This is the 18th in the Just Between Series.

This is the same sort of format with only the title reversed as JB Dusk & Dawn so the title credit goes to EC Marks one more time.

This story was posted the middle of April, 1999 when the show was moving into the final eps of season five.

Just Between Dawn & Dusk

G. L. Dartt

0400 Hours (Pre-Dawn)

Seven of Nine, late of the Borg Collective and now astrometrics officer for the starship Voyager, opened her eyes, remaining still as she took in her surroundings with keen senses. She was lying in her bed in the quarters that she shared with her partner, and a quick glance at the chronometer readout at the head of the bed revealed that she still had an hour and a half before the computer’s wake up call … another two hours before she had to actually get up.

She was stretched out on her back, her left arm up by her head, the right draped across her abdomen under the covers. She reached over to the other side of the bed, touching the warm body of her spouse who was sleeping peacefully. The Borg only had to lay her fingertips on the other woman’s hip for her to stir, though Captain Kathryn Janeway never really woke up as she rolled over to snuggle into the waiting embrace of Seven’s arms, sighing softly before slipping back into a deep slumber.

Seven smiled faintly, Janeway’s head tucked under her chin, the warm breath of the captain’s respiration brushing over the Borg’s neck and chest. Janeway’s motion had brought the musky redolence of the previous night’s lovemaking to Seven’s nostrils, and she inhaled deeply, the memory it inspired warming her through and through. Beneath her jaw, the Borg could feel the short strands of auburn hair that stuck up from the captain’s scalp, only a few centimeters long at this point, and she moved her chin gently back and forth, enjoying the texture of it against her skin.

A recent illness had resulted in the captain losing her hair ,and because of the nature of the virus … essentially Borg nanoprobes running amuck … Janeway’s body had undergone an amazing amount of physical stress. She still wasn’t as healed as she needed to be, and the Doctor refused to use artificial techniques on her for nothing more than cosmetic purposes. He stated firmly that the hair would just have to grow back naturally, much to the captain’s displeasure, though at this point, the captain no longer wore a hat on duty. Yet, Janeway still continued to fret about her appearance whenever she looked in the mirror, often making disparaging comments about it to her partner. Seven, on the other hand, actually preferred it, believing that the cropped hairstyle accentuated the captain’s exquisite cheekbones and brought out the classic lines and strength of her face, telling her partner this over and over. Plus the Borg truly loved running her hands over it, and even now, she pressed her lips against the top of Janeway’s head, letting the soft, downy strands play over her face and cheeks, delighting in the sensation.

Janeway merely replied that her partner was just being biased in her opinion, and refused to listen to Seven’s positive view of things. Of course, the Borg noted, Janeway had never been truly satisfied with her hair, regardless of its appearance. It was a character trait Seven found truly odd, because she believed the older woman’s hair to be perfection itself, the rich, auburn locks seeming to glow with highlights of fire … very suitable for the strong willed, passionate woman Kathryn embodied.

Seven’s hair, in contrast, was long and blonde, usually kept up in an austere bun, but generally let down by Janeway at the end of their duty shift. Seven found the length and appearance of it to be completely irrelevant, but the captain seemed to greatly enjoy running her hands through the fine length of it, and burying her face into its mass at night, so Seven kept it at a length that reached down almost past the bottom of her shoulder blades. She smiled again as she felt the captain nuzzle into it, still asleep yet seeming to take some form of comfort from the soft blonde mat falling over her face.

It took an effort for Seven to pull her mind away from the topic of hair, and she tried to concentrate on the welcome heat of Janeway’s body that was making her drowsy. She settled further into the embrace, cuddling against her partner in this very cozy spot in the center of their bed, the smaller woman’s body draped over her with comforting familiarity. From the outer room, Seven could hear the respiration of the couple’s Irish Setter who grunted softly in his sleep. Undoubtedly, he was ‘chasing rabbits’, which was how Kathryn explained Jake’s unconscious twitching, though Seven did not know how he could dream about pursuing creatures he had never seen. The other regular sounds of the ship, a soft hum from the air reclamation system, along with the steady, even throb of the ship’s warp engines carrying them back to the Alpha Quadrant, were profoundly relaxing, and slowly the young woman began to sink back into the warm darkness of sleep.

Janeway jerked suddenly, startling Seven awake, and the Borg looked down to see the fluttering beneath the captain’s eyelids, indicating REM sleep. Seven wondered what Janeway was dreaming about, whether it was good or bad or merely confused as so many dreams were. Perhaps Kathryn too, was ‘chasing rabbits’, though in her case, it would more likely be Hirogen or Kazon or Borg she was attempting to dispatch with her customary efficiency. Seven drew the smaller woman closer, brushing her lips comfortingly over the smooth forehead, and the captain seemed to quiet, the rapid eye movement slowing.

Seven sighed silently and closed her eyes one more time, allowing herself to drift off. She would have to get up soon and the day promised to be a typically busy one.

0600 Hours (Dawn)

“Annika, I can’t find my pips,” Janeway announced, down on her hands and knees by the bed as she peered under it, hoping that the tiny metal circles that denoted rank might have fallen onto the carpet. On the other side, she could see Jake’s snout snuffling enthusiastically along the deck, obviously trying to help her.

“Are they not on the nightstand?” Seven’s voice floated in from the ensuite where she was showering, the thrum of water hitting the wall requiring her to speak loudly.

Janeway resisted the sigh of annoyance. “I’m looking right at the night stand,” she shouted back. “They’re not there!”

“Have they fallen to the floor?”

Janeway gritted her teeth. “No, dear,” she said in what she hoped was an even voice. “I looked all over the floor.”

The sound of the shower ceased, and through the open door of the ensuite, Janeway heard her partner’s bare feet pad across the tiled floor. Seven’s head leaned around the door frame, regarding Janeway curiously as she toweled her long, blond hair.

“Then logically, you must have neglected to remove them prior to recycling your uniform last night,” Seven told her calmly, before disappearing back into the ensuite to finish her ablutions.

Janeway stifled the curse, realizing that Seven was probably right, which meant the captain would have to waste replicator rations for a set of new ones. Though the food replicators were now fully back on line, it required far more power from the equipment replicators to create certain inorganic materials as opposed to others. The crew’s uniforms were made of natural fibers that allowed them to be recycled easily. Rank insignia were always made of metal, solid duranium with gold plating, and the more power it took to create an item, the higher the number of rations. The tiny circles cost ten strips each … the main reason the crew carefully removed them before recycling their uniforms. Unless it was specifically requested, the replicator would not rematerialize the insignia along with the uniform.

“I can’t believe I didn’t take them off,” the captain grumped as she went into the ensuite, forcing herself not to be distracted by the sight of Seven pulling on a plum colored mesh-like outfit that covered her curvaceous body like a second skin. Of course, Janeway as commanding officer, had the most pips of anyone on the ship, four bright gold circles that adorned her collar. “I always take them off.”

“It does seem unusual,” Seven noted as she put her hair up, glancing at her spouse’s reflection in the large mirror as the captain passed behind her. “It is not like you to be so careless.”

Janeway glanced at her, frowning at the implied accusation of carelessness, then blushed as she suddenly remembered why she had been in such a hurry to shove her uniform in the replicator the previous evening, anxious to get back into the bedroom. Seven had been waiting for her, gloriously naked and promising all sorts of things with her eyes and lips. That would be enough to make anyone careless, Janeway thought ruefully.

“This is your fault,” the captain muttered.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Seven raise an outraged eyebrow at that, and she grinned wryly, reaching over to pat the young woman on the buttocks.

“If you hadn’t been so alluring last night, I would have paid more attention to what I was doing,” she elaborated.

Seven did not seem convinced. “I did not replicate my insignia when I recycled my outfit.”

Janeway snorted. “You don’t have any insignia.”

Seven glanced archly at her as she left, managing to get in the final word. “If I had, I would still not have been so careless as to forget to remove it from my outfit.”

Janeway made a face at her retreating back, and keyed in the requested patterns for her pips, wincing as the readout with her total of accumulated slips reduced radically in number. She had been saving up for a personalized pool cue, and this was going to set her back by several weeks.

During the good times when power was at a surplus, crewmembers … including the captain … were accorded ten to fifteen rations a day, most of which were normally used for small luxury items or civilian clothing. In the very worst times, only three rations were accorded per day. With the recent damage the ship had undergone, first by getting caught in a slipstream wake, then by surviving several attacks from various aliens, they were now being limited to five strips a day. Janeway had used two of those already, one for the uniform itself, and another for the rose which she had Neelix place in the astrometrics lab every morning for Seven’s eventual arrival.

Janeway took the tiny pips off the shelf where they materialized, and affixed them to her collar as she strolled back into the bedroom. Seven was standing by the bed, holding out her hand where four golden pips rested in the palm.

“You did not look behind the nightstand.”

Janeway said a very nasty word that made Seven’s eyebrows rise accordingly.

“This is going to be a very bad day,” the captain predicted with authority, stalking out to the living area. “I just know it.”

“Perhaps this is merely the worse part of it,” Seven said in an irritatingly reasonable tone as she followed Janeway, after putting the spare pips in the nightstand drawer for safe keeping. “It may improve from here.”

“I doubt that very much,” Janeway said, as she took a seat at the table. “Once a day starts off bad, it just tends to get worse.” She glanced at Seven. “Make waffles this morning,” she ordered.

Seven, on her way to the replicator, abruptly paused and turned, regarding her spouse with a frown. “Kathryn, I make you breakfast because I wish to, not because it is my duty, or required of me.” She came over and sat down at the table opposite Janeway, folding her arms over her chest, her jaw firming stubbornly. “I shall have a western omelet,” she added pointedly. “Please.”

Janeway glared back at her for a moment, and then realized that fighting about it would take far more time than if she simply got up and replicated the damned breakfast.

