.

“Allow me,” she offered gently.

The Commodore took the corkscrew and neatly inserted it, cracking open the bottle with a minimum of fuss, though Annika had hoped to get the traditional popping of the cork. It saved the wine from foaming up and losing a good portion of it on the suite carpeting. Johnson poured the golden fluid into the glasses and placed the bottle on the table, handing one of the glasses to the scientist.

“To you and your team.” Johnson’s eyes seem to soften and she raised her glass. “To your brilliance and tenacity which never wavered.”

Annika smiled. “To you,” she returned softly. “Who even when I drove you crazy, stood behind me to push me to heights I never thought I could reach.”

They clinked their glasses as Johnson blushed and the commodore sipped at her champagne, clearly pleased by the toast. Hansen took a few long swallows though she didn’t particularly like champagne all that much, then reached out for the commodore’s hand.

“Come sit with me,” she requested quietly.

They settled on the sofa once more, snuggled together side by side on the cushions.

“Can you tell me why you had to go to Earth so early this morning?” Hansen offered quietly, hoping she merely sounded curious rather than nosey.

Johnson regarded the glass in her hands. For a long moment, she didn’t speak and Hansen thought that she wouldn’t answer her query at all before the commodore took a deep breath, letting it out with almost a sigh.

“I wanted our next project to be opening a rift to the other universe. The one where Janeway and Seven are.”

Hansen blinked, stunned. She had suspected a lot of possibilities, but not this.

“And?” she returned finally, after having considered a lot of other responses and discarding them.

“The admiral refused, of course. Apparently there isn’t enough potential for future rewards.” She tipped her glass up and took a few swallows. “I didn’t have anything to convince her otherwise.”

Hansen absorbed this, looking at it from all angles with her analytical mind. “Why do you want to?”

Johnson looked at her. She had allowed her normal impassiveness to slide away, leaving only the woman … only Kathryn. She looked perplexed, yearning, as if not quite understanding it herself, but knowing it was something she needed to do nonetheless.

“Do you remember what we discussed about what the nanoprobes could do to their host?” At Hansen’s nod, she continued. “It haunts me, Annika. I have to know Captain Janeway and Seven are all right. I don’t know why, I just do.”

“All right,” Hansen said, biting back her first incredulous response. “How do you propose we do this.”

Johnson shot her a look of gratitude for her companion’s easy acceptance of what must have been very difficult for the commodore to confide.

“I’ve been studying the data we accumulated when they returned to their own dimension,” Johnson revealed, animation lacing her tone as she spoke. “I think if we can find a way to match the quantum signature of that universe to a vessel, specifically Voyager, within this one, it can open up a doorway to their Voyager over there, regardless of where it happens to be.”

“This universe’s Voyager is in mothballs,” Hansen pointed out delicately. “I don’t even think it has any atmosphere left at this point.”

That was still a wee bit of a sore spot with Johnson. The ship’s gel packs, a state-of-the-art engineering breakthrough five years earlier, had turned out to be very fragile and inefficient for continuing use. Upon its return to the Alpha Quadrant, the ship was decommissioned rather than upgraded for use in the fleet. It was currently drifting in a stationary orbit in the Utopia Planetia shipyards off Mars. Hansen had suspected that Starfleet might have been keeping it back in order to test the new transwarp coil on it, but with all the decisions that had come down recently, it was hard to tell. Still, it was unusual that an Intrepid-class vessel was left to sit for no reason at all.

“That may be changing very soon,” Johnson said mysteriously. “The real problem is the energy requirements such an attempt would require.” She glanced at Annika shyly, from beneath her lashes. “Maybe you could go over the numbers, give me something concrete?”

Hansen quirked an eyebrow. Johnson seemed pretty serious about this … far more than she had anticipated. “I could do that.”

Johnson beamed and Hansen wondered if she had just stepped into something she shouldn’t have. She took a breath, putting up a hand to slow her companion. “When I get a chance,” she added. “The next phase of the transwarp coil project is going to start immediately, and I suspect I’m going to be quite busy. Now we have to see if we can get a ship with an integrity field strong enough to fly at that speed.”

Johnson frowned. “Could you look at my data tonight?”

Hansen regarded her narrowly. “I suppose so.”

Johnson was immediately off the couch and across the room to Hansen’s work console, pushing aside the stacks of padds, some of which fell to the carpet without the woman seeming to notice. Hansen was really disturbed at this point and she got up more slowly, moving over to look over the commodore’s shoulder as Johnson brought up the files from the Starfleet data base. They had a lot of classified overlays to them, and Hansen wondered idly how Johnson was able to get into them so easily, or why she would go through all the necessary and extensive documentation needed to retrieve them.

It never once occurred to her that perhaps Johnson hadn’t acquired them through proper channels.

Hansen’s eyes narrowed as she went over the equations being displayed, and she reached by Johnson who settled back in the chair, allowing the younger woman access to the touch pad. Hansen keyed a few commands in, then raised an eyebrow.

“Honestly, Kathryn,” she murmured. “This would take an amazing amount of power. If you had Voyager in mind to do this, not only would her dismantled engines and warp core have to be replaced, we’d need to increase the power output at least tenfold. I can’t see it happening.”

Johnson nodded though she didn’t seem particularly surprised by Hansen’s findings. “I had considered that.” She paused. “There is another way.”

“Really?” Hansen offered, glancing at her companion. The even blue gray eyes were evaluating her steadily, a glint in them that the younger woman could not translate … not immediately. Johnson was patient, however, and it finally dawned on Annika … along with a great deal of dismay. “No, Kathryn. Oh, no.”

“It would work though, wouldn’t it?” Johnson pressed as Hansen walked away from her, pacing animatedly about the living room. “If we combined projects?”

“Oh god, Kathryn,” Hansen said, staring at her as if the commodore had lost her mind. “You can’t possibly be suggesting what I think you’re suggesting.”

“If I can get Voyager to be used as the test vessel for your transwarp coil,” Johnson said calmly. “It would have more than enough power.”

Hansen shook her head, eyes wide. “This isn’t like you, Kathryn. How would you get this past Starfleet? They’ve already turned you down.”

“That was before I knew we had a functional transwarp coil,” Johnson reminded her. She paused. “Besides, we wouldn’t have to tell them. The nature of any tests is entirely up to the project head … me … if I can get the civilian scientist team leader … that’s you … to agree.” She tilted her head slightly. “Do you agree?”

Hansen was speechless. “Why do you want to do this?” she asked finally, in a faint voice.

“Because, we owe them,” Johnson barked, suddenly energized as she bounded from her seat. “For our relationship, for being able to look at each other as more than merely roles we resented.” Her face was suddenly ablaze with passionate resolve, and what Hansen recognized with a distinct thrill, was command authority. “Now our counterparts are probably in trouble by virtue of having visited this reality, and by the time they realize it, it could be too late for them to find the same kind of solution we did to stabilize the out-of-sync nanoprobes. My god, it took you months to find the proper commands to reformat the nanoprobes. All we need is to be able to contact them and tell them what to do.” She looked at Hansen pleadingly, hands clenched into fists. “I need to do this, Annika,” she added, her voice carefully controlled. “Will you help me?”

Hansen swallowed hard. She had never seen her companion like this. It was almost as if Johnson was finding herself again, finding the captain that had been buried deep inside, smothered under the layers of protocols and regulations. The young woman found it astounding and … she had to admit … incredibly attractive. Who would have thought? Kathryn Johnson, a rebel … not the by-the-book commander Hansen had always assumed she’d been. Was this how she had been in the Delta Quadrant with only herself to rely on?

“All right, I’ll help you.” She frowned. “It could take months though,” she added warningly. “It might be too late by then.”

“It won’t be too late,” Johnson told her with absolute assurance. “We’ll get to them in time.” She smiled, a heartbreakingly vivid and reckless smile. “In any event, we’ll have tried.”

“That’s all that really counts.”

One Universe Over

Seven leaned over the biobed, trying to smile encouragingly as she looked down on her partner, noting that yet another starburst had appeared on the beloved face, and that more of the lovely auburn hair had fallen away. Only a few clumps remained now, a few strands hanging limply from the white, mottled skin that sported more than a few of the black and silver implants. Despite the Doctor’s best effort, despite all of Seven and B’Elanna’s extensive knowledge, the assimilation continued to progress, though their combined efforts had managed to slow it somewhat.

The red rimmed eyes, still blue gray though overlaid with a silver sheen, blinked and focused on Seven.

“Hello darling,” Janeway whispered.

Lying on her back, immobilized by the machines fighting a losing battle against the millions of nanoprobes that were shutting down the Starfleet captain, little remained of the vital woman Janeway had been only two weeks before.

“How are you feeling?” Seven asked, knowing the question was inane, but unable to come up with anything better. Tentatively, she stroked her partner’s cheek, the skin feeling parchment thin over the hard, metallic shell beneath. The Borg didn’t even know if her partner could even feel her touch any more.

The lips, dry and parched, twitched briefly. “Not so good,” Janeway responded softly. Though there was a hint of the old, defiant humor in her tone, it was mostly gone now. Her words were a trifle slurred, as if she was having trouble structuring them. “I can’t move my neck anymore.”

Seven blinked rapidly, refusing to let loose the tears stinging the back of her eyes. “We will find a way,” she said desperately. “We will.”

“I know.” The eyes brightened a bit; though from anger or encouragement, Seven could not tell.

“I will fix this, Kathryn,” Seven said again.

She felt so frightened, so completely helpless. Her wife was being turned into a metal construct right before her eyes and she could not stop it, her vaunted intellect unable find a way to help her. She had been up for days, working feverishly, driving the other crewmembers around her unmercifully, though any one of them would have gladly given their life if it meant a cure for the captain.

“We have been prodding at Harry Kim a great deal,” she added, trying hard for something, anything positive. “His nanoprobes are remaining dormant. We think it is because he was injected with reconstructed ones that the Doctor enhanced rather than being assimilated as we were. Logically, therefore, it has to be the Borg element. We are also studying my nanoprobes. They show the same kind of enhancement yours does, but they ceased their advancement at a certain point. If we can determine why they stopped, perhaps we will be able to stop yours.”

Janeway regarded her evenly. “Leaving me in this state?” The tip of her tongue reached out, ran over her lips though it held no moisture to wet them at all. “Annika, I once told you I would always choose life whenever possible, and I didn’t understand why you wouldn’t, no matter what. I believe I do, now.”