“Fine,” she said in a voice of pure ice. She went over to the replicator, programming in a stack of blueberry waffles and a western omelet, bringing the plates back to the table and placing them carefully on the surface, resisting the urge to slam them down. She went over to her side of the table and began to eat, ignoring her spouse.

“Are you angry?” Seven asked after a few moments.

Janeway paused, her fork midway to her mouth and with careful deliberation, put it down. “Not yet.” She showed her teeth in what was not a smile. “But I’m working on it.”

Seven subsided, obviously hurt, and Janeway finished her waffles, picking up her plate and putting it in the recycler. She was heading out the door when sheer common sense made her reconsider, forcing her to turn around and return to where her partner was still sitting at the table, picking at her food with little appetite. She wrapped her arms around the Borg’s neck and kissed Seven’s temple gently.

“I’m sorry, darling,” she said with a soft voice into Seven’s ear. “I don’t mean to take you for granted, nor do I need to take my bad mood out on you.”

Seven hesitated for a bit, then the tenseness left her shoulders, easing under her partner’s embrace, and she reached up to put her hand on Janeway’s forearm that was pressed across her chest.

“I am sorry that I chose this morning to make the point,” Seven replied quietly. “When things were already difficult for you.” She brought her head back so that her cheek was against Janeway’s, rubbing against it slightly with warm apology. “I shall deliver your thermos to the bridge a little later.”

“Thank you, love,” Janeway said, tilting her head and moving around so that she could look into the pale blue eyes. “Are we okay now?”

“No,” Seven said, surprising the captain. The Borg reached up and pulled Janeway onto her lap where she kissed her soundly. “Now we are ‘okay’.”

Janeway smiled and took a moment to relax against her partner, drawing her fingertips lovingly down the Borg’s cheek. “You were right. The day’s already looking up.”

But when she arrived on the bridge, she discovered a stack of personnel reports waiting for her, having forgotten that she had been avoiding them for the past week. They were due the next day, and she no longer had the option of putting them aside.

Chakotay, her first officer, grinned at her as he helpfully handed her the padds, and she favored him with a stern look. Then her eyes narrowed as she regarded the Maquis emblem gleaming golden on his collar.

“Have you had to replicate your insignia often?”

He blinked, shrugging briefly. “I’ve only had to do it once, early on when I was still getting used to the uniform.” It was an unknowing needle stuck into Janeway, who had been required to replicate various pips at least twenty times during the past five years they had journeyed through the Delta Quadrant.

Then, she realized that fifteen of those occasions had occurred within the last few months when she kept losing the tiny buttons during enthusiastic undressing prior to making love with Seven. She weighed her intensely delightful sex life with Chakotay’s less than successful one, and decided she was still coming out ahead despite all the rations it had cost. Still, she was curious.

“How many strips?”

“Twenty.” He grinned faintly as if knowing the reason she was asking. “It takes more than one of your pips do, but on the other hand, I only have the one insignia.”

Her jaw tightened and she granted him a disgruntled look, which only served to widen his grin. Without another word, she tucked the padds under her arm and headed for her ready room. Sometimes, it just wasn’t fair being captain.

She settled behind her desk and set to work, wondering why she simply didn’t toss aside this much despised chore, or better still, delegate it to some poor unsuspecting senior officer. After all, it wasn’t as if she were able to pass the updated files on to Starfleet Command as they would be if this were the Alpha Quadrant, nor was it likely that there was any recommendation that she might make in them that the entire ship didn’t already know about. One of her department heads, such as Tuvok or Chakotay, could easily take care of filling them out, and since these type of reports were used by the brass in deciding new postings, promotions and transfers within the fleet … of which, her ship was quite a long distance away from … it really did seem like a study in futility sometimes.

Still, there would come a day when Voyager would finally slide into orbit around Earth, and when her vessel downloaded its data banks, Janeway wanted every piece of the required paperwork to be in place and complete to the last detail, done exactly as protocol dictated. Janeway had, from the first moment they had been lost, determined that Voyager would continue to operate as a Starfleet ship despite its diverse crew, and her pride would not allow her to shirk her duty when she fully expected her people to abide by Starfleet regulations.

Twenty minutes later, Harry Kim entered, bearing the thermos which Seven had promised to drop by, and Janeway gratefully took a break, pouring herself the day’s first cup of coffee. She inhaled the deep rich odor of the dark liquid, and sipped it with full enjoyment, thinking not for the first time, how fortunate she was to have found Seven.

She was also truly thankful that she had made up with her before leaving their quarters. She would have had to do with the considerably less delicious coffee from the replicator for the rest of the day if she had insisted on hanging onto to her wounded pride rather than apologizing to her spouse.

That would have been unbearable.

0700 Hours

Jake’s ears perked up as Seven left the quarters, bearing the silver thermos beneath her arm. He waited until he heard her footsteps trail away, and gobbled up the last of his breakfast before trotting over to the door where she had exited. He had discovered a week or so earlier that when he leaped up, bracing his paws against a certain area of the wall, the portal would open, granting free admittance to the world outside. Of course, he had no idea that he had finally just reached a size allowing the tip of his snout to break the sensor beam that activated the door.

Neither did his mistresses, or there would have been a seal immediately placed on the beam to prevent the sensor from recognizing him as something that had access to go through that door.

Until they did, Jake had full run of the ship … or as far as he was able to explore. He had been over most of it before of course, but that had been on the end of a leash wielded by his smaller mistress, the one called Kathryn, the pack’s lead bitch. She was more commonly known as simply; ‘Captain’. Jake noticed that very few beings in this world called his mistress ‘Kathryn’. That seemed a name reserved for his other person, and when Seven said it, there was such love and emotion in her voice that Jake’s tail inevitably wagged when he heard it spoken. Seven’s special name was ‘Annika’, but again, that seemed reserved only for his other mistress. He guessed that when he had finally achieved a special name as the other two members in his pack had, he too would be considered someone of authority by the rest of the crew.

He trotted down the corridor, heading for the lift at the end of the hall. Once there, he leaped up to activate the sensor and went inside once the doors obligingly parted. The first day he escaped from his quarters, a passing crewmember had discovered Jake sitting wistfully in the turbolift that, of course, would not move without a destination. In a fit of whimsey, the crewmember gave the computer instructions to go up one level for every bark though no further than deck two … he was prudent enough to realize any animal, even the captain’s, would not be welcome on the bridge … and down one level for every two barks. Then, the crewmember went about his way, vastly amused by his accomplishment, but knowing he should probably never claim credit for it.

As far as Jake was concerned, it was a simple enough system, and he was a very smart pup. It didn’t take long before the animal realized that when he barked, the turbolift would move, just as it did when he was with his mistress on a walk. He was never particular about where he went, and since he had come to know every level on the ship, generally he could find something to do no matter what deck the turbolift deposited him on.

When it finally stopped and the doors opened once more, he trotted off, identifying where he was by the scent. Happily, he loped down the corridor to where a double set of doors guarded a most intriguing place. He knew he was not allowed inside … both his mistress and the odd little being who inhabited the interior had been quite clear on that … but if he politely sat outside long enough and looked exceedingly pitiful, the people who were exiting occasionally went back in and returned with a little bit of food. As did the odd little man on occasion.

Some time later, stuffed to the gills … it had been supper time for the gamma shift … Jake followed a group of crewmembers back into the turbolift. When he first ventured out into the world alone, people had looked at him oddly and exclaimed a bit, but the general consensus of the crew was that if the captain was giving him the run of the ship, that was certainly her prerogative. He was exceptionally well-mannered, behavior instilled in him with painstaking precision by Seven over a long period of time, and most crewmembers tended to either ignore him or accept his appearance as a nice break in their day. For some odd reason, not once did it seem to occur to a great many of them that the pet’s daily jaunts about the ship were still completely unknown to the captain and Seven. For those that did consider it, the concept was greeted by great glee and considerable bets were laid as to how long it would take the couple to find out.

All the food he’d received resulted in certain predictable biological results and when the turbolift finally stopped and everyone stepped off, Jake trotted directly to the small alcove set off at one end of an auxiliary corridor. Every deck boasted a device that Seven had invented to take care of such things, and Jake was quite familiar with each one, having been repeatedly taught that those were the only places where he could leave his spore. He obligingly did his business where he was supposed to before making his way to the place he liked to visit on this deck; the gymnasium where a portion of the crew were working out

He trotted through the space filled with people sweating and playing, accepting the pats and praise from the dog lovers as his due. He did not approach those he sensed were afraid or did not like him. Then, after having had his fill of basking in the attention, he headed out the door, intent on going where ever chance might take him.

He sensed that today was going to be a very good day.

0800 Hours

Seven of Nine ran her console through a diagnostic as she simultaneously reconfigured the sensor array, working quickly and efficiently. The last attack by the pirates, a local band of nomads that proliferated through this sector, had jarred things slightly out of alignment, and Seven knew it was best to get these things done when the opportunity arose and the situation was quiet. She glanced up as the doors to astrometrics hissed opened, and the ship’s helmsman, Lt. Tom Paris entered. It was rare to see Paris down on this deck, even though he very often navigated by the very star charts she assembled, and she quirked an eyebrow inquiringly as the boyishly handsome crewmember approached.

“Hey, Seven,” he greeted.

“Lt. Paris,” she returned evenly. She placed an automatic configuration on her board, allowing it to continue without requiring her input, and granted the young man her full attention. That was not something that she would have done a year earlier, but she had tempered her attitude with far more politeness since falling in love with the captain. “May I help you?”

“Uh, I wanted to know if the new charts are ready.”

Seven frowned faintly, wondering at that. “I sent the new charts to the bridge yesterday before logging off duty,” she responded, a trifle confused.

He held up his hand. “My fault, I left duty early yesterday, and today’s my day off. I haven’t been to the bridge.”

“Then why are you concerned about them?” She eyed him narrowly. He seemed ill at ease, as if he were here for some other reason, but finding it difficult to speak about it.