“Kathryn,” Seven said weakly. “Please do not say that.”

“Annika, I don’t want to live the rest of my life like this,” the captain rasped. “Promise me … if the only choice is between this state and not … saving me, then you’ll let me go.”

“I will not,” Seven told her furiously. “I will not let you go.” She could no longer hold back the tears. “If you die, I will follow the very next moment. I swear that to you.”

“Annika …” Janeway began.

“No!” Seven leaned closer. “I will not give up on you, Kathryn. Do not dare to give up on yourself. Or on me.”

Janeway’s eyes closed. A single tear appeared at the corner of her right one, trembled for a brief instance, then slid slowly down the hollowed cheek. Seven had thought the captain’s tear ducts had become nonfunctional. She discovered she had been wrong.

“All right,” Janeway said finally, in a shaky voice. “I promise … I’ll fight to the end.”

“Thank you,” Seven whispered, almost overcome with relief. She lay her head down on the chest that was bulging from the mutated thoracic implant covering the woman’s torso from her neck down, merging into the misshapen abdominal ridging where Janeway’s stomach had been.

“Annika,” Janeway husked.

Seven raised her head so that the captain could see her face.

“Yes, Kathryn.”

“I don’t know how much longer … I’ll be able to speak,” Janeway said. “It’s already … hard for me to form words.”

“Have faith, Kathryn.”

“Come closer.”

Seven did, bending over her until there was only a breath between them.

“I love you, Annika,” Janeway said intently, enunciating each word with exquisite care. “I always will, no matter what form I end up. You have brought joy to my life in so many ways, have opened my heart and my soul to a passion and energy I have never known and would never have known had you not loved me. You are the best thing that ever happened to me, Annika Hansen … Seven of Nine, my darling heart. To be married to you, to have shared the past two years with you, has given me a lifetime’s worth of happiness. Don’t ever doubt that. Keep it forever close to you no matter what happens.”

“I love you, Kathryn,” Seven whispered, unable to say anything else. “I always shall.” She bent closer and gently pressed her lips against the captain’s, tasting the salt sweet flavor of their combined tears. “Continue to live, my love. Please, just continue to live.”

“I’ll do my best,” Janeway said quietly, her eyes sliding shut. The small store of reserve she maintained became quickly exhausted during these brief periods of consciousness. She was sleeping 20 hours a day now, worn out by the constant battle to hold onto her rapidly disappearing humanity and the heavy combination of drugs.

With difficulty, Seven straightened, lingering a moment to gently brush her fingertips over the captain’s mouth, feeling the regular warm breath flow over them. She composed herself with an effort and turned away. The captain was being held in an isolated part of sickbay, bio-insular force fields surrounding her bed, and the Borg stepped through one, her cranial implant synchronized with the energy field to allow her passage without problems. The Doctor and Sek were waiting for her. Not for the first time, Seven was profoundly grateful the medical staff were holograms. They never became tired, they never ceased their research, never paused in their dedication to finding a way to stop this creeping horror.

Never had Seven hated her Borgness as much as she did this moment. She had cause to profoundly regret her initial assimilation, had been furious with the Collective for what it had done to her, but never had she hated the microscopic machines functioning within her cells as she did now. She had always considered them tools, nothing more. Now they had a personality, an insidious, malicious intent, and she despised them with everything she was. The knowledge that she was responsible for this, that she had been the one to assimilate Janeway so many months ago, was like a dagger stabbing through her with every breath she took.

“Can we do anything for you?” Sek asked gently, the slender woman’s blue eyes compassionate as she put her hand on Seven’s forearm.

“No,” Seven said shortly, her tone clipped as it always was now. Only with the captain did she allow her humanity to come through. “Continue to do what you must for Kathryn’s comfort.”

The Doctor was less easy to put off.

“When did you last sleep?”

“I do not require sleep.”

“Yes, you do,” he countered with unrelenting firmness. “You won’t do the captain or yourself any good if you collapse.” He paused, his dark eyes studying her. “If I have to, Seven, I’ll sedate you.”

She stared at him. “You would not dare.”

“Yes, I would.” For a long moment, they regarded each other, neither giving way.

Finally, Seven’s eyes dropped. She could not remember ever losing such a battle of wills before with anyone, but Kathryn. Perhaps, she was too tired to function.

“Do not sedate me,” she said, her tone altering to one of a plea.

He hesitated, then nodded. “Go to your quarters and rest, for at least four hours. You need that much.”

Seven’s shoulders slumped. “Very well.”

She left sickbay, heading for the turbolift. She did not believe she would be able to sleep, but she knew that the doctor was correct when he said exhaustion would be detrimental to her efforts to help her partner. She needed her mind working at full capacity to find a solution to this … something that was impossible since it was constantly on Kathryn and her condition. But she would allow herself a certain amount of rest, and perhaps that would allow her to tackle the problem from a fresh perspective.

She desperately needed a fresh perspective. This one felt hopeless.

As the turbolift doors opened, the ship suddenly shuddered, the power flickering. When it returned, it was only in emergency mode, as if something had abruptly drained the vessel of all its energy. She stood for a moment in frozen, sleep deprived-indecision, not knowing if she should return to sickbay and check on Kathryn, or head for the bridge where she knew the captain would expect her to go, to assist the ship in facing whatever threat this was. Chakotay’s voice over the comm channel shook her out of her lethargy.

“Senior staff to the bridge. Red alert. We’re under attack.”

Captain Kathryn Johnson … for this mission at least, though she still wore the insignia of a commodore … sat easily in Voyager’s command chair, lounging as she looked around the bridge of her vessel with a profound and soul-deep contentment. It had taken a lot to convince Starfleet to use the scout ship to conduct the first tests of the transwarp coil, and only the timing of the breakthrough coming right on the heels of the phaser rifle adaptations, along with Annika backing her up every step of the way, had turned the tide. That, and some long standing favors pulled in from Admiral Owen Paris and her long time association with Nechayev. Here she was and for the first time in a long time, she felt … alive.

“Ahead, one quarter impulse,” she ordered, absorbing the feel of her ship as it eased out of the dry dock where it had been undergoing a complete overhaul in the station above Earth’s northern hemisphere … just as it had been all those years ago when she had departed for Deep Space 9. A lifetime ago it seemed, when Voyager was newly built and her name had been Janeway, and she was only going to spend a week or so chasing about the Bajoran badlands to retrieve her security chief from the Maquis.

She glanced over at the dark skinned Vulcan operating the tactical console, just as he had for so many years in the Delta Quadrant. She had called Tuvok a month ago, and without asking any questions, he had left his posting on Vulcan as Starfleet liaison to the Science Academy to take up this role, just as if he had never left. It was a comfortable feeling to see him there, one that warmed her heart and left her almost aching from the sheer happiness of it.

Behind her and to the left, the short form of Ensign Nog worked the operations board. Johnson knew the young Ferengi had an artificial leg, a legacy of a wound received in a battle with the Jem’Hadar. This would be a change for him, a science mission rather than one that was purely military as he worked his way back to active duty in the regular fleet. She hoped he would appreciate the change of pace after such a traumatic time.

To the front of the bridge, the stiff-backed Ensign Ro Laren manned the helm, her slender hands moving lightly over the controls as she obeyed the captain’s orders. Fresh out of a Federation penal colony, the Starfleet officer-turned-Maquis-turned Starfleet reclamation project kept her eyes front and center. What was this? Johnson wondered idly. The Bajoran woman’s third chance at redemption? Her fourth?

Johnson didn’t care. Frankly, it wouldn’t have seemed right not to have an ex-convict at the helm of Voyager. She swallowed the laugh that bubbled up inside her, and glanced over at her acting exec and science officer for this mission, Lt. Annika Hansen, who was frowning as she studied the readouts on her monitor. The young blonde had been forced to accept an honorary commission to be able to continue as science team leader, and despite a lot of grumbling and complaints that her parents would never speak to her again after this, she put on the uniform and stuck the two gold pips on her collar.

Two other scientists who, because they were not in charge of the mission could retain their civilian status, manned the engineering and science stations respectively, maintaining a constant monitor on the transwarp coil which resided side by side with the new warp engines which had been installed on Voyager.

“Engine room,” Johnson said calmly. “Prepare for warp.”

“Aye, Captain,” the thick Scottish brogue returned. “She’ll be purring for ye in no time.”

“Thank you, Mr. Scott,” Johnson said, repressing a smile. “Stand by.”

She did not have to look to know Hansen was regarding her with that same odd expression she had from the first moment the burly engineer had appeared on board Voyager. Explaining to her that all the current Starfleet chief engineers were completely tied up with their own postings, which left only the services of Captain Montgomery Scott who had come out of retirement, did not ease the young woman’s discombobulation, at all. Hansen was extremely uncomfortably with knowing that her newest propulsion system was being babied along by a man who had not served in that capacity for over a hundred years. Johnson didn’t know how the man had found out about the classified project, or even how he had finagled his way onto it, but had decided to be glad about it.

After all, not everyone could say they had Captain James T. Kirk’s engineer on their ship, the very one who had managed to keep the original USS Enterprise intact … sometimes in the most unusual ways … for an entire five year mission. She considered it a good omen, and she knew that Scott and Tuvok, upon discovering their common bond of having both served with Hikaru Sulu in the past, had spent a lot of time together exchanging stories of that period as she listened avidly with shining eyes.

“Sickbay?” Johnson asked, a final check.

“We’re fine here, Captain,” Dr. Kate Pulaski said calmly. “Try not to shake us up too much, Kathryn.”

“I’ll do my best,” Johnson smiled. The older woman had been one of her tutors at the Academy, and to convince her to act as her CMO had been a real coup.

Such a rag tag band of adventurers we have, Johnson thought idly. Brought together by circumstance and random chance.

“Just like old times.”

“Excuse me?”

Annika regarded her strangely, and Johnson laughed briefly. “Just thinking out loud, Lieutenant,” she said, trying not to snicker at her lover’s wince at the use of her temporary rank. The captain intended to fix the honorary first office status as soon as possible, but in the meantime, she was going to derive as much amusement out of it as she could She turned her head forward. “Helm, ahead, warp factor one.”

“Aye, Captain,” Ensign Ro said. “Warp one.”

Johnson felt the acceleration thrum through her, and she smiled widely, not caring how very unprofessional that might be at the moment. This might not be for long and it might not be forever, but for now, she was exactly where she wanted to be.