He grinned ruefully. “I guess I should know better than try any sort of a pretense with you, Seven,” he admitted, a lock of fair hair falling into his light blue eyes. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Ah,” Seven said, intrigued as she resumed her attention to her board. “I, however, am on duty. Can you speak while I work?”

He leaned against the console, but he did not begin the conversation immediately. Instead, he reached out a fingertip to touch the petals of the single red rose that was placed in a crystal vase perched on the top of Seven’s console. “Secret admirer?”

She keyed in some more data, then looked at him evenly. “The rose is from Kathryn. It is a romantic gesture to indicate she is thinking about me while we are not together.”

“Oh,” he said, blushing a bit though Seven did not know why. He took a breath. “I guess I’m not used to thinking of the captain like … that.”

“Like what?” She transfered a file that needed updating.

“Oh, you know. A romantic … a woman in love.”

“She is … ‘a woman in love’.” He seemed to be disassembling, not addressing the real reason he wished to speak with her. Seven glanced at him from beneath her lashes. “As am I.”

He smiled, shaking his head. “Sometimes I still can’t believe you two ever got together.”

She paused in her motion, then resumed. “Indeed,” she said, her voice becoming icy.

He seemed to realize he had made an error in judgement. “Not that you two shouldn’t be together,” he stammered. “I just meant that you’re both so different … not necessarily the pair I would have expected to have …” He trailed off before he got in any deeper.

She looked him full in the face, impatient finally with his lack of precision. “What is it that you want, Lt. Paris?”

He stared at her a moment, then took a breath, almost a sigh. “I want B’Elanna back.”

“Indeed?” She raised her head briefly in surprise. “You feel that I have some contribution to offer in achieving that goal?”

“You’re her friend,” he said, leaning toward her intently. “You know her better than anyone on the ship, and you could tell me the best way to approach her so that we can try our relationship again.”

She sought desperately for a way out. “I do not believe that you and B’Elanna are even suitable for each other.” That one stung him, she saw and she realized that aside from Janeway, she had never revealed that to anyone, not even to B’Elanna.

“Oh,” he said and she regretted that she had hurt him. He paused, obviously trying to think of a way to counter it. “You know, a lot of people didn’t think you and the captain were suitable for each other either.”

Seven blinked. She had not known that at all. “I see.”

“But that didn’t stop you from wanting to be with Captain Janeway, did it?”

“No, it did not,” she replied honestly. Nor would it, had she known about it.

“So you can understand why I want to be with B’Elanna, even though others might not think it would work,” he concluded triumphantly. He assumed a pleading expression. “I love her, Seven. I can’t stop thinking about her.”

Seven took a deep breath, wishing for a red alert or something equally as useful to rescue her from this. “I do not believe she thinks of you in that manner.”

“Maybe not, Seven,” he admitted. “Maybe I’m fooling myself into thinking it could work. God knows, I love her enough to want her to be happy, even if it meant that she was with Chakotay. But when he broke her heart, I knew I had an opportunity to make things right. I swear, Seven, if I had another chance, I would never do anything that would ever hurt her again.”

Seven keyed in some commands, thinking furiously. “How do you think I can assist you?”

He beamed, a smile spreading across his features like the sun peeping from behind dark clouds. “Sound her out, Seven. Find out if she still hates me, or if she’s willing to be friends again.”

Seven eyed him skeptically. “Friendship does not appear to be your goal.”

He shrugged. “I’d settle for it.” Seven did not know if he honestly believed that, or if he was attempting to deceive her. She could not imagine being ‘just friends’ with Kathryn. “If it leads to something more, all the better.”

“You must understand that what you ask may not be possible. B’Elanna feels you betrayed her in a fundamental way. I do not know if she will ever be able to forgive it.”

He took a breath, nodding. “I know, Seven, but I can’t change the past. I can only apologize and promise never to do it again. Believe me, if I had known she was still alive, I would never have even looked at another woman.”

Seven had only the vaguest experience with what he was speaking about, and thus could not offer much of an opinion. She did know through her conversations with B’Elanna, that the engineer had been very hurt by the helmsman’s perceived infidelity, and the Borg had been suitably affected by the seriousness of what the Klingon had said. Seven had made a vow to herself that she would never hurt Janeway in the manner that Paris had hurt Torres, not even accidently. She was quick to control any impulses to ‘look at another woman’, and indeed, had promptly confessed to an amused Janeway the single time it had happened to her.

“I will ‘sound her out’,” she said finally, with great reluctance.

“Subtly.” She stared at him and he grinned weakly. “Sorry, I forgot who I was talking to. Can you at least not tell her about this conversation?”

Seven frowned briefly. “If she asks, I will not lie.” She hesitated. “Perhaps, she will not ask.”

“That’s good enough.” He reached over, and to Seven’s amazed discomfort, hugged her briefly. “Thanks Seven. I owe you one.”

He strode briskly out the door, and Seven looked after him, frowning mightily, wondering if she hadn’t just agreed to something which would cause nothing but aggravation in the long run. She sighed. Maybe she would speak to Kathryn about this and get her opinion. Surely the captain would be able to help her formulate some kind of a plan of action about approaching B’Elanna.

One that hopefully would not result in her being chased through the ship by an enraged Klingon.

0900 Hours

Janeway glanced up as the chime to her door sounded and she twisted her shoulders, working out some of the stiffness from having sat in one place for so long.

“Come in.” Realizing that her coffee cup needing refilling, she carried it up to the ready room’s upper level to rectify that as the door opened to admit Chakotay.

“Captain, are you busy at the moment?”

“Not at all,” she lied cheerfully, conveniently forgetting about the remaining personnel reports that were still stacked on her desk. She watched as he mounted the short flight of stairs and waved him into the nearby chair. “Can I get you anything?”

He shook his head and she eyed him curiously as she took a seat on the couch, sipping from her cup slowly. She wondered at the way he seemed somewhat ill at ease, as if not knowing what to do with his hands, forcing herself to wait patiently as he took a deep breath and regarded her with an extremely serious expression.

“You know I’m not in the habit of bringing personal matters up while we’re on duty.”

“I know,” Janeway allowed, a little surprised, realizing this must be big for him to even come to her in the first place regardless of whether they were on duty or not. “But we’re a community, Chakotay, and when problems come up, it’s best to address them when the opportunity is there. Heaven knows, our quiet times are few and far between.”

“Thank you.” He seemed to be searching for the right words for what he had to say. Janeway’s curiosity grew in leaps and bounds. “I guess I’m coming to you because you’re a woman and one of the few people on the ship with a successful, on-going relationship.”

Janeway quirked an eyebrow. “I guess that makes me an expert on … what? Being married to a Borg?”

He grinned weakly. “More like, knowing how to win a woman’s heart and hold it close to you forever.”

Janeway blinked. That was a description of her that she never expected to hear. “Do you require some advice in that area?”

“It’s B’Elanna.” He took a breath. “I thought it was over … I guess I thought I wanted it to be, but the truth is, I can’t get her out of my mind. I want her back, Kathryn. I think you’re the one who can help me do it.”

Janeway felt the coffee go up her nose, having been in the unfortunate position of sipping it when he related this choice bit of information, and for a few moments, she was fully occupied with not choking to death. Alarmed, Chakotay helpfully thumped her on the back as she coughed and sputtered, finally managing to wipe her face with a napkin.

“Are you all right, Captain?”

She waved her hand weakly. “I’m fine,” she wheezed. “It just went down the wrong way.” She composed herself and settled back on the sofa cushions, looking at him warily. “How do you think I can help?”

“Well, I wouldn’t ask you to talk to B’Elanna, though it would be easier if I knew whether she hated me for sure or not.”

“Thank you,” she said, and if he noticed her tone was deeply ironic, he offered no sign of it.

“But maybe you could tell me those things you did to win Seven back, when you were ‘wooing’ her.”

Janeway resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Clearly, he had been talking to Tuvok before coming to her. “I don’t know that it’s the same thing at all, Chakotay. Seven wanted to be with me … she just wasn’t sure how. Also, our separation was one of circumstance, not because I had … ah, terminated the relationship.”

He winced. “That was the stupidest thing I ever did, Kathryn.”

She didn’t argue with him since she thought it was, too. “In any event, I’m not sure if anything I could suggest would work. B’Elanna is not a woman who had spent her life in the Borg collective, and thus would probably not be … impressed with the same gestures that Seven appreciates.”

“Then what do you think would work? With B’Elanna, I mean.”

He was staring at her intently, and suddenly Janeway wished she was anyplace but where she was. She wondered why her ship couldn’t be attacked right now when she would actually find it a welcome diversion rather than a threatening proposition.

“Maybe some poetry,” she offered weakly, grabbing the first thing that popped into her head. “Klingon poetry, of course. Otherwise, I’m not really sure of her tastes.”

“Could you find out?” he asked guilelessly. His eyes were wide and dark, looking at her as if she were the font of wisdom, and had the answer to all things. While she usually accepted that as merely her due, right now, it was tremendously discomforting.

“I … I will try,” she said, supremely horrified at what came out of her mouth before she could stop it.

He smiled widely. “Thank you, Kathryn. You don’t know how much this means to me.”

She waved her hand, trying to slow him down.

“Chakotay, I can’t offer any guarantees here. B’Elanna was very hurt by your … decision. If there’s one thing that Klingons know how to do, it’s hold a grudge. Right now, she’s somewhat civil to you. That could change if you made unwanted advances, and I don’t want my ship to become disrupted while she tries to disembowel you.”

“That’s why I came to you,” he said in all seriousness. “You’re discreet and charming. She would accept being approached by you on my behalf a great deal easier than being approached by me directly. In fact, that’s the Klingon tradition, having the elder member of the house present the qualities of a potential mate.”

Janeway looked at him, wondering how insulted she should be by what he had just said. Elder, my ass, she fumed, and desperately wished that she could come up with something that would make it clear just how bad an idea this really was. Unfortunately, her formidable intellect merely snickered in her face and went off to do something more logical and a great deal less troubling than what she was proposing, leaving her with nothing more than a weak smile to respond with.