One Universe Over

Janeway could feel the ship shake around her, her eyes flying open as she saw the lights above her dim, then return to half their previous strength. Her vessel was in trouble, and she raged at the paralysis that held her motionless on the bio-bed, at the monstrous element that infected her body. Never had she felt so helpless and she decided that even being a Borg drone was preferable to this. Then, she had been rendered mindless, her consciousness shoved deep in the recesses of her mind, crushed by the millions of thoughts united as one that was the Collective. Here, she was still Kathryn Janeway, still the captain even as her body betrayed her, leaving her impotent and weak, acutely aware of how defenseless she was.

It took her a few moments for her to understand what her last thoughts truly meant. She suddenly realized that she could remember everything … every memory she had lost months earlier when an explosion robbed her of three years of life experience. Somehow, the nanoprobes had repaired and restored the neural pathways which everyone, including herself, had believed permanently damaged. She wanted to weep deep, soul-shaking sobs, she wanted to swear every foul curse she knew, she wanted to scream with laughter from the sheer, horrible irony of it.

But she could not. Her vocal cords could no longer function, which meant she couldn’t even tell anyone that her memories had been completely restored. Her only consolation were the knowledge of the final words she had managed to say to Seven, and hope that just maybe they would be enough to get her spouse through the times that lay ahead.

As her body continued its relentless progression to complete immobility, Janeway’s mind sank into the cottony darkness of the sedative. She regretted bitterly the promise she had made to her partner and with a final, futile, silent ranting at her fate, she slipped into unconsciousness once more.

“Are you sure about this?” Annika asked softly. She was curled up in the middle of the bed, the blankets wrapped around her hips as she leaned against the headboard, looking at her lover.

Captain Johnson, dressed in a sapphire silk robe, sat on the lounger going over some reports. She glanced up, quirking her eyebrow. “Opening the rift?” She nodded. “Even if it’s only enough to send a message piggybacked to some kind of signal.”

“It could cost you your career,” Annika said bluntly.

Hansen had been off balance ever since this whole thing had began, trying to balance this new, authoritative Johnson with the cool, almost reserved woman she had fallen in love with. A tiny part of Annika was very afraid that this vital, assertive woman might not love a too-young-for-her-intellect scientist.

Johnson’s steady blue gray eyes regarded her. “It could,” she allowed quietly. “But if I’ve learned anything this past year, it’s that I’d rather lose my career fighting as a captain on a starship, than passively give it up as a commodore in a desk job.”

“This could be considered treasonous,” Hansen said, trying to find the words to convey her deep concern. “You might not just lose your career in Starfleet, you might lose all chance at pursuing a scientific career as a civilian.”

Johnson smiled briefly. “Then I’ll buy a ship, and become a pirate,” she said flippantly. “I do still have all those credits from my back pay in the Delta Quadrant.”

“Oh god,” Annika groaned, putting her face in her hands. “Why did I ever get involved with a starship captain?”

“It’s the uniform,” Johnson responded lightly. She nodded at the black and gray uniforms neatly folded, resting on the night stand for morning. “Women can’t resist it … at least, that’s what Chakotay always told me. Haven’t you noticed more attention from the crew now that you’re wearing one?”

Annika lifted her eyes and made a face at her. “Kathryn, the only thing the crew are probably noticing is that the ship’s first officer and the captain ‘consult’ a lot, late at night.” She frowned as a sudden thought struck her. “You and this Chakotay fellow never … ‘consulted’ late at night, did you?”

Johnson regarded her evenly, and Annika felt a little sick before the captain broke out in a bright smile and the scientist knew she had been had.

“Not at all,” Johnson said in an amused tone. “I’m not in the habit of fraternizing with my crew.”

Hansen blinked. “Then what happened with us?”

“You weren’t really part of my crew at the base,” Johnson said casually as she went back to her reports. “Not really. None of you were. Here, however, you are.”

Annika’s shoulders hunched a little. “Do you want me to leave?”

Startled, Johnson looked at her, then put down her padd and went over to the bed, slipping out of her robe and crawling between the sheets.

“I never want you to leave,” she said quietly, taking Annika into her arms and holding her tightly. “I adore you and I know I wouldn’t be able to do any of this without you.” She kissed her and then drew back a little, looking at the scientist closely. “Don’t tell me the esteemed Dr. Annika Hansen is feeling insecure?”

Hansen blushed. “Just a little. You’re … different, Kathryn. More than you were. I guess I’m wondering if you need me anymore.”

“Of course I do,” Johnson said in a sincere tone. “I’ll always need you, right by my side.” She paused. “Maybe it’s you who doesn’t want me now.”

Hansen snuggled close. “Don’t even think that.” She nuzzled the captain gently. “I’m just worried about you, Kathryn. I’m worried about where this is going to take you.”

“Hopefully to the ends of the quadrant and beyond,” Johnson murmured reassuringly.

“Then, I guess I’m going along,” Hansen whispered. “I might not like where the hell you’re going, but I’ll always find a way to get you there.”

“That’s all I can ask,” Johnson replied with a smile. She brought down the lights with a word, and Annika was pleased to feel the elegant, long fingered hands start to trace over her body.

“I do love you, Kathryn,” the young woman said softly, arching under the gentle fingertips. “With all my heart.”

“I love you too, my darling,” Johnson responded, nibbling at Hansen’s full, bottom lip. “You’ve helped me find my courage again. I’ll always love you for that.”

They made love slowly, sweetly, there in the big double bed beneath the window that looked out on the stars passing by, their light distorted by the warp drive. Never had Johnson been so passionate or loving as she was that night, their first on board Voyager, and Hansen found herself transported again and again to the heights of pleasure beneath the tender and intense caresses of the Starfleet captain.

Afterward, Hansen cradled her lover in her arms, watching her as she slept. Johnson’s face was remarkably relaxed, all the hint of stress and unhappiness removed from it, and the young woman was acutely aware it was the chair on the bridge that had granted that peace. Johnson wouldn’t give it up this time, not easily and that if she succeeded in winning back a regular command, Hansen would be left behind unless she took certain steps that could leave her permanently estranged from her parents. Even in that case, she wondered if she would ever become comfortable competing with Johnson’s other mistress, this vessel that carried them through the night toward their destiny.

A few weeks later, every preliminary test had been conducted with satisfactory results, the transwarp carrying them in days to where it had taken them years to traverse in the past. Voyager even made a stop by a planet in the Delta Quadrant, checking on a civilization created by a race of short-lived beings called the Ocampa. When Johnson returned to the ship, her face had been absolutely glowing, and to Hansen’s query, Johnson merely shook her head and told it was old business. That at least one of her decisions had turned out for the best.

The ship continued its shakedown cruise, the diverse group of individuals serving on it settling into a functional and competent crew. Of course, Hansen realized her title as first officer was truly honorary as she learned more and more of what an exec was apparently supposed to do. Tuvok was fulfilling most of that role, and seeing how easily he and the captain worked together on the every day routine of ship’s business made Annika wish that Starfleet had overlooked the ludicrous protocol this time. She and the rest of the crew were profoundly relieved when Johnson finally used her command authorization to alter the chain of command, demoting Hansen and putting Tuvok in as first officer. Annika continued to maintain her role as the science officer, and even though she lost a lot of her authority, she did not care in the least. She was merely comforted by the fact that her transwarp coil was working beyond their wildest dreams.

Then came the day Johnson called her into her ready room, and handed her a padd.

“Tomorrow.”

Hansen looked at it and grew a little pale. She had hoped Kathryn had given up the insane scheme. Apparently, she hadn’t.

“Where?”

“A little out-of-the-way system in the Heratha Sector.”

“In the Alpha Quadrant?” Hansen said. “Isn’t that a little close to Federation space.”

“A little,” Johnson remarked dryly. “If something untoward happens, however, I only want to be a small distance from the Federation. I have no intention of becoming stranded in the Delta Quadrant again. Certainly, we can do this anywhere. As long as it’s Voyager’s quantum signature we’re surrounding with this field, we’ll match up to where ever that universe’s Voyager is. “

“Okay,” Hansen said, defeated. “I’ll have the deflector array modified by tomorrow morning.”

Johnson offered her a big smile. “Thank you, darling,” she said, leaning over to kiss her gently, completely disregarding the protocols regarding their relationship while on duty that she herself had set up.

Disgruntled, Hansen accepted the kiss, then left the ready room, heading for engineering where she would attempt to make this thing work, hopefully without Scott’s ‘helpful’ suggestions. She wondered if Seven got along with the chief engineer of her Voyager? Or if he or she was as constantly infuriating as Scotty was.

The next day found the young scientist on the bridge, covering the science station. Tuvok took his place in the chair beside Johnson and the tactical post was now manned by a Starfleet lieutenant named Val Wallace. Hansen glanced over at the command chairs, and saw that Johnson was sitting upright at attention, completely unlike her normal slouch, aware that Kathryn was truly excited. Hansen shook her head briefly, and resumed her attention to her board, waiting for the captain’s orders before conducting the test … a situation that she never thought she would ever find herself in. She had never submitted to authority with any sort of grace, and to be doing it now was a constant source of bafflement to her.

“Engine room,” Johnson barked.

“Standin’ by, Capt’n.”

“Deflector array?”

“Ready,” Hansen responded, startled a little by the query even though she had been expecting it. Then added belatedly. “Ma’am.”

She risked sneaking a glance over her shoulder and saw the glint in Johnson’s eyes.

“It’s not crunch time yet, Lieutenant,” Johnson said in an oddly mild tone.

Hansen had no idea what the hell that meant, and she firmed her jaw, promising herself she wouldn’t try to follow these ridiculous verbal protocols anymore.

“Prepare to channel the transwarp stream through the deflector array on my mark.” Johnson paused, the hair raising on the back of Hansen’s neck, and then the captain, who had raised one elegant finger in the air, brought it down. “Mark.”

The transwarp drive activated, and Hansen funneled the power output through the systems where it was focused and refined into a beam of pure energy, carrying a distinctive resonance frequency. It coalesced in the space directly fore of the ship, and a swirling mass opened up, almost like a quantum singularity. Hansen was kept busy, divided between looking at her readouts, and staring open mouthed at the phenomena being created on the fore viewscreen.

“The rift is open,” Nog said excitedly from his post at ops. None of the crew had any idea why they were doing this … just as with half the experiments they had been running the past month or so … they only knew what they were supposed to do, and the fact they were actually succeeding was a source of remarkable satisfaction to them.

“Sensors?”

“Sensors are detecting a ship,” Wallace said. His voice faltered and he stared at the screen. “It’s … Voyager.”

Only Johnson and Hansen seemed unsurprised by this information … and of course, Tuvok, who either had been fully informed about the situation, or simply refused to let this unexpected announcement crack his Vulcan impassiveness.

“Hail them.”

“No response, Captain.” Nog squinted at his board. “There are other ships in the area, and indication of weapons fire. I think they’re under attack.”

Johnson came out of her chair. “Identify.”

“Unknown,” Tuvok said. “Their warp signatures are unfamiliar. Their fire power is tremendous, however, and they seem to be venting a lot of anti-matter waste. They are a great deal larger than Voyager, and there are two of them.”

Johnson’s jaw twitched. “Can we go through that rift?”

Hansen whirled, looking at the captain in astonishment. “Kat–Captain?”

Johnson returned her look, her features steady. “Can the rift be made big enough for us to enter?” she asked in a voice that did not allow for hesitation or questions.

“Yes,” Hansen said faintly. “I’ll have to increase the output by a factor of ten.”

“Do it,” Johnson snapped. “Ensign Ro, set a course. Bring weapons on line. Shields up. Red alert. All hands to battle stations.”

Hansen jumped as the lights abruptly dimmed, and a red light cast an eerie crimson glow over the bridge. She cursed under her breath as she keyed in the proper commands to widen the aperture enough so that a vessel the size of Voyager could fly through.

“Rift is holding,” she said, promising herself she’d never ever get involved with a Starfleet captain ever again. Once was too much. If this relationship didn’t work out, she was going to go into a convent, because she simply wouldn’t have anything left for another love affair.

“Cut transwarp,” Johnson snapped. “Ahead full impulse. Take us through, Laren.”

The Bajoran woman keyed in the proper commands, and the ship plunged through the hole that began to close again as soon as soon as the transwarp stream ended. They emerged into chaos, two heavy freighter type ships circling the sleek form of a Federation Intrepid-class vessel like two lumbering bears. They also had claws; their weapons raking the streamlined white hull with damaging effect. There was a brief pause as everything seemed to stop, the alien vessels undoubtedly noticing the abrupt appearance of the second vessel that looked very much like the first, and within seconds, they had turned a portion of their fire on the newcomer.

But unlike this universe’s Voyager, Johnson’s ship had been upgraded to the current Starfleet shield and weapon standards, developed after two years of fighting the Jem’Hadar. They shook off the alien fire like water from a duck’s back, the impacts causing only minor jolts to the bridge.

“Target their weapons array,” Johnson barked. Never had Hansen seen her lover so … animated. She realized Kathryn was actually enjoying this. “Fire at will.”

Wallace’s hands moved over the board, and twin phaser beams lanced out, cutting through the nearest vessel. Hansen was sickened slightly as she saw the debris and explosions that followed, knowing that there were probably lifeforms amongst that wreckage. The alien vessel heeled over, limping away slowly, and Johnson turned her attention to the second ship.

This universe’s Voyager was also firing back and caught between the two assaults, the alien ship chose survival over continuing the fight, breaking away and lumbering off. Hansen breathed a sigh of relief, and glanced over at Johnson, noting the attractive flush to her cheeks, the light gleaming in the bluish-grey eyes.

“Secure from stations,” the captain said smartly. “Hail the other Voyager.”

The fore viewscreen flickered, changing from the blackness of space and the view of the other Intrepid-class vessel to the dark, handsome face of a man dressed in an old style Starfleet uniform. A tattoo, clearly tribal in nature, ran over his left eye from the middle of his forehead to his temple, and he had a puzzled expression.

“Commander Chakotay,” Johnson said calmly. “It’s good to see you.”

Hansen felt a thrill of jealousy shoot through her as the unfamiliar man eyed Johnson skeptically.

“I’m not sure what to say here. Thank you for the assist against the Malon ships … Captain Janeway?”

“Captain Johnson,” she replied, smiling warmly. “May I speak with your captain?”

He frowned. “She’s unavailable. May I ask, what the hell is going on here?”

“Commodore Johnson?” Seven of Nine abruptly came into view, nudging the first officer aside. “What are you doing here?”

Hansen frowned, taking in the appearance of her counterpart. Seven was haggard, the lines under her eyes deeper and darker, her skin unnaturally pale, seeming to have aged beyond her young years. Annika didn’t remember the Borg looking anything like that from her previous visit.

“We’re here to warn you, Seven,” Johnson explained. “Your nanoprobes were affected by coming over to our universe. It could possibly lead to possibly deadly side effects, particularly for my counterpart.”

Seven looked abruptly distraught. “They already have. Kathryn is dying. Can you help her?”

Hansen took a breath. Were they too late after all?

Johnson raised her head, her chin firming as her eyes narrowed. “Annika and I are beaming over, Seven. We have a method for controlling the nanoprobes.” She favored the young Borg with a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry,” she added in a softer voice.

“We didn’t come all this way to fail now.”

Seven gazed in wonder at the small, compact form in the black and gray uniform who was bending over the stricken Voyager captain. She felt curiously detached, as if this was only a dream and the only reality she could hold on to was the promise that somehow, these other versions of herself and Kathryn had a cure for what was destroying her wife.

“Janeway, you’re one hell of a mess,” Captain Johnson said dryly, looking down into the ravaged face. “But with any luck, we’ll have you up and around in no time.”

“What’s going on here?” the Doctor asked for the tenth time. He and Sek were completely at a loss, watching as these people took over their sickbay, staring at the odd machinery Hansen had wheeled in on a small trolley. Two security guards, looking profoundly confused, took up a position at the doors, obviously wondering what the hell they were supposed to be securing.

“We’re going to reprogram the nanoprobes which are causing this,” Dr. Hansen told the EMH, smiling at him. “Just like we did in our own universe. It’s a piece of cake.”

Seven thought the young woman sounded unnaturally cheerful, and she wondered if it had anything to do with the profoundly horrified expression that had come over Hansen’s face when she first viewed Janeway’s misshapen form lying on the biobed. The scientist had immediately covered it up, and now it seemed like she was almost trying to convince herself more than the Doctor. The Borg drifted over to the bed and looked down at her partner, her heart breaking when she saw the eyes looking back at her, full of confusion and not a little fear.

Seven bent over. “I know you cannot speak, Kathryn,” she said softly so that only her partner could hear. “If you can understand me, will you blink once?”

The eyelids trembled, then closed. Seven felt a tiny bit of relief at that. “Can you blink twice? I will use that as a negative response.”

To her gratification, the eyelids closed and opened twice, and she knew that despite the appearance of her partner, Kathryn was still in there, her mind was still functioning. The Borg rested her fingertips on Janeway’s forehead, possibly the only part of the smaller woman not yet assimilated.

“Can you feel that?” Seven asked softly.

Again, a slow, single blink, and the Borg tried her best to come up with an encouraging expression. “Try to be patient, Kathryn.” She straightened and regarded the commodore … the captain, she corrected, even though the insignia adorning the gray collar of the shirt beneath the new style tunic was still that of the higher rank. But Johnson had been quite specific about how she wished to be addressed.

“What must we do?”

“You’re going to assimilate her,” Hansen interjected, attaching sensor probes to the Borg, the small, clear circles sticking to Seven’s temples and neck.

The Borg glanced at the other two in shock, and the young scientist grinned. Across the biobed, Johnson spread out her hands.

“It’s beyond me,” the commodore admitted. “This is purely Dr. Hansen’s show.”

“See, it’s simple, Seven,” Hansen explained. “Janeway’s nanoprobes are trying to restore the quantum signature of her own universe to her. She doesn’t have a cranial implant to inform them that she’s already there, so we’re going to have to use yours to reformat them.”

Seven blinked. “How?”

“I’m going to make an adjustment in your cortical node,” Annika said, bringing up a probe to adjust Seven’s eyepiece. When the Borg flinched away, Hansen held up her hands and waited, gentling her tone. “Seven, it’s going to create a small amount of assimilation nanoprobes so that they can be used on Janeway. They’ll reformat her current nanoprobes and reverse the changes they’ve made to her organic components.” She glanced down at the malformed lump on the bed, and shuddered slightly. “If you’d like, I’ll even code a series of commands to make Janeway’s nanoprobes go completely dormant afterward, and eventually they’ll be passed out of her system as her Human immunity takes over.”

Seven looked down into her partner’s face, seeing the expression in the eyes, the frustration.

“She will return to her normal functionality?” she asked the question that the captain could not, knowing that was what Janeway needed to know. “And appearance?”

“She should.” Annika looked over at Captain Johnson. “I mean, it worked on the rifle casings with the Borg cranial implant we salvaged from that cube, right? They all looked and worked pretty much like rifles afterward.”

The Doctor groaned.

“I do not believe we have much choice,” Seven said, keeping her voice from shaking with an effort. She bent over Janeway once more. “Do you wish to try? It sounds very … unfeasible.”

A single blink, firm and definite. Seven took a slow breath. “Do you wish them to deactivate the nanoprobes altogether? You will no longer have your healing ability.”

Another blink, more slowly this time but there was only one, and Seven tried not to be dismayed by this, straightening up and regarding her counterpart steadily.

“Proceed.”

Annika brought the microfilament up to probe Seven’s eyepiece once more, and the Borg forced herself not to cringe as a stream of data abruptly flowed into her implant, the scientist prodding the necessary nodules to enter several commands. Seven’s assimilation tubules suddenly erupted from the back of her wrist, and immediately she brought them to Janeway’s neck where they darted against the mottled skin, ejecting the load of the new assimilation nanoprobes. Seven understood now what they would do, how they would act as a virus, spreading through Janeway’s systems, and passing on their new format to the defective ones, changing their objectives.

“Seven, the uncontrolled growth is ceasing,” Sek said excitedly from where she was monitoring the captain’s condition. “The implants are no longer expanding into her remaining organic tissue. In fact, they’re starting to reverse completely and her organic cells are beginning to reproduce at an astounding rate.”

“Hook up a couple of IV’s,” the Doctor said abruptly. “I don’t know where those other nanoprobes got their energy, but her organic cells will need food.”