“Thank you,” she said lamely.

“No, thank you,” he said sincerely. “I really appreciate this, Kathryn.”

He got to his feet and with a final, parting smile of gratitude, he left her ready room.

Janeway sat limply on the couch, trying to adapt to what had just happened. She had been a bit of a matchmaker at one point, she knew, but none of her attempts had been particularly successful, and why people were suddenly coming to her now completely baffled her. After all, it wasn’t as if she didn’t already have her hands full with her own relationship.

Which led her thoughts back to the morning and the minor tiff she and Seven had experienced at breakfast. She had apologized, but that was more to make peace rather than to resolve the actual conflict. Now she wondered if perhaps Seven had a point. Was she taking the young woman for granted? She sipped her coffee and went over the past few months since their wedding; the incident where Seven had helped Kathryn get over a deep depression, the inadvertent exposure to possible futures which had devastated Seven emotionally, the captain’s nanoprobes that had almost ended up killing her while Seven desperately searched for a cure. Janeway realized suddenly how very fragile her partner must be feeling in the aftermath of all that, and she decided that she needed to do something about that. Marriage did not mean that the romance ended … or at least it shouldn’t.

Perhaps her greatest concern should not be how Chakotay could ‘woo’ B’Elanna. Maybe she should focus her attentions on how she could assure Seven that she was absolutely still the most important person in the universe to her.

1000 Hours

Jake trotted down the corridor, nose to the deck, following a particularly intriguing scent. It was animalistic, but odd, completely unlike anything he or his instincts had ever experienced before. He was brought up short by a door and he sat down, eyeing it closely. He was not supposed to go into places like this without a Human at the end of his leash, but that scent … that maddening, inviting, totally alluring scent … drew him on, demanding that he discover the source of it.

It was too much too resist and he rose up, breaking the beam that keyed the door. He walked in, aware the scent was much stronger here, and knew he was entering the territory of the other animal. His ears up, his eyes keenly alert, he raised his head, sniffing avidly.

There on the table, regarding him with big dark eyes with fur the color of sky and water, tufts on the oversized ears the color of his Seven’s hair, the creature waited. Jake whined slightly, moving closer, practically wiggling with anticipation and interest. Would this be another friend, something that would play with him? A being like he who was adored by the clumsy people who staggered about on two legs instead of on four like sensible creatures?

He yelped as a tiny clawed paw batted his snout, startling him more than hurting him. He bounded sideways into a table, toppling it over with a crash. Startled once more, he barked, causing the strange creature to hiss and snarl, the fur standing straight out as if electrified. That scared him even more, and he started looking anxiously for a way out.

The creature apparently decided that despite the distinct size difference, it was very clear who had the upper paw here and it flowed off the table, down the leg in a serpentine motion and stalked across the floor on stiff legs toward the now thoroughly frightened pup. Jake kept backing up, trying to avoid the tiny little terror, knocking over more furniture as a variety of Harry Kim’s belongings … Jake had recognized the young lieutenant’s scent as belonging to this lair … crashed to the floor.

When Jake was finally backed into the corner, he had no choice. He may not be the most graceful of pups, but he was not a complete coward and with a bark that was a bit frantic, he leaped forward. This changed things considerably. The creature let out a funny, high pitched squeak, leaped straight up in the air, and whirled, skittering quickly away on its little legs.

This was more like it and with another bark, an ecstatic one this time, Jake bounded enthusiastically after it. Apparently he had misunderstood. It wanted to play, after all. For the next few minutes, Jake chased the little creature around and around the quarters, causing a great deal of mass destruction that really did not particularly concern the pup. Indeed, he thought the noise and chaos created a fine atmosphere in which to play, as various things fell and were shattered, their contents scattering far and wide which Jake and the little creature immediately tracked through and carried onto the as yet untouched parts of the room.

Finally, he treed the creature on top of a book case, and when it became clear it wasn’t going to come down anytime soon, he gave a final bark of gratitude for what had been a remarkably entertaining time and left, having found the door in his mad scramble about the room.

Cheekily, he trotted down the corridor, head held high, leaving the creature to take credit for his redecorating as he sought out a new adventure. He decided that the next time, he would try to entice the creature out into the larger part of the ship where they would have far more room to play. It was the least he could do for his new friend for providing such an excellent game of chase.

1100 Hours

“Spanner.”

Seven held out her hand expectantly, and was promptly handed the requested tool by B’Elanna who did not pause in her story. When the chief engineer had contacted Seven and asked if she would help reconfigure one of the gel pack conduits, the Borg had deemed it a perfect opportunity to carry out her promise to Tom Paris. But once they had begun work in the Jeffries tube, the young woman discovered it was considerably more difficult than she had anticipated. It was extremely hard for her to work it into the conversation ‘subtly’.

Seven of Nine had never been particularly good at being ‘subtle’. The few times she had managed it, she was never sure how, and suspected that those occasions had been purely accidental. She was much better at just flat out asking what she wanted to know. She suspected that would be inappropriate in this situation. She really didn’t want to upset B’Elanna, especially in such close quarters where the Borg’s greater size and speed would not be the advantage it normally was.

It was impossible to run in a Jeffries tube.

“So then, she leaned over and showed me her cleavage,” the Klingon finished up triumphantly. “What do you think of that?”

“That she should have knelt instead of bending over?”

B’Elanna rolled her eyes. “No, damn it, Seven,” she said in exasperation. “It means that she might be interested in me … romantically, I mean.”

Seven looked at her, frowning. “Isn’t Jennifer Delaney the woman with whom Tom Paris copulated?”

“Well, I slept with him, too,” B’Elanna said. “I don’t hold it against her.”

“But you were very angry at her,” Seven noted with confusion.

“No, I was ticked off at Tom, for not granting me the required honor of waiting the proper time before being with someone else. It was disrespectful and since he knows Klingon tradition, it meant he was cheating on me, just as if he had known I was alive.”

Seven resumed her work on the conduit. “I am not sure Ensign Delaney would find you attractive,” she said, realizing it was a mistake almost as soon as it left her mouth, and wished she could take it back even as B’Elanna seemed to bristle with indignation.

“What does that mean? I’m good looking.” An anxious expression came over her face. “Don’t you think I’m attractive, Seven?”

This was definitely not a place Seven wanted to go.

“You are … aesthetically pleasing,” she admitted weakly.

B’Elanna stared at her. “Well, thanks for nothing, buddy,” she said, a hurt tone in her voice.

Seven was actually glad to leave it at that, though she was sorry that B’Elanna seemed piqued by her words. She was certainly not going to volunteer that ‘aesthetically pleasing’ was the first compliment she had ever given Kathryn regarding the captain’s physical appearance, or that on at least one occasion, she had decided that B’Elanna was attractive enough to actually think about kissing her … or at least, kissing a certain part of her body.

“In any event,” Seven continued, making her voice very even, “Ensign Delaney has never indicated any interest in female companionship.”

“Well, then I’d be her first,” B’Elanna said cheerfully, obviously forgetting her stung feelings for the moment.

Seven shot her a look. “Is that important?”

“It can be an extra … incentive.” B’Elanna eyed Seven covertly. “I’ll bet Janeway really likes the fact she was your ‘first’.”

The Borg blinked as she absorbed this. “I do not believe we have discussed it,” Seven said, filing it away to bring up with her partner sometime in the future. She shifted position to keep the blood flowing into her legs that were tucked up under her and attacked another part of the repair. “Are you in love with Jennifer Delaney?”

“I don’t even know her, but she is good looking.” The Klingon leaned back against the curved wall of the tube and stared thoughtfully into space. “Wouldn’t it frost Paris’s ass to know I’d had her too?”

Seven looked over, raising an eyebrow with interest. “Is it important how Lt. Paris feels about you?” she asked, leaping on it eagerly.

B’Elanna looked uncomfortable. “Of course not,” she blustered. “I’m way over him.”

Seven observed her closely. She wondered if this was a case of ‘protesting too much’ as Kathryn was apt to note on occasion. Such a strong response to a question could sometimes indicate the person actually felt the reverse of what they were expressing. She wished she had more experience with it so that she could judge accurately.

“I see,” she said slowly. She took a breath and steeled herself. “Perhaps he is not ‘over’ you.”

B’Elanna frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Seven searched desperately for something to say. “I merely wish to take all factors into consideration. Is it possible that Paris still has strong feelings for you?”

B’Elanna waved it off. “Naw,” she said dismissively. “He’s moved on. So have I.”

“Hypothetically,” Seven continued stubbornly. “Would you be adverse to his retaining his feelings for you?”

B’Elanna stared at her. “Seven, do you know something I don’t know?”

That was harder to respond to. Seven would not lie, not if she could help it. She would misdirect and refuse to answer at the request of her partner regarding their relationship, or things which involved the security of the ship, but she found it very difficult to flat out lie.

“Perhaps I am aware that Mr. Paris continues to care very deeply for you. Would that be something you would … welcome?”

B’Elanna was silent for a few moments, a dark expression on her face. “He cheated on me, Seven,” she said finally, in an icy voice. “That is as loathsome as you get, remember?”

“I understand,” Seven said, remembering their previous discussions regarding Paris’s perceived infidelity. It had colored her perception of the thing known as ‘cheating’ considerably. “Nonetheless, he did believe you were … dead. Sometimes it is necessary to continue on after one’s mate has died. It does not mean that they love you any less.” She paused, thinking about it and all the discoveries she had made about life and death recently. “Sometimes it is a way to show that love does not die with the person … that it can continue on to be shared by another,” she added uncertainly, as new concepts filtered through her mind.

B’Elanna snorted. “There’s no way Tom was in love with Jennifer Delaney. He just wanted a little ‘physical comforting’.”