Johnson and Hansen were shoved aside as the Doctor and Sek were suddenly scrambling around the biobed, trying to find a place to insert the tubes for the IV unit. Seven remained where she was, looking down into the eyes of her partner as her assimilation tubules, their load delivered, returned to her wrist. She kept the fingertips of her right hand pressed against the Janeway’s forehead, and she felt an incredible joy flow through her as she saw the silver sheen slowly dissipate, leaving only the blue gray irises that were full of amazement and gratitude.

So easy, Seven thought distantly. The cure had been so obvious. How could I have overlooked it?

“You know, Seven,” Annika remarked from where she and Johnson were looking on. “I don’t have to change your cranial assimilation programming back. If you keep that sub-routine, you could do this for any Borg in the future … unassimilate them. You’ve just, in essence, became the anti-Borg.”

Startled, Seven stared at her, the concept hitting her with the force of a phaser beam. She could not even begin to grasp the implications of that. She looked back down at her partner who had obviously heard this and wished she could get the captain’s opinion … but that would have to wait until more of the implants had receded.

“I must confer with Kathryn on this,” Seven said faintly. “When she is again able to talk.”

Annika shrugged, apparently unaware of what a bomb she had dropped on her counterpart. “Don’t wait too long. I don’t think we can stay here for much longer.”

Johnson glanced at her and something undefinable passed between them. “My science officer is quite correct,” the older woman said finally. “We do need to return to our own universe soon.”

Seven was abruptly aware of Janeway’s eyelids fluttering rapidly, trying to get her attention and she raised an eyebrow, frowning as she tried to figure out what Janeway was trying to convey. It was difficult to determine but still, she and Kathryn had been together for quite some time, she thought. Surely she had a certain amount of insight into her partner’s thought processes.

“Will you stay at least until Kathryn can speak?” she asked the other captain. “I know she will want to thank you personally.”

Johnson frowned. “Perhaps a few days. No more.”

Hansen seemed to be about to say something, then pressed her lips together, looking a little disagreeable but not so much that a casual onlooker would notice.

Seven glanced down, gratified as the eyelids blinked once, and she knew she had guessed correctly what Janeway had wanted her to communicate, feeling an elation spread through her. It pleased her to know that she was this much in empathy with her partner and she hoped the warmth of her touch on Janeway’s forehead could translate into the embrace she really wanted to give her. As she stood there, communing silently with Janeway, Seven discovered that it was becoming difficult to concentrate, the many emotions swirling around within her making it hard to think. It was as if there was an expanding bubble of gaseous compound within her abdomen, expanding to fill her with happiness and relief, yet also bringing with it a sort of dizziness, a draining in her extremities. She trembled, aware of the Doctor looking up at her, a certain amount of alarm on his face.

“Sek,” he barked.

Abruptly, Seven toppled, vaguely aware of Sek leaping over to catch her before she hit the deck.The Emergency Medical Assistant bore her weight easily as darkness overcame the Borg.

Johnson took an involuntary step forward as Seven swayed, falling over. Fortunately the other woman, the slender, blonde haired female dressed in medical garb was closer, and she caught the Borg, bearing her weight easily as she carried her over to another biobed. Johnson was impressed, wondering who she was, knowing that she was probably someone Janeway had picked up on this journey in the Delta Quadrant. A journey that had been extended considerably as a result of certain decisions in this universe which had been different than Johnson’s choices. The commodore tilted her head, studying the stranger. In a odd sort of way, she reminded her of Kes, the Ocampa who had joined Voyager early in her journey, but this woman was Human and appeared much older.

“What’s wrong?” Hansen asked anxiously. The scientist was standing nearby, watching her counterpart with a definite expression of concern.

Sek looked back over her shoulder. “Seven has not been eating or sleeping with any sort of regularity the past two weeks,” she explained calmly, pulling a sheet over the supine blonde. “I suspect it has finally caught up to her.”

Annika seemed to accept this, looking a little relieved, and she glanced over at Johnson. “We need to talk,” she said in a much lower tone.

Johnson didn’t like the sound of that, but realized it was probably inevitable. She resisted the urge to sigh, and nodded briefly. “We’re returning to our vessel,” she told the Doctor. “We’ll maintain station keeping for another three days, taking scientific scans, but then we really must return to our own universe.”

“I understand.”

Johnson cast a quick glance over at the metallic and flesh lump on the biobed, trying to hide her revulsion. Though in a way, the mutations were so extreme that she could barely recognize her other self as the entity being transformed. She supposed she should be grateful for that … it might keep her from having nightmares for the next ten years. She touched her comm badge.

“Janeway to Voyager,” she said. “Two to beam up.”

“Understood,” Nog’s voice responded.

The last thing Johnson saw was the dark eyes centered on her, and she wondered what her counterpart was thinking. Of course, if the woman managed to recover in time to speak before they left, she’d probably find out. She wasn’t surprised to find that the need to find out what had happened to Janeway and Seven had left her, but she was surprised by how … distant she now felt toward her counterpart. She wondered how much of it had to do with the shock of the whole situation … that Janeway was not necessarily a person to her at the moment, but merely a problem to be solved, which was the only way she could handle seeing what unregulated nanoprobes could do to a human being.

Once on board her own vessel, she stepped off the dais, nodding formally at the transporter operator, and headed for the door, aware of Annika close on her heels. They did not speak as they strode through the corridor or during the entire trip in the turbolift to the bridge. Only when they were in the privacy of Johnson’s ready room, did her lover give voice to her feelings.

“Kathryn, are you insane?” Hansen said, flinging her arms up in the air, her face a study in incredulity. “We’ve accomplished what we came for. Now let’s get back before Starfleet notices we’re gone.”

Johnson settled into her chair behind the desk and tried not to smile. “I’m afraid it wouldn’t be that simple,” she said dryly, leaning back as she watched the other woman pace about in agitation. “The logs of this entire mission will be gone over with a fine-toothed comb. Starfleet will know exactly what I did.”

“What we did, you mean,” Annika responded, eyeing her narrowly.

Johnson shook her head. “What I did,” she insisted. “I’m the captain. I’m totally responsible.”

Hansen crossed her arms over her chest, looking at her moodily. The only thing that was missing was the young woman tapping her foot, the captain thought with idle amusement.

“No,” Johnson added before Hansen could offer such a suggestion, “we’re not going to tamper with the logs. That would be grounds for me to be summarily be court martialed.” She leaned forward, folding her hands on the desk in front of her. “Trust me, darling,” she said in a more soothing tone, “Starfleet might not like what I’ve done, but if I can get up on my hind legs and state that it was a command decision, then they’ll find a way to handle it. If I try to hide it, or make it seem like I knew I was doing something wrong, they’ll have to assume it was, and react accordingly.”

Hansen looked astounded. “So you just pretend that you thought you had every right to do this, and they’ll let it go?”

“Not let it go, necessarily,” Johnson explained patiently. “Find a way to balance it with all the rest of the accomplishments we’ve managed on this mission. Just as they did when I first returned from the Delta Quadrant. Don’t fool yourself, the accomplishments we’ve made on this shakedown mission have been considerable indeed.” She pursed her lips slightly. “In any event, no one else on this ship will be held responsible. It was purely my call and I made it. I’ll stand by it to the death.”

Hansen exhaled audibly in frustration and collapsed in the chair facing the desk. “I don’t think I’ll ever understand you ‘Fleet types.”

Johnson smiled faintly. “No, you probably won’t, but I’m glad you keep trying anyway.”

She held Hansen’s gaze, the blonde finally blushing and dropping her eyes.

“You are such an infuriating woman.”

Johnson’s smile widened. “But I’m cute.”

“Not at all,” Hansen responded tartly. “You’re too … devious to ever be considered cute.”

“Devious?” Johnson tasted the word carefully. “I like it.”

Hansen just snorted and Johnson leaned back in her chair. “In any event, I don’t think it will hurt to remain here a day or so,” the commodore added casually. “For one thing, it will give the science labs time to gather some fascinating data. Our Voyager never mapped this part of the Delta Quadrant. Plus, their Voyager is still undergoing repairs from the attack. It clearly falls under the category of encountering a vessel in distress … for which the regulations regarding our actions are very clear. We are required to assist.”

“Were you always this much of a space lawyer?”

Johnson’s gaze grew heavy lidded, a bit of regret coloring her tone. “I believe it is a skill I’ve acquired only in the past couple of years. Running a science facility with civilians, required me to know just how to balance Federation law and Starfleet regulations, not to mention the fine art of diplomacy and actual outright manipulation at times.” She shivered a bit. “Believe me, I find the command chair a great deal more straightforward … and comfortable.”

Hansen nodded somberly. “You’re not going to give it up this time, are you,” she said, a statement rather than a question. “Your command, I mean. You’re going to fight for it.”

“With everything I am.” Johnson paused. “I wouldn’t mind some support in that department.”

Hansen was obviously surprised, either at the words or that Johnson would be open enough with her to request the assistance, the commodore wasn’t sure. “I’ll help you all I can,” the young woman said quietly. “You can count on it, Kathryn.”

Johnson felt herself soften inside. Such a marshmallow you are, Katie, she scoffed to herself.

“Thank you,” she responded with sincere gratitude.

“But I’m not sure how well I’ll do on any ship you might get. I mean, it’s one thing to pretend to be a Starfleet officer on this mission where your crew is half civilian scientists, and the rest are either working their way back to active duty, are not trusted for regular duty, or are being hauled out of retirement. It’s quite another to try to fit into an elite Starfleet crew with years of experience. Certain decisions on my part will have to be made.”

Johnson nodded. “Point taken. Why not wait to cross that bridge when we come to it?”

“All right,” Hansen agreed in the sort of tone that let Johnson know she wasn’t going to be forgetting this anytime soon. The captain suppressed a sigh. She’d just have to worry about it when the time came.

“In the meantime…” Johnson said.

“In the meantime?” Hansen repeated questioningly.

“Shall we retire to my quarters for some further scientific consulting on this? After I debrief the crew, of course.”

“Is that an order?” Hansen said cagily.

Johnson stood up, coming around the desk, heading for the door. As she passed Hansen, she trailed her hand along the young woman’s cheek.

“Yes,” she said. “It was.”

Behind her, she heard another snort and she was smiling as she left her ready room. “All senior officers to the conference room,” she said, not pausing as she crossed the lower level to the door on the other side of the bridge.