“Is that so wrong?” Seven asked with honest curiosity. “Physical contact makes me feel better when I am sad.”

“This wasn’t a hug, Seven,” B’Elanna pointed out tartly.

Seven took a slow breath and looked her friend full in the face. “We all make mistakes, B’Elanna. I have hurt Kathryn often, unintentionally, just as she has hurt me. Yet, we forgive each other because we know we love each other. After all, being without each other is a far worse fate than the empty satisfaction of ‘winning’ an argument or being ‘right’ can adequately counter.”

B’Elanna shook her head. “I don’t believe you ever hurt the captain all that much.”

“B’Elanna,” Seven said bleakly, “I assimilated Kathryn. I almost killed her.”

“You weren’t responsible for that,” Torres said, reaching out to put her hand comfortingly on the Borg’s shoulder. “You didn’t mean to hurt her.”

Seven regarded her steadily. “Neither did Lt. Paris intend to hurt you.”

Caught, B’Elanna stared at her, then anger appeared in her eyes. “Seven, I don’t want to talk about this.” She looked at the conduit then back at the Borg, frowning mightily. “I think you can probably finish this yourself. I need to get back to engineering.”

“I am sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” Seven said with concern.

“You didn’t,” B’Elanna said shortly … Seven recognizing that as a blatant untruth … and crawled away, disappearing around the corner of the conduit.

The Borg listened to the Klingon activate the hatch to the corridor below and with a sigh, she heard it seal itself as Torres dropped through it, leaving Seven all alone in the Jeffries tube.

“That did not go well,” she noted out loud to herself, hearing her voice echo tinnily in the cramped quarters.

Promising herself that next time, she’d try to stay out of other people’s romantic situations.

1200 Hours

“B’Elanna,” Janeway greeted.

Her chief engineer looked up and the captain was startled by the stormy cast to the dark eyes, not necessarily a good thing to see when dealing with a Klingon.

“Captain,” she responded, a bit sullenly. She eyed the basket Janeway was carrying narrowly and motioned with her head over her shoulder. “Seven’s still in Jeffries tube three.”

“Is something wrong?” Janeway asked cautiously.

“Captain, I would appreciate if you and your wife would stay out of my personal life,” B’Elanna burst out.

Janeway blinked. Obviously this was not the time to find out what B’Elanna looked for when being ‘wooed’.

“Lieutenant?” the captain said, lowering the temperature of her voice a touch, just to remind the Klingon who she was speaking to. She did not want a repeat of the previous incidents when B’Elanna’s friendship with Seven made the engineer think she could get away with inappropriate behavior toward the captain.

“I’m sorry, Captain,” B’Elanna said, flustered. “Seven and I were just … well, some things just shouldn’t be discussed on duty.”

Janeway resisted the urge to laugh in the young woman’s face, since B’Elanna and Seven’s discussions on Seven’s love life were legendary on the ship. Now it sounded like it was B’Elanna’s love life, rather than the Borg and the captain’s, that Seven was intent on dissecting. Janeway wondered if Chakotay had gotten to her partner as well. That would make things … complicated. Seven lacked the captain’s subtlety.

“I totally agree, lieutenant, and if you’d care to give the specifics, I will be glad to speak to Seven about it,” Janeway told the Klingon in her most reasonable tone.

B’Elanna glared at her. “Never mind. It’s nothing.”

“Very well,” Janeway said in a way that indicated she was agreeable about letting it go … for now. She looked up at the hatch that B’Elanna had just dropped through. “Seven is still working?”

B’Elanna nodded. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to get to engineering.”

Janeway looked after the engineer’s retreating figure with a speculative expression, then her eyes narrowed and she headed for the ladder leading to the access hatch. She didn’t know what her partner had been up to, and it certainly sounded interesting, but it wasn’t anything she was going to pursue at the moment. Right now, there were other pursuits she was far more interested in sharing with her spouse.

With difficulty, she hefted the heavy basket as she awkwardly climbed the steps, precariously gripping the rungs with one hand at any given time. Not for the first time, she was aware at how weak her illness had left her. Before, she’d have tucked the basket under her arm and scaled the ladder without a pause. She glanced around to make sure she was alone in the auxiliary corridor, then used her nose to activate the touch pad, opening the hatch.

“Seven,” she called. “Help me with this.”

She heard the shuffling of her partner as she crawled through the tube to the hatch and then the basket was being lifted out of the captain’s hand. She looked up to see the narrow face of Seven peering down at her with confusion.

“Captain?”

“Just Kathryn at the moment,” Janeway corrected with a grin as she ascended through the opening into the Jeffries tube. “It’s 1215 hours so I thought we’d have lunch.”

“Indeed,” Seven noted, quirking an eyebrow. She looked at Janeway, then at the basket as they crawled back to where Seven had been working. “Is this a … picnic?”

“Unless you’re not hungry,” Janeway said as she sat down crosslegged on the decking. Her heart caught at the obvious delight that filled Seven’s pale blue eyes then, making them almost glow, and Janeway was very pleased that she had thought of this. Clearly, it had been long enough since their last picnic that Seven considered this a special occasion indeed.

“I am very hungry.”

Janeway smiled and pulled a checkered blanket from the basket, spreading it over the grill that made up the Jeffries tube floor. Then she began to unpack the lunch from the basket as Seven helped.

“Why are we having a picnic?” the Borg asked curiously as she pried the lid off the container of sandwiches.

“Because it’s been a while,” Janeway admitted. “Also, I had a conversation this morning that reminded me that just because you and I are married doesn’t mean I should stop ‘wooing’ you altogether.”

“Wooing?” Seven echoed, looking at her oddly, and Janeway realized she had never really identified what she had been doing when she had been trying to win Seven back after the captain had lost her memories. “What does that mean?”

“It’s a term used to describe when I use gestures to indicate how much I enjoy being with you,” Janeway explained in a gentler tone. “When I try to show you how very much I love you.”

Seven blushed faintly, her fair skin glowing pink. “I like being with you, Kathryn, and I never forget how much you love me. Nonetheless, I am very appreciative for this.”

Janeway leaned over and kissed her sweetly. “You mean the world to me, my darling. I also wanted to apologize again for this morning. Maybe I have been taking all you do for me for granted, particularly how you maintain our quarters. You’ve made that a home for us, rather than just the place where we cohabitat, and I want you to know how much that means to me, as well as to thank you for it. It’s been a hard few months since our honeymoon, what with pirates and spatial anomalies and my … illness. Perhaps we just need to take some time to enjoy ourselves for a little while.”

“That would be … very acceptable.” Seven’s eyes were such a bright blue that Janeway wondered if there was a name for that shade. It was sky and water and sunshine itself, and Janeway felt her heart fill as the Borg looked eagerly at the spread the captain was laying out before her. “Are we having croissants?”

“Not today,” Janeway told her, smiling at her partner’s enthusiasm. “Today, we’re having an old fashioned North American picnic, just as I had when I was a child. There’s potato salad, sandwiches … both tuna fish on white and ham and cheese on whole wheat … pickles, and a pitcher of lemonade. Along with some pudding for desert.”

Seven wiggled almost like Jake did when he was especially pleased, and Janeway’s smile widened, wondering if the Borg had acquired the mannerism from the dog or vice versa. The Borg accepted the paper plate Janeway handed her, looking at what it contained inquisitively, her head tilted slightly.

“I do not believe I have ever tried any of these foods.”

“I hope you enjoy them.”

“I am sure that I will.” Seven used the fork to scoop up a bite of the potato salad, tasting it gingerly. It was one of the very few things Janeway could replicate which approximated her mother’s recipe, and one which had not been given to Seven … perhaps because Gretchen had not anticipated that one could have picnics in space. Janeway could tell just from the expression which spread over the narrow features that the Borg enjoyed the combination of flavors tremendously.

She made a mental note to herself never to allow Seven to play poker with anyone.

The Borg waited until Janeway had finally taken a bite from her sandwich, and it came to the captain suddenly that Seven did not know how they were meant to be eaten. She watched with gentle amusement as Seven carefully mimicked her partner, taking the sandwich in her hand and biting exactly in the middle of one edge, just as Janeway did. The captain felt a wave of tenderness flow through her at Seven’s childlike innocence that occurred at such unexpected times, and she moved closer to her partner, pouring her a glass full of lemonade from the chilled thermos.

“Try this,” she invited, passing it to her. “It may not be as sweet as you’d like.”

Despite the warning, she saw that Seven was unprepared for the tartness of it, and she screwed up her face in such a way that Janeway was very hard pressed not to laugh out loud.

“It is … different,” Seven said, after swallowing.

“You get used to it,” Janeway said, patting her on the shoulder. “I’ll program it a bit sweeter next time. It’s basically just lemon juice, sugar and water. I guess it needs more sugar.”

“Possibly,” Seven allowed. She studied her sandwich. “Are the green things celery?”

Janeway looked. “I think so. The white stuff is mayonnaise. The brown bits are the tuna fish.”

“Ah,” Seven asked, as always, intently curious about how the food was created. “You mix all these things together and spread it on the bread?”

Janeway, who had replicated the sandwiches fully intact, blinked. “I guess,” she said, not really knowing at all.

Seven nodded with satisfaction. “I can make these.”

Janeway knew what Seven really meant was that she could make them better, though the Borg hadn’t added that part and the captain was forced to stifle her smile by taking another bite of potato salad. She raised an eyebrow as she saw Seven take apart the other sandwich to see how it was constructed, examining the contents … the yellow paste of mustard, the thin layer of orange cheddar cheese, the pinkish brown of the ham, the green of the lettuce, and the white mayonnaise … with a keen scientific appraisal.

“This would be interesting with mozzarella,” Seven noted finally. “Perhaps a different type of mustard.” When she turned her attention on the potato salad, Janeway gave up, falling onto her side and snorting laughter until she was weak.

Seven ignored her, fully aware that she was the cause of her partner’s mirth, but not understanding why as she intently examined the salad. She was not upset by it however, since she knew Janeway’s sense of humor was never malicious, merely quirky at times. Seven always kept in mind that it was only with her that the captain was comfortable enough to laugh and enjoy herself so freely.

“So how’s the potato salad made?” Janeway asked with a wide grin after she had finally laughed herself out, sitting up to brush the dust off her uniform.

Seven raised an eyebrow. “With potato, of course,” she said, as if it should be obvious to the captain. “Yet, it seems somewhat of a misnomer. There are also eggs, mayonnaise, tomatoes, lettuce, peas, and mushrooms. Why would its designation be derived from only one ingredient?”

“Maybe because potato is the main ingredient?” Janeway suggested brightly.

Seven nodded slowly. “That is possible, but there seems to be as much egg and lettuce present in the mixture as potato.”

“We can name it whatever you want, darling,” Janeway told her indulgently. She reached over, and carefully wiped away a smear of mayo from the corner of the Borg’s mouth. Then she drew the blonde head to her with fingertips beneath the narrow chin, kissing her with loving gentleness. “You’re my heart, Annika,” she murmured against her lips. “I just want to make your life as wonderful as possible.”

“You do,” Seven assured her. “Every moment.”

They beamed at each other for a few seconds before resuming their meal. Seven, now that she was not determining how everything was created, finished her sandwiches and salad quickly, and looked on with interest as Janeway drew out the containers of mixed swirled chocolate and caramel pudding, handing her spouse one.

“And before you ask,” Janeway told her. “No, I don’t know how these are made.”

“I will research it,” Seven said unperturbed, her eyes lighting up as she took a small bite, then another, much larger one. “This tastes very good.”

She finished it quickly as Janeway watched, smiling gently.

After packing up the now emptied containers into the basket, Seven leaned against the curved wall of the Jeffries tube while Janeway positioned herself between the Borg’s knees, snuggling against the young woman’s front as the strong, slender arms wrapped around her. Occasionally, Seven would lean forward and brush her lips over the captain’s temple or neck, or nuzzle gently along her cheek, and Janeway would shiver from the sheer sensation of the love she felt surrounding her.

“Thank you for this,” Seven said softly. “I know it is hard for you to get away from the bridge, especially in the middle of the alpha shift rotation. It means a lot that you would do this for me.”

Janeway looked up into the beloved blond features and smiled briefly. “I should be doing it more often, darling. Not just for you, but for me, too. It makes everything in my life go a little smoother when I can take a few moments to see your beautiful face.”

Seven pulled her closer in response and Janeway rested her head on her partner’s shoulder, wishing they had more time before they had to return to duty. She supposed she should ask Seven what was going on with B’Elanna, but decided it could wait until later. For now, she was content to spend these few precious moments in her lover’s arms, listening to the beating of her heart and loving her with everything she was.

Knowing only that the day which had started in such so utter aggravation had suddenly taken on a soft glow of joy and pleasure.

1300 Hours

Jake loped across the deck of cargo bay two, pleased to have found this area of the ship that seemed the perfect spot to stretch his legs. His mistresses and others occasionally took him into the holodeck to run, but he was always aware that it was an illusion, and the confusion caused by his eyes telling him one thing while his nose told him another, made him very uncomfortable. This was much better, a single cavernous room full of interesting nooks created by equipment and stacks of containers, yet with enough clear space for him to run as fast as he could without being overly constrained by walls. Best of all, one area of it smelled strongly of Seven, almost as if she had spent a lot of time here, and it made it feel like home. Because the bay was not cleaned or polished as much as the other parts of the ship, it was far more fascinating to explore, as well. Scents and textures lingered long after they had disappeared from other areas, and he enjoyed experiencing them.

A glow in one dark, dank corner of the room caught his attention, and he eyed it with interest, though he approached with caution, remembering how he had gotten a tiny paw full of claws across the snout for his troubles the last time he examined something different. Still, that had turned out so wonderful in the end, that he was anxious for another adventure.

He sniffed gingerly and wrinkled his nose, backing away a little. This was an unpleasant scent, arid, almost acidic in its odor, and the glow shaded into a spectrum which Humans could not see, making it uncomfortable for his eyes to look at it for very long. He could sense motion in the flickering illumination, and his head tilted to the left. He barked once, just to see what would happen, and all motion abruptly stopped.

He barked again and abruptly a tentacle shot out, wrapping around his foreleg. Jake yelped and struggled backward, the line of transparent goo stretching into a thin band. It began to burn where it touched his leg, and furiously, the pup snapped at it, severing the band with his teeth. It tasted horrible, and he kept sneezing and panting as he limped away, frightened and disturbed at such an odd thing. Obviously it was a predator of some sort and he had entered its territory.

He barked loudly at a safer distance, dodging as yet another tentacle shot out, barely missing him. In his doggy brain, he understood dimly that this was a threat to himself, and worse, to his home and people. He whined, looking around anxiously, suddenly wanting to see his people, believing absolutely that they would know how to deal with it.

His barks grew more frantic as from the shadows, the rest of the creature emerged, a bulky blob of gelatinous tissue, two optical orbs perched on twin antennae, centering on the dog. Jake became aware suddenly that he was in grave danger, and every instinct told him he was being hunted.

Panic stricken, he skittered away, frantically searching for the way out, but unfortunately the creature had positioned itself between him and the door. Jake was trapped and more tentacles began to shoot out at him. He howled and leaped sideways into a group of barrel like containers, knocking several of them over. One, a little weaker than the rest, cracked its seal, and the contents spilled out over the deck.

It was the carbonated solution that Neelix used for soaking his leola roots, and when the rush of fluid reached the creature, it began to smoke, issuing the most horrible screams the pup had ever experienced. Jake cowered on the dais near Seven’s Borg alcove, pressed up against the deactivated equipment, trying to find comfort from her faint scent that lingered on the tubing.

Finally, the hertamera, the dreaded flesh eater from Corvus III that had been brought aboard unknowingly in a group of supplies picked up in a system light years back, expired in a most horrible and painful way. With one decisive move, Jake, the Irish Setter, had saved Voyager’s crew from a fate worse than death, preventing the creature from growing large enough to kill a full grown human with just a touch of its stinging tentacles, preventing it from spawning the eggs in the sack on its back in the water reclamation chamber where they would have hatched into hundreds of creatures just like it, and finally, preventing all the horrific little organisms from overwhelming the ship within hours despite the crew’s best effort to prevent the onslaught.

When the last remains of the creature finally shriveled and disappeared into the milky fluid growing sour in the middle of the deck, Jake tentatively crept closer. Then, with a final sniff that made him sneeze once more, he slunk away from the cargo bay, knowing he would probably be in trouble as a result of this mess. He had been trained to recognize that those type of containers were not to be touched, and breaking one was sure to result in a scolding of considerable proportions.

Suddenly, this day wasn’t going as well as he had originally anticipated.

1400 Hours

Seven of Nine finished her final bit of repair work and gathered up her tools, still basking in the pleasant haze of the surprise her spouse had sprung on her. Her generous lips persisted on curling upward at each corner, and she tried unsuccessfully to compose herself, thinking that it was probably not appropriate to spend the rest of her duty shift boasting a silly grin. She did know she was extremely glad she had found Kathryn … she could only imagine how empty her life would have been otherwise. Seven was especially pleased that instead of becoming complacent in her love, Kathryn seemed to work even harder to nurture it, coming up with such charming ways to show how she felt. It gave the Borg a warm feeling inside, a sweet sensation of contentment and joy.

For a moment, her mind drifted to thoughts of people who were not so fortunate in love, and she sobered as she remembered how upset B’Elanna Torres had been when she disappeared earlier. Seven had not meant to antagonize her friend, though she was certainly glad the Klingon had decided to leave rather than show her dismay in other ways, such as a physical confrontation.

She also realized that she hadn’t discussed her current problem with Kathryn, but it had been so nice to be with the captain, and forget the outside universe for awhile, that it had slipped her mind. The warm feeling of love wrapped itself around her again, and the smile returned as she crawled out of the Jeffries tube, descending the ladder. She carried her tool kit back to engineering, glancing around in the hopes of seeing her friend, but apparently Lt. Torres was occupied elsewhere, and Seven decided she would have to find her later to try to heal the breach she had caused.

There was a small chirp and Seven blinked. “Sickbay to Seven,” the Doctor’s ponderous tones issued from the small communicator attached to her left breast.

“Seven here.”

“Just a reminder about your maintenance this afternoon.”

“Thank you, Doctor.” She did not require reminders, but it was no good to tell him that. Because Janeway was notorious for forgetting her appointments, he apparently thought Seven was as well, despite the fact she had never missed one in the entire time she had been on Voyager. She wondered at the way people now seemed to think how Janeway was about things was also how she would be … and vice versa. Was it a perception based on the fact they were married? “I shall be there at 1520 hours, as expected.”

She headed for astrometrics, hoping to have some of the new charts started before the end of her duty shift and her appointment in sickbay. Her comm badge chirped again, this time with the warm, rich tones of her partner’s voice.

“Seven of Nine to the bridge.”

“On my way,” she responded and altered her course abruptly, returning to the turbolift. It accelerated upward smoothly, and she stepped onto the bridge, moving quickly to the tactical station aft of the command chairs. On the fore viewscreen, she could see what looked like a debris field, and she ran a scan, bringing herself up to speed on what Voyager had already discovered. She noted that with Tom Paris spending a day off, the helm was now being manned by Lt. Nicoletti while, on the port side of the bridge, Harry Kim keyed commands into his ops station.

“No life forms registering, Captain,” Lt. Kim reported in a grim tone. “No survivors at all.”

To Seven’s right, Tuvok raised his head from where he had been intently studying his console. “Weapons signature is consistent with those we have encountered before from the nomads, but they’re hours old. Warp signatures have been masked, and it will be difficult to follow them.”

The captain shook her head. “Resume course for the Alpha Quadrant.”