She took a seat at the head of the conference table, waited until her senior staff had trailed in, and began to debrief them … on a need to know basis only. As far as they were concerned, this was just one more test, and that was pretty much what she wanted them to think. The only one who might have suspected different was Tuvok, and he would maintain his own counsel.

After that was finished, she and Hansen logged off duty and made their way to the captain’s quarters where Johnson dug out a bottle of champagne.

“What’s the occasion?” Hansen asked, having taken off her tunic, leaving her in the undershirt with the sleeves rolled up. She accepted the glass the commodore gave her, and regarded her companion curiously.

Johnson raised her glass. “To us. In a multitude of dimensions, we always seem to find a way to accomplish the impossible.”

Hansen grinned. “Well, if you consider the whole concept of the relationship itself being impossible, then everything else is a cakewalk.”

Johnson returned the grin. “Good point.” She tilted her head and tried again. “To achieving the impossible.”

“Hear, hear,” Hansen said and they sipped at the bubbly liquid.

Then Johnson took Annika’s hand and drew her over to the sofa. “Do you know, I didn’t even get a chance to ask how the dog is doing?” the commodore said as they settled onto the cushions.

“The dog?”

“I gave Seven a puppy just before they left our universe. I wonder if they still have it.”

“I’m sure they do. Besides, you may get the chance to speak with Janeway and Seven again when they’re not so concerned with other things … like survival.”

“Trivialities do go by the wayside in that event,” Johnson allowed with a smile. She looked over at the young woman who had slipped an arm around her shoulders, leaning back against her. “I’m going to keep contact between the two ships to a minimum. No need to clutter the issue.”

“I guess,” Hansen said, obviously not caring much. She leaned closer, nuzzling the commodore’s ear and Johnson realized the scientist’s mind wasn’t really on the conversation.

“Are you listening to me?”

“Oh yes,” Hansen murmured and Johnson shivered as she felt the lips trace down her neck. “Do you know how attractive you were today?” Hansen added in a purr. “You were so forceful, all that battle station excitement … I think it turned me on.”

“Oh, it did?” Johnson hesitated. “Honestly, it did me as well,” she admitted, blushing slightly. “It always does. I don’t know how many times I came back to these quarters after a particularly dangerous encounter and was just … at loose ends.”

Hansen pulled away, looking at her. “You were really alone during those years, weren’t you?” She placed her glass of champagne on the coffee table and drew her fingers down the other woman’s face and neck. “You’re not alone now.”

“No,” Johnson said, swallowing hard. “I don’t suppose I am.”

“It would be a real shame to waste all those … loose ends,” Hansen remarked, nuzzling the older woman’s ear once more. “Since I am so very good at … tying them up.”

“Oh, you are?” Johnson placed her glass on the coffee table and turned to her companion, wrapping her arms around her. “Show me.”

Hansen did, bending her head to kiss Johnson deeply, her tongue tracing along the commodore’s lips before gently slipping between them. Johnson felt a tingle go through her, the desire rising like a inexorable tide and she slid her hands down from Hansen’s shoulders to her chest, running down the slope of her chest to cover the full breasts through the slate gray sweater.

Hansen muttered something inaudible and pressed closer into the caresses, using her own hands to tug at Johnson’s tunic. “Let’s go into the bedroom.”

Johnson thought that was a wonderful idea, and immediately rose from the couch, reaching down to take the blonde’s hands in her own, using them to lead her companion into the bedroom. They finished undressing each other with languid caresses, kissing deeply and passionately by the bed, their uniforms tossed negligently onto the lounger. Over Hansen’s shoulder, Johnson could see the other Voyager through the hull window, hanging like a jewel against the backdrop of space, and she caught her breath at the sheer loveliness of the vision.

“How exquisite,” she murmured.

“Thank you,” Hansen said and blushed, abruptly self conscious in her nakedness.

Johnson decided it would not be a wise idea to try to explain what she really meant. Instead, she just kissed the young woman again and together, they sank to the bed where she focused her full concentration on her partner, forgetting her starship for the moment. She knew it was something that she would have to maintain a constant vigilance against. Hansen truly deserved better, and while Johnson had not always been able to provide a significant part of herself to her previous lovers, she was determined to accomplish it now.

For as long as she could.

Kathryn’s eyes flew open, and she stared up at the ceiling of sickbay. The lights were lowered, indicating night watch, and though her sense of time had been severely tested the past few weeks, she guessed that it was about 0300 hours in the morning. She swallowed, pleased that she now had saliva, and tried to assess how she was feeling. The terrible immobility was gone from most of her body, and she thought that she could even wiggle her toes. But there was still an uncomfortable weight on her abdomen, and it seemed that her right side and arm continued to be numb.

Steeling herself, she looked down toward her middle, startled to see Seven in a raised chair by the side of the bed, leaning over onto the captain, her head resting heavily on Janeway’s stomach, fast asleep. Janeway’s right arm was trapped beneath the Borg’s chest and carefully, the captain tried to pull it out, gratified to feel the pins and needles of restored circulation lance up and down the limb that she held up, gazing in wonder at her reformed hand, wholly human, not the metal claw it had been before. She flexed it, moving each individual finger, feeling a sensation that was beyond relief, knowing only that somehow, she had been completely restored.

She glanced down at Seven again, seeing the weariness and stress in the young woman’s face, the tightness around the eyepiece that framed her left eye. The captain gently placed her hand against the cheek, cupping it in the palm, and felt a wave of tenderness flow through her as the warmth of the smooth skin penetrated to her bones.

Seven did not stir, obviously exhausted, and Janeway spend several moments simply staring at her partner, loving her with all her heart and wanting nothing more than to gather her up in her arms and hold her forever. Instead, however, she tried to make do with the soft touch on Seven’s face as she watched her sleep.

She became aware of someone moving closer and she glanced over, identifying the Doctor who drifted to the side of the bed opposite to where Seven was perched.

“She never gave up,” he said quietly. “Not once.”

“No,” Janeway replied softly. “She wouldn’t let me give up, either.” She made a face of rueful adoration, running her fingers gently down the line of jaw. “My poor darling,” she added fondly. “I put her through so much.”

The Doctor quirked an eyebrow briefly. “Honestly, Captain, I think it’s a pretty even exchange. She provides her fair share of aggravation to you.”

Janeway smiled. “I guess that’s why we’re so well suited. We’re the only ones strong enough to put up with each other.”

“Something like that.” He moved closer, using his medical sensor to scan the captain as he studied the screen of his tricorder. “You seem to be coming along quite nicely. The last of the implants have completely dissolved, and the number of nanoprobes are decreasing every hour.”

“It’s happening so quickly.”

“Well, don’t forget how fast assimilation initially takes place. The Borg are nothing, if not efficient.”

Self-consciously, Janeway reached up with her other hand and touched her head, feeling the scalp which bristled with a fine layer of new growth. “What about my hair?”

He looked a trifle annoyed. “Captain, I appreciate that you want to return to your normal appearance as quickly as possible, but I am resisting the idea of tampering with your body any more than is absolutely necessary at the moment. It’s undergone a massive transformation, and I consider using medical techniques to stimulate follicle growth as … unwise at this point.”

“So I’m bald,” she said, cutting to the chase.

“For the time being,” the balding hologram sighed. “It will have to grow in naturally.” He raised an eyebrow sardonically. “At least, you have that option. One might be a little more grateful for the big miracles.”

“I am, Doctor,” she said meekly. “Thank you.” She must be on the road to recovery, she decided. His abrasive nature generally increased in direct proportion to the health of his patients.

His dark eyes softened. “Be patient, Captain. In the meantime, might I suggest a new dress code, one that includes hats as part of the uniform?”

So it was when she walked onto the bridge a day or so later, a jaunty red beret perched on her head. She looked around to find every single member of the bridge crew sporting head gear of some fashion in quiet support. Chakotay boasted a black, flared Stetson, while Tom Paris had a wrinkled, dusty fedora pulled low over his baby blue eyes. Harry Kim wore a baseball cap twisted so that the rim was at the back, and even Tuvok wore a colorful bandanna, very similar to the one he had used to disguise himself during the mission to the past on Earth to stop a 20th century entrepreneur from exploiting 29th century technology.

Janeway paused, looking back over her shoulder at her partner who had accompanied her on this brief visit to the command center after leaving sickbay, only to see that Seven had somehow acquired a beret herself, blue to match her outfit. Janeway blinked rapidly against the tears welling in her eyes, and she smiled tremulously at all her senior staff.

“As you were,” she ordered huskily, and they grinned back at her with unrepentant affection, though the Vulcan’s expression was considerably more subdued. In his dark eyes, however, she could read his gratitude at seeing her on her feet once more. “Status?”

“Maintaining station keeping off the other Voyager’s port bow,” Chakotay responded.

Janeway nodded. “Commodore Johnson and Dr. Hansen will be dining in my quarters this evening. Afterward, as soon as they beam off and their vessel has cleared our universe, resume course for the Alpha Quadrant.”

“Understood,” Chakotay said, reaching up to tip his hat in salute. “Ma’am.”

She made a brief face at him, and smiled. “You have the bridge, Commander.”

She was silent on the short descent to the deck containing her quarters, very aware of her partner hovering close by though Seven did not actually touch her. Janeway supposed it was something she would just have to get used to over the next few days. After all, this had frightened her partner tremendously, and she remembered clearly, when Seven had been thought dead … though she had actually transported to the Alpha Quadrant … Janeway had made a point of visiting astrometrics approximately fifty-three times a duty shift for the entire week following the Borg’s return.

She was fully cognizant of the fact that little tidbit hadn’t been in the logs, personal or mission, and she realized suddenly she hadn’t told anyone that her memories had returned in full. She wasn’t sure exactly why she was keeping it to herself. She supposed that she wanted to make sure they would remain permanently, rather than turn out to be some temporary side effect of the experience she had undergone. She was afraid they would vanish once she was fully recovered.

When the turbolift doors opened, she was not shy about reaching over to rest her hand on Seven’s forearm, leaning a little on her spouse as they walked down the corridor toward their cabin. Janeway was still fairly fragile, and it occurred to her that she had gotten used to feeling at the top of her game all the time. She had to remember that even when she regained her full health, she still wouldn’t be as strong as she had been in the months leading up to the final collapse.