Her voice was quiet, deceptively mild, and Seven’s eyes darted to where Janeway was standing on the lower level of the bridge, her arms crossed over her chest. When the captain turned to look back at Chakotay, Seven could see the sorrow for the unknown lives that had been lost and the determined resolve to do something … anything about it.

“I want all senior staff in the conference room now,” the captain told her first officer. “It’s time we take a good, hard look at this.”

Seven resisted the urge to sigh, and followed the rest of the senior bridge crew into the next room that contained a large table. At one end, in the ‘head’ chair beneath the large windows, Janeway took a seat, while Chakotay sat down at the captain’s right hand, and Tuvok sat to her left. Seven took her seat on the other end of the table opposite the captain, though originally, a chair had not been placed in that area. It was only after the Borg had returned after being transported to the Alpha Quadrant, that she had began sitting where she could always see Kathryn clearly during meetings, and the captain could, in turn, see her. It had never been commented on …. at least, not in the Borg’s hearing …. so she continued to maintain the position. She was aware enough to realize it indicated a level of power accorded her in some way. Just how was too subtle for her to determine exactly.

They waited for the rest of the senior staff to arrive, the Doctor from sickbay, Lt. Torres from engineering, and Lt. Paris who arrived still wearing his Captain Proton uniform, obviously having been indulging in his favorite holoprogram during his free time. He offered Seven a inquiring glance, but the Borg did not respond … mostly because she didn’t have anything to respond with. She noticed that rather than sit next to B’Elanna, he took a seat opposite the Klingon.

Janeway raised her eyebrow, and once everyone had settled, began the meeting.

“These pirates are becoming a very real threat and a constant danger. They seem to be growing in strength and becoming less discriminating about their targets, even in the short time we’ve been in this sector.”

“All the local civilizations have histories of pirates operating in this area,” Tuvok noted calmly. “It is a problem they have lived with for centuries, and seem quite content to continue with it. Is it our place to police this area of space?”

“That ship was a refugee vessel,” Chakotay noted with a touch of anger. “Out of Vargas VI, probably on their way to a better life. These bastards just ransacked it and killed everyone.”

“Nonetheless,” Tuvok replied evenly, “it is a way of life for these nomads to raid individual ships. I’m sure those refugees realized the risk when they started out on their journey, and determined it was a reasonable danger. In any event, the Prime Directive prohibits us from interfering.”

“Aren’t we interfering just by being here?” Paris noted, spreading his hands. “I mean, how many times have we been attacked, and how many pirate ships have we been forced to destroy, in order to escape their attempts to raid Voyager? If we can do something, maybe we should, and besides, doesn’t the prime directive only apply to pre-warp civilizations? Since there’s no central governing body, this space is lawless. If we decide to do something about cleaning it up for our own protection, I can’t see Starfleet objecting.”

Seven sat alertly in her seat, hands folded neatly on the table before her, intently listening to all these comments. The captain, in contrast, seemed totally relaxed, lounging in her chair with slightly lidded eyes, her chin resting on her thumb as her forefinger framed her left cheek. Seven knew that her spouse was listening just as keenly as the Borg was, absorbing all the various opinions of her people before making her own decision, based partially on what she had heard but mostly on what was in her heart … which sometimes was not always in accordance to what her crew thought. But that was why she was captain. Janeway was willing to accept responsibility for such monumental decisions.

“I say we have enough problems without taking on more,” B’Elanna spoke up forcefully. “I mean, I’m sorry about those refugees, but the fact is, Voyager has taken quite a few hits the past little while, and we have more than enough to worry about with just making sure we get through this sector intact. We’re currently not in the best shape to be trying to protect others.”

“We’re strong enough to survive the attacks,” the Doctor said firmly. “A great many people aren’t. Do we just stand by and let them be destroyed?”

B’Elanna shook her head. “I’m not saying we should close our eyes and pass by if we happen upon a fight. But we’re not in a position where we can go looking for trouble.”

“Even if we were,” Harry agreed, supporting the Klingon, “what would we do if we found a group of nomads? Kill them all?”

“Perhaps we could offer to negotiate somehow,” Neelix proposed. “Why are these beings pirates? Probably it’s because they have no home of their own. They are dissidents or refugees driven from their home worlds, and forced to scrape a living from wherever they can. If we could unify the worlds in this sector somehow, perhaps we could then negotiate to find the nomads a place of their own.”

Seven saw this interested her partner greatly, and she forced herself not to protest too quickly.

Tuvok raised an eyebrow. “You are suggesting that we reconstruct the political and social fabric of this entire sector,” he noted in a slightly condescending tone. “Even if we were willing to set aside the years, if not decades, such a thing would require, there is still the Prime Directive to consider.”

Seven was very glad he had said that. That glint in her partner’s eyes had made her very nervous. She had no doubt Janeway could accomplish reorganizing an entire sector given enough time, but it was also possible that Kathryn was capable of biting off more than even she could chew.

“Seven?” Janeway said, her voice quiet.

Seven realized she had been drifting and refocused immediately. It surprised her that Janeway would ask, knowing that they could have spoken about it later. In the beginning of their relationship, Janeway had assumed that Seven would just automatically support her in whatever she presented, and had been both hurt and profoundly shocked when Seven continued to present her brutally honest opinion, regardless of what the captain had said. Since Seven did not like contradicting her partner in public, she had eventually learned to keep her own counsel in staff meetings. If Kathryn was asking now, it was because she had no real opinion on it herself; she was just feeling frustrated and angry about seeing that debris field.

Seven took a breath. “Attempting to seek out and engage these nomads, or attempting to protect others from them, are tactically unsound positions. We lack the capability to ‘patrol’ this area of space, nor are we the legal authorities who have the right to do so.”

“What if we can find an opportunity for dialogue with them,” the Doctor insisted.

“Opportunities should always be exploited, but we also have our primary mission. What would Starfleet expect of us if this was the Alpha Quadrant?”

That was keenly felt by the captain, Seven realized, and she saw Janeway flinch, though it was so slight as to be practically undetected by any one who did not know every millimeter of that face intimately.

“Unless the local population of worlds unite, and request our assistance in dealing with the pirates,” the captain noted slowly. “We can do no more than protect ourselves.” Her eyes met Seven’s squarely. “Thank you for reminding me of our duty while here in the Delta Quadrant.”

Seven wasn’t exactly sure how the captain meant that comment, but since Janeway’s eyes were soft yet regretful, she understood she wasn’t angered with Seven for stating the obvious. Janeway sat up and looked at the rest somberly.

“But protecting ourselves is becoming a progressively difficult task. The nomads are increasing in their attacks, and it appears as if they’re becoming better prepared, both offensively and defensively, almost as if they’re being organized in some manner.”

“Maybe they are,” Lt. Kim said. “We just need more information.”

Paris nodded. “Harry’s right. Maybe we should … I don’t know, infiltrate them or something.”

The Doctor regarded the helmsman sardonically. “What, mock up the Delta Flyer as a pirate ship, dress up in eye patches and pretend to be pirates?”

“That might work,” Chakotay said, unexpectantly supporting Voyager’s helmsman. “Would there be a way for some of us to do just that? Pretend to be nomads and find out if there is something larger behind this?”

Seven saw the captain eye him speculatively, and she felt her heart twinge. She certainly hoped Janeway was not about to participate in such an exercise, though she could tell the captain was already picturing herself in such a role. She frowned at her partner, and some of her antipathy to the idea must have translated in her gaze because Janeway glanced at her, looked briefly startled, and then grinned somewhat sheepishly.

“It’s something to consider,” the captain allowed. She looked at her first officer. “Come up with some possible scenarios. Have Tom help you, this seems right up his alley. In the meantime, lets all of us stay alert. We have no idea where the pirates will strike next.”

She favored them all with a parting glance, then nodded stiffly.

“Dismissed.”

Seven wanted to linger and speak with Janeway, but the Doctor claimed her by offering to escort her to sickbay. She decided that she would just have to discuss it with Kathryn later.

She had to make sure that the other woman had no intention of ‘playing pirate’.

1500 Hours

Janeway sat quietly in the conference room after the staff meeting had ended, going over the ideas that had been tossed out. She was intrigued by the concept of infiltrating the nomads, and wondered how she would look in an eye patch. Of course, she recognized immediately that Seven would object strongly at her doing anything so rash, or at the very least, would insist on going along to watch out for her. Janeway did not think Seven would make a particularly convincing pirate. Or worse, she might make such an efficient one, they’d never interest her in acting merely like a Starfleet officer again.

She sighed ruefully and leaned back in the chair, her mind wandering to her partner and how much she adored her. When her memories had returned with her recent illness, she had originally been afraid that it was a temporary thing, a cure which would disappear when she regained her full health, but that had not happened. She still had all her memories in full, still remembered everything that had happened over the past three years. Yet, she remained uneasy, hesitant about sharing the news with Seven. She wasn’t sure why exactly, but knew she eventually had to, for no other reason than her partner deserved her total honesty about the things that affected her, and by extension, Seven herself.

She raised her head. “Computer, locate Seven of Nine.”

“Seven of Nine is in sickbay.”

Janeway frowned, wondering what the young woman was doing there. Aware that it was probably nothing major, she still decided to make a pass by on her way home, now that the alpha shift had finished and beta shift had come on.

She picked up her padd and strode out into the bridge, nodding at Tuvok who was supervising the new rotation as she made her way to the turbolift. There, she requested the deck containing sickbay, and wondered if Seven would be interested in something a little different for their regularly scheduled workout. It was something she had been considering for a while, and she decided as she entered the medical center that today was as good a time as any to try it. She raised her eyebrow as she saw that Seven was standing by a console, the Doctor running a medical scanner over her.

The young woman’s pale eyes lightened even more as she saw her partner, and Janeway smiled warmly at her, but because they were in a public area of the ship, the Borg’s greeting was formal. “Captain.”