Ruefully, she wondered how long she could hold off the people wanting to play Velocity with her. She had rather enjoyed her undefeated streak, and understood that it was unlikely that she would be able to maintain it now. She glanced over at her partner as they entered their quarters. Perhaps she would just retire from the game altogether, Janeway decided, and take up something else. Like Parcheesi or billiards. Heck, it had been awhile since she had gotten out the old pool cue and scratched the table at Sandrines. She knew she could whip everyone’s ass in that, and she wondered how long it would take to teach Seven how to play.

The Borg made the captain comfortable in the chair in the living area and went over to her kitchenette, tossing the beret onto a stand in the corner. Janeway quirked an eyebrow as she saw the slender piece of furniture, obviously newly replicated, and counted three more very stylish hats hanging from the wooden hooks. From his doggy bed, Jake came over tentatively, as if he knew she was still weak and gently lay his head on her knee. She patted him, stroking the silky red hair with true enjoyment.

“Hey, boy,” she crooned as she scratched behind his ears, his tail wagging so hard, his hind quarters swayed. She grinned faintly, and looked up at her spouse who was pulling out her utensils. “So, what are we serving this evening?”

Seven looked up and smiled brightly. Janeway’s heart caught at the absolute joy radiating from it.

“I believe I shall go with the chicken and vegetable stirfry,” Seven told her, already laying out the ingredients from beneath the counter where she must have replicated them earlier. “It is quickly made and seems to be accepted by a wide variety of tastes.”

Janeway nodded and glanced over at a wine bottle chilling in the ice bucket on the coffee table, realizing the Borg had everything well in hand. Such a perfect hostess Seven had turned into, she noted with wry amusement. A domestic goddess of formidable proportions, which was fortunate because Janeway tended to be hopeless at such things.

Her comm badge chirped and she touched it. “Janeway here.”

“Captain Johnson and Dr. Hansen have requested permission to beam over,” Chakotay told her.

“Give them the tour, Commander. Then, escort them here.”

“Will do,” he said and signed off.

“Seven, quickly. Time got away from me.”

The Borg came around the counter and helped the captain to her feet, supporting her as she went into the ensuite where the captain showered quickly and dressed in a midnight blue shirt and cream-colored skirt. Janeway wrapped a silk blue and silver scarf around her head like a turban, and then leaned on her partner as they returned to the living area just as the door chime sounded.

“As always, darling,” Janeway murmured. “Your timing is impeccable.”

“And yours is improving,” Seven responded lightly, brushing her lips gently over Janeway’s cheek before going to the door to admit their guests.

Dr. Hansen looked around the captain’s cabin surreptitiously. She was consumed with curiosity about how a Borg and a Starfleet captain would cohabitant, and she was surprised to find it quite … homey. There was even a little kitchenette, and the delicious aroma of their meal that filled the air was underlain with a more subtle, sweetish chocolate odor. She wondered if Seven had the same appreciation for sweets that she did.

The place was also spotless … surprising since they had a long haired Irish Setter living with them named Jake. Johnson was clearly pleased to see it, exclaiming over how well trained it was … Seven’s doing according to Janeway … and how big it had gotten … Janeway’s habit of feeding it unnecessary snacks, according to Seven. Annika, on the other hand, was horrified to find out it had yet to reach its mature growth, and she eyed Johnson warily as she patted and fawned over the animal. She certainly hoped that she wasn’t expected to accept such a big, hairy animal into her life anytime soon.

In any event, the quarters gave no indication of pet hair or odor, not even by the line of hedge like plants cordoning off a corner by the bedroom that clearly belonged to the dog. Hansen also noticed that there were no padds or coffee mugs left lying around the work stations, a distinct difference from her own cabin which Johnson continually threatened to declare a disaster zone. As they sat at the dinner table, the scientist’s eyes kept trailing to the odd collection of knickknacks cluttering the shelves, strange ornaments and artwork, obviously gathered from a variety of planets and cultures. Some of them actually made her head ache to look at them for very long, and she wondered who had picked them out. Then her eye was taken by a holo-image sitting on the work station … Janeway and Seven standing together, the captain in dress whites, the Borg in what appeared to be … a wedding dress?

“Are you two married?”

Seven looked oddly at her. “Yes, for three months,” she responded, as if it should have been obvious. Hansen saw Janeway shoot her spouse a soft look, all shy and pleased, and the young scientist felt a pang in her heart, wondering if she and Johnson would ever achieve that level of closeness.

She took another bite of her rice and vegetables, amazed at the flavor of it. She had thought the chef in Frisco’s had been an artist, but this was incredible. She glanced over at Seven, wondering why a Borg would decide to acquire a skill that had, for the most part, become obsolete.

“This is wonderful,” Johnson said, raising an eyebrow at the captain. “It’s just like Mother used to make. How did you program the replicator to reproduce all the subtleties of the flavor?”

Janeway smiled briefly at her and nodded at Seven. “Don’t look at me. Seven’s developed into quite the Traditionalist, and learned all these recipes from the source, herself.” At Johnson’s confounded look, she held up a hand. “It’s a long story.”

One that Hansen knew, having heard the whole tale from Seven during the last universe-switching encounter, and she made a mental note to tell Johnson about it later.

Johnson regarded Seven with surprise, then glanced at Hansen with a speculative look in her eyes. The scientist sat up abruptly, frowning.

“Oh, no,” Hansen responded warningly. “I’m not going to learn to cook from scratch if that’s what you have in mind.”

Obviously, that had been exactly what the commodore had in mind, and her disappointed expression made the other three smile, even Seven who had apparently detected the subtle nuances of the exchange. Johnson smiled ruefully, and glanced at Janeway.

“Wanna trade?”

Startled, Janeway laughed out loud, a husky, full-bodied laugh. “Sorry,” she said, shooting an affectionate look at Seven. “I’ve almost finished developing my Annika into exactly what I want her to be.”

Seven and Hansen exchanged significant looks at this bit of hyperbole.

“Does yours drink far too much coffee?” Seven asked in a long suffering tone.

“Oh yes,” Hansen said in a similar, much put-upon voice. “Also, she never calls to say she’ll be late, or worse, when she’s not coming by for dinner at all.”

Seven leaned over. “I have dissuaded mine of that particular flaw. You throw dishes at her until she apologizes.”

Hansen laughed, and glanced at Johnson who was looking at the captain in commiseration.

“Only the once,” Janeway protested.

“It was my birthday,” Seven noted gravely, causing her spouse to blush.

Johnson also sank in her chair, and Hansen looked back at Seven. “She missed mine completely. She didn’t realize for a month and a half.”

Seven winced in sympathy and together, they regarded the two older women accusingly. Johnson and Janeway exchanged glances.

“I believe we’ve lost this one,” Janeway noted.

“I do think a strategic retreat is in order,” Johnson agreed.

“However, I’ve found that roses sometimes turn the tide in my favor,” Janeway offered helpfully.

“Hmm, I find ice cream works as well. Cherry Vanilla.”

“No, I don’t think so,” Janeway objected, wincing at the thought. “Seven became violently ill the last time she tried ice cream. Of course, she had about half a pint, in addition to a huge piece of chocolate cake, five hot dogs loaded with chilli, and a stack of potato chips.”

“I did not understand the concept of ‘junk’ food,” Seven explained to her counterpart. She brightened. “It was Naomi’s birthday, and she wished for me to experience the full effect.”

Janeway sighed. “That you did … all over the ensuite floor.”

Seven blushed. “I did not quite make it to the waste disposal unit. Vomiting is a human condition of which I am not particularly fond.”

“None of us are, darling,” Janeway said with a gentle smile, reaching over to pat her partner’s hand lovingly.

Hansen thought this was so unbearable cute, she wondered if she could possibly survive it. It occurred to her that the four were sharing a bond of unusual intimacy, talking easily as if they had known each other for years and years. She supposed that might be the case whenever counterparts from any universe got together … not that it would happen often enough to make a concrete analysis of it, however.

“Who’s Naomi?” she asked, trying to get off the subject of regurgitation.

“The ship’s youngest crewmember,” Janeway explained. “She’s the only child born on Voyager in the Delta Quadrant to date.”

“She is my friend,” Seven added, launching into an explanation about the girl who had made such an impact on her life, and their many adventures. Hansen listened in fascination, amazed at how animated her normally cool and restrained counterpart had become.

“She’s sounds like a good kid,” Hansen said finally when Seven finished. She glanced over at Johnson. “Not that I would ever want any, of course,” she added with a laugh.

Immediately, she knew she had said something wrong, a shadow passing over both Janeway and Seven’s faces. Johnson picked up on it as well, and promptly changed the subject, directing the conversation to the trials she had faced trying to get the various people together to crew this experimental transwarp mission of Voyager. She soon had the couple smiling again with her anecdote of her first meeting with Montgomery Scott, and how the pair of them, along with Dr. Pulaski, had spent a rather interesting evening the night before their departure in a bar at Marsport Station.

Hansen joined in with her story of how she had to help the commodore recover in time to take command the next day, even as she mentally filed away the expressions her earlier words had provoked. The conversation eventually moved from the table and into the living area, where Seven served sweets and coffee. Coffee that Johnson not only offered to trade Hansen for again, but also seemed willing to toss in all her extra credits and the new sauna she had installed in her quarters back on Mars. To which Janeway refused outright, and Hansen had the feeling that she was going to have to learn to make this particular blend. The four talked and laughed like old friends, and Hansen was struck again by how very gently Seven treated the captain, and in turn, how Janeway treated her spouse with the utmost respect and tenderness. The pair were obviously more comfortable with each other than during the last universe transversing, and the scientist hoped that one day soon, she and Johnson would achieve that same level of profound love and commitment.

Hansen was the first to notice that Janeway was starting to lag, and she nudged Johnson quietly. They made their excuses and said their good-byes, embracing the other two tightly, knowing how unlikely it was they would ever see each other again. As Johnson and Hansen stepped into the turbolift, the scientist surprised her companion by speaking up and giving an alternate destination than the transporter room they had arrived in.

“What are you doing?” Johnson asked, staring at her.

“I need to find something out,” Hansen told her in a thoughtful tone. “It shouldn’t take too long.”

Epilogue

The next evening, with the other Voyager having departed for their own universe and their own Voyager resuming its course to the Alpha Quadrant, Seven of Nine sat on the couch with the captain cradled lovingly in her arms. She rested her chin on the soft auburn fuzz covering the warm scalp, and felt the ragged parts of her begin to slowly knit together inside.

“Do you know,” she asked softly, “how very, very precious you are to me?”

“As precious as you are to me,” Janeway responded quietly, snuggled up against Seven, her face pressed against the slope of the Borg’s chest, her hand resting on her shoulder. The captain’s legs were tucked up under her and most of her weight was leaning against the young woman, which Seven gratefully and joyfully accepted.

“This was … a very difficult experience,” the Borg admitted. “Despite the hope the transwarp coil schematics may give us for the future. It was good of them to leave them behind.”

“I know, Annika, but we made it through. We always manage to find a way … even if sometimes it’s our other selves that end up fixing it. Who knows, maybe we’ll even be able to use those schematics someday, though for now, it looks like it would be easier to steal another coil from the Borg rather than attempt to build one ourselves.”

Seven brushed her lips against the top of Janeway’s head and hugged her lightly, not wanting to think about ship’s business, or transwarp coil schematics, or anything other than the woman in her arms. “I love you, my Kathryn. I believe I understand now what you have been trying to teach me about the need to fight for life. Even if it is not for yourself, there are other people whose lives would be lessened if one was simply … to give up.”

Janeway shifted, leaning back so she could look up into her partner’s face. “Funny, I was thinking how much I now understand your view that life could sometimes be so horrific, it would be impossible to want to survive it, let alone live it.” She smiled wistfully. “I guess, if we both keep learning, eventually we’ll meet in the middle somewhere.”

“That would be acceptable,” Seven agreed with a hint of humor and bent her head, kissing her partner with careful tenderness.

When they parted finally, Janeway sighed and snuggled back into Seven’s arms. “I love you, too, my darling,” the captain murmured, her face pressed against the hollow of the Borg’s throat. “In case I haven’t said it in a while.”

Seven smiled, knowing that Janeway was being facetious. The captain told her how she felt more now, than at any other time in their relationship, and it granted the young woman a sense of security and love that served as a solid foundation for her continued existence. The Borg glanced at the large, antique grandfather clock that had just altered its readout, noting the lateness of the hour.

“I believe it is time for bed.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Janeway agreed.

However, neither of them moved from this warm corner of the couch, holding on to each other as if afraid to let go. It was finally the chime at the door that forced them to get up, Seven untangling from her partner to go answer it.

“Who’d be stopping by at this hour?” Janeway asked with a mix of bafflement and annoyance, leaning back against the cushions.

Seven keyed the door to open, and blinked as she saw the Doctor standing there. He had an odd expression on his face, and she knew how unusual it was for him to visit. The only previous times he had been in their quarters, it had been of a medical nature, and he had beamed his matrix directly into the cabin itself. She noted that he was holding a metal cylinder, not too large but with the unmistakable markings of cryogenic suspension on the labeling.

“Doctor?” she said, eyeing him curiously.

“Sorry to stop by so late,” he said, brushing past her to enter the quarters, nodding formally at Janeway who quirked an eyebrow at him. Seven returned to the sofa beside the captain as he took a seat in the chair, and set the container on the coffee table.

“I was going to save this for your next checkup, but Sek convinced me that you should know about it as soon as possible. Now that the other Voyager has returned to its universe, I’m granted leave to pass this information along.”

Janeway held up a hand. “A moment, Doctor,” she instructed. “Start from the beginning.”

He regarded them gravely. “Dr. Hansen came to me last night and asked me some questions that normally I would not have responded to. Except for the fact that she is essentially Seven herself.”

“What sort of questions?” Seven asked, puzzled.

“About your medical history.” The Doctor hesitated. “I thought I saw where she was going so I answered them. Otherwise, I assure you, I would not. Patient confidentiality is very important to me … as you both know.”

Janeway raised her head suddenly, and Seven got the impression that her partner had just formed a tentative conclusion, one that caused the blood to drain from her face, and her eyes to shade to gray. Concerned, she reached over and took her hand, holding onto it tightly.

“Go on,” Seven instructed evenly, requiring more data, and hoping that it would give her enough to make her own conclusion.

“I told her that you were incapable of reproducing genetically, that the Borg had removed all trace of your reproductive organs. She wanted to know if you wished to have children, and I don’t believe I was being presumptuous in saying that it was exceptionally important to you.” A tiny smile quirked the corner of his mouth. “We agreed that this was an unfortunate state of affairs so with her cooperation, I harvested several eggs from her ovaries. They will have to be matured, of course, but they are Annika Hansen, right down to the smallest genetic strand.” He patted the container, indicating exactly where those eggs were at the moment.

Seven didn’t quite understand what that meant at first. Then it began to sink in, and she looked over at Janeway to verify what she was thinking. Janeway’s face was soft and shy, a pleased expression as she looked back at Seven, smiling warmly.

“When we choose to have children,” the captain confirmed, “genetically, they can be as much a part of you as they will be of me … if that’s what you want.”

Seven did not know what she was feeling as the Doctor finally made his exit, bearing the precious container back to sickbay where it would be stored until needed. Until, Seven realized, she and Kathryn decided to create offspring. She found it hard to breathe suddenly, her heart filling her chest that seemed far too small to contain it.

“How do I thank my counterpart for this?” she asked softly as Janeway resumed her seat beside her. She was leaning forward, staring blankly at the opposite work space. “It is a gift of such magnitude.”

“You can’t really,” Janeway said with a small smile as she wrapped her arm around Seven’s waist. “You just accept it as graciously as you can, and hold that person in your heart forever. You also hope that somehow, they understand exactly what it was that they have given you, and take the same joy from it.”

Seven searched for the words that seemed so lacking in the ability to convey the emotion she was experiencing. Finally she just shook her head.

“I hope they visit again, someday.”

Janeway leaned over and kissed her.

“So do I, my love,” she whispered. “So do I.”

One Universe Over

The Golden Gate bridge of San Francisco seemed to glow in the bright light of the Californian sunshine, the water of the bay sparkling like a thousand jewels. Johnson stared out at the scene through the huge plexiglass windows, standing at easy attention in the office of Admiral Nechayev. The insignia on her collar was still that of a commodore, but Johnson had four gold pips tucked away safely in the inner pocket of her tunic. She wanted to be wearing them when she left here, though she knew that might prove to be a faint hope at best. She had yet to judge the mood of the other woman who suddenly entered, moving briskly.

“Commodore,” Necheyev greeted gravely, taking a seat behind the huge desk which dwarfed the tiny frame of the blonde officer. “Difficult mission?”

Kathryn turned, raising an eyebrow. “Admiral,” she returned the greeting politely. “Not at all.”

The small woman’s eyes narrowed. “If I remember correctly, when you came to me with that wild scheme to open a rift into the other universe, I told you no. Now I find that you’ve gone off and done it anyway.”

Kathryn took a breath, straightening her spine. “Admiral, your refusal was based on lack of resources to create such a rift. That was solved by my science officer. Your other concern regarding the lack of tangible benefit from such an experiment was resolved by the astrometric charts and the data we returned with.”

Necheyev glared at her, then snorted, leaning back in her chair. “All right, Johnson, I understand what you’re saying. I’m not stupid, but that leaves us with a bit of a problem. You’re not willingly going to return to being the administrator of the Olympia facility, are you?”

A muscle in Kathryn’s jaw twitched. “No,” she said quietly, but firmly. “I’m going to hang onto my ship with everything I’ve got.”

Necheyev studied her keenly for long moments, the silence stretching on to the point of breaking before she finally spoke. “It’s about time.”

Startled, Kathryn blinked, not understanding. “Admiral?”

The small woman’s head came up. “The worst thing you ever did was marry that Johnson fellow, and accept that promotion. I told you then it was a mistake, and it didn’t take long to discover how big.”

Kathryn flushed. “I remember,” she said uncomfortably. She took a breath. “Then why didn’t you give me back a ship when I requested it.”

Necheyev smiled faintly. “It wasn’t our place. We don’t need administrators out there, Johnson, we need leaders, especially in a Federation that’s still reeling from the Dominion war. We weren’t going to send out someone who didn’t even know what they wanted to be. We had to be sure you were ready to take command, not just be given it.”

Kathryn felt a little faint. “And now you are?”

“Let’s just say that someone who fights for something is a lot more useful to us than someone who just politely asks for it with nothing more than the properly filled out paperwork,” Necheyev noted slowly. Then her jaw firmed, and her eyes glinted.

“Johnson, your fate is mine to decide. Consider yourself demoted one rank as of this moment.” She held a hand up as Kathryn’s eyes brightened perceptibly. “Don’t start thinking of this as some sort of reward. You still went against my orders, and while you may have the only transwarp vessel at the moment, it’s still some half-baked experimental mess of merged technologies. Unless you can prove that the thing works over a certain period of time under real mission conditions, then it and your career are probably going to be dumped down the nearest black hole. Don’t expect any help from Starfleet. Every screw-up we have, every officer who ever made a wrong decision, every clumsy incompetent working on his last chance, is gonna end up in your crew. Do we understand each other, Captain Johnson?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Kathryn said smartly. “We do.”

“Your orders for your next mission will be cut by the time you return to your ship,” Nechayev said. “You also might want to inform that scientist of yours that her request for a field commission has been approved. Beginning immediately, Dr. Annika Hansen has been accorded the rank of full lieutenant, and is assigned as Voyager’s senior science officer.”

Kathryn stared at her, profoundly shocked. Nechayev’s smile widened appreciatively. “Apparently, Johnson,” the Admiral added with dry amusement. “Your girlfriend decided she wants to be in Starfleet after all. Which is fortunate, because Command is a lot more comfortable with her being one of us if she’s tagging along to monitor that propulsion drive. Otherwise, we might have had to make you leave her behind. She’s made it a lot easier for everyone concerned.”

“Understood, Admiral,” Kathryn said faintly. She hadn’t even known the Nechayev was aware of her relationship with Annika. Or that Annika had been planning this.

Nechayev motioned with her head towards the door. “You’re dismissed, Captain Johnson.”

“Aye, ma’am,” Kathryn said obediently as she turned and headed for the door. She paused briefly as it hissed open to allow her passage, and looked back over her shoulder. “Uh, Admiral?”

“Yes, Johnson?”

Kathryn smiled faintly. “The name is Janeway. Captain Kathryn Janeway of USS Voyager.”

Nechayev shot her a wry look, and Kathryn laughed all the way to the transporter sector where she waited to be sent back to her ship, and to the woman she loved. She had no way of knowing what the future held but she believed that it would prove to be … quite interesting.

The End

Back to Season Two

On to Just between Dawn & Dusk

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Epilogue