“Seven.” Janeway returned the formality. It occured to her, that she and Seven were only now figuring out the proper dynamics of their relationship on a professional level since their recent marriage. She quirked an eyebrow at the Doctor. “Is something wrong?”

He shook his head, studying the screen. “Just routine implant maintenance, Captain.” He flicked off his scanner and looked up at them. “Everything’s fine, Seven, but if you and the captain have a moment, I’d like to speak to you both about the genetic material you have ‘on ice’. I’ve come up with an idea you might want to consider. Is now convenient for you both?”

Janeway and Seven exchanged a baffled glance, then the Borg looked at the hologram. “I am no longer on duty. Once the appointment ended, I am considered logged off.”

Janeway nodded. “Shall we use your office?”

The Doctor led the way into the room where the CMO’s desk and personal work station was kept. As they entered, Sek, the medical assistant who was working there, shared a glance with him, murmured greetings to the other women, and headed for the bio-lab. Obviously, she knew what this was about, and it had to be something important enough that the other hologram should not be privy to the discussion. Janeway watched her go with a speculative expression as she and Seven sat down in the low backed chairs facing the desk where the Doctor made himself comfortable.

Janeway eyed him. “What’s this about?”

He folded his hands on the desk and regarded Seven keenly. “I’ve been studying the records of some of the greatest reproductive specialists in Earth history, and I believe I’ve come up with a way to restore your missing organs, utilizing the material Annika Hansen left during her recent visit.”

That hit the captain like a bomb, and she felt her breath catch. It also seemed to floor the young woman beside her and Janeway glanced at her, seeing the way Seven’s face paled perceptively.

“Indeed,” Seven managed finally.

“It’s definitely an option.” He smiled with satisfaction, as well he should. He knew how much Seven wanted children, and the Collective’s removal of her reproductive organs had meant the young woman would never realize the dream of bearing them. Recently, her counterpart from another universe had entered this one and left the ‘gift’ of her ovum for the Borg. Its existence meant Seven could provide genetic material for offspring that was hers down to the smallest genetic strand. Apparently, the gift held even greater potential than any of the women had anticipated.

“This is wonderful,” Janeway said with genuine enthusiasm. “What would such an operation entail?”

“I would clone organs from the medical data base templates, using the ova genetic strands to grow the actual tissue. Then attempt to transplant them into Seven. The risk of rejection seems very small, thanks to the fact that it would essentially be her DNA that would be used.”

Janeway was thrilled for her partner. She knew how devastated the young woman had been when she had been told she could not have children. This must seem like her dreams had all been restored.

“How soon could such a thing be implemented?”

“It would take a few weeks to grow the organs,” the Doctor said. “The operation itself should only take a few hours, and assuming no complications, Seven would be back on her feet in a day or so.”

Janeway shook her head at the wonder of it. “We are so grateful to you, Doctor.”

He did not blush … emergency holograms were not capable of it perhaps … but he was obviously pleased.

“No.”

Startled, Janeway looked at her partner. “Seven?”

The Borg looked almost upset, and the captain reached over, taking her hand.

“I cannot do this,” Seven said, her eyes bleak.

The Doctor frowned. “Seven, I assure you, the operation is perfectly safe, baring complications. I don’t forsee there being any.”

Seven’s gaze was troubled when she looked at the captain and Janeway squeezed her hand. “What is it?”

“Kathryn, I shall always require nanoprobes to regulate my implants,” Seven told her in a sorrowful tone. “And in turn, shall always require a cortical implant to moderate my nanoprobes.”

“That’s true,” the Doctor said, then his face darkened. “Oh, Seven. I’m sorry, that never occurred to me. I was so happy to have discovered this…” He took a breath and looked at Janeway shamefully. “This is my fault, Captain. I didn’t take into account all the consequences.”

Janeway looked back and forth between him and her partner. Obviously they both understood what the other was talking about, and judging from their expressions, it wasn’t good. “Will someone tell me what those consequences are?”

“Captain, any offspring that Seven bore would, by virtue of the process, have nanoprobes as part of their physical development from the time they are conceived,” the Doctor explained. “I don’t even know what that would mean with regards to how the fetus would develop, but it is probable that such nanoprobes incorporated into a lifeform by that method could not be rendered dormant and removed from the body. At the very least, the baby would require a cortical implant be installed to moderate the nanoprobes in order to prevent what happened to you from occurring within him or her.”

Janeway inhaled slowly, absorbing this. She glanced over at Seven who was regarding her anxiously.

“I could not do that to our offspring, Kathryn,” she said softly. “It would be wrong.”

Janeway nodded. “Of course, you can’t, Annika,. You’re right. I’m sorry if this has hurt you. It should have been good news.”

“It was good news.” Seven looked back at the Doctor, and offered a tremulous smile. “I appreciate that you were thinking of my happiness. It means a great deal to me.”

“I’m sorry I was so hasty, Seven,” he said with genuine remorse.

She reached over and touched his hand fleetingly. “I am still grateful to you.”

He looked at her, then nodded briefly.

Janeway took a breath. “In the meantime, that leads us to something else I wanted to address.” Intrigued, the other two looked at her and she squeezed Seven’s hand again. “I know that I must be acquiring nanoprobes from Seven during our … more intimate moments. Does that mean I’m full of them again?” She adored her partner, but the thought of more nanoprobes infecting her body after the last incident chilled her.

The Doctor blinked. “Of course not.”

“Why not?”

“Because, they’re keyed to her DNA. Unless she injects you with specific assimilation nanoprobes, which I certainly hope she’s not doing…” He paused and looked at them, obviously considering that a possibility as if it were some form of kinky sexual technique the couple indulged in.

“I am not,” Seven said frostily.

He spread his hands. “Then they’d just go dormant. Otherwise, Seven wouldn’t be able to walk around the ship without assimilating everything. She sheds nanoprobes along with her flakes of skin, just as we all do. If they remained active after leaving her body without being programmed to do so, we’d all know it by now. I can assure you, they do not.”

Janeway nodded, trying not to show her relief. She didn’t want to hurt Seven by implying she was frightened of the microscopic cybernetic machines, but she could not deny how much she was glad to hear the Doctor’s words.

Seven tightened her grip on the captain’s hand reassuringly, almost as if she knew what Janeway was thinking.

“Then I want you to harvest some eggs from my ovaries as well.”

She realized she had startled them, and she took a breath, raising her chin.

“Why?” Seven was staring at her.

“Because if anything should happen to me, you would still have … options,” Janeway said, very carefully not looking at her spouse. “You could still have our children regardless of what methods it would require.”

The Doctor blinked, an expression of dismay on his face as if aware the discussion had just moved into someplace he shouldn’t be. He cleared his throat uncomfortably, and stood up, clearly assuming they would likely require some privacy at the moment.

“Of course, Captain,” he said, motioning awkwardly at sickbay, visible through the transparency. “I just have to retrieve the necessary equipment. It is a fairly simple procedure and shouldn’t take too long.”

He quickly made himself absent and Janeway felt Seven’s eyes boring into her.

“I believed you said that you would respect my choices,” Seven said softly.

“I do, my darling. I always will. That doesn’t mean I’m not going to stack the deck on my side as much as I can. Have you ever known me not to?” She dared to glance over at her partner, trying to judge her reaction

Seven considered that. “No, you will always attempt to fight for life … even when you are dead.” She stared at Janeway a few seconds longer, then abruptly reached over and pulled the captain close, kissing her. “You … are the most incorrigible being I have ever met.”

A bit flustered, Janeway returned the kiss quickly, then composed herself as the Doctor returned with a medical probe. She tried not to feel to triumphant as she began to shrug out of her uniform, hoping that this contribution from her would be the deciding factor to allow Seven to choose life rather than death should anything happen to the captain.

Granting them both a peace about the possible future, a peace which had been eluding them for some time.

1600 Hours

Jake limped out of the turbolift, testing the air with relief. It had taken him quite some time before he had finally worked his way back to the deck containing his lair, and he slunk despondently down the corridor to his door. With an effort, he jumped up and activated the door, entering his home wearily. Unfortunately, neither of his mistresses were home nor had been for a while judging from the scent, and disappointed, he drifted over to the corner where his belongings were kept.

He nosed his box of toys, lacking even the enthusiasm to pull out his favorite … the rubbery thing shaped like a pork chop which squeaked when he bit it … before sniffing apathetically at his doggy dish. He took a few mouthfuls of food, but he was still stuffed from his mooching outside the mess hall and he really wasn’t that hungry. His ribs continued to ache from his run-in with the containers, and he whined, flopping onto his doggy bed where he bit fretfully at his leg. The wound still stung from where the creature’s tentacle had wrapped around it. Depressed, he licked at the burn, wincing at the taste, and then finally, with a long drawn out groan, he plopped his head onto his paws, his soft brown eyes moist.

He wished his people would come home since he was in dire need of some affection, though he suspected that they would be very upset about the mess he had made in cargo bay two. He heaved a sigh. Seven would look at him with those frosty cool eyes while the captain’s face would go all stern and hard, making him feel like crawling across the floor on his belly. Then they would scold him in tones designed to make him whimper, and any spontaneous affection would be rare for the next few days while the discipline in their commands would increase.

Perhaps it would be better if they didn’t come home for a while, just so he could prepare himself or better yet, forget this day had ever happened.

Depressing really, since it had started off so promisingly.

1700 Hours

“Do you think I made the right decision?”

Seven had startled Janeway, and the young woman clarified.

“For not wanting to undergo the operation, I mean.”

Janeway moved closer as they walked through the corridors, putting her hand on the small of Seven’s back, the Borg feeling the heat of it penetrate to her bones.

“You were absolutely correct, Seven. We can’t risk infecting our offspring with unregulated nanoprobes.” She looked at her in obvious puzzlement. “Why are you second guessing yourself now?”

Seven sighed. “I do not know. The past few months have been … confusing. It has been my dream to have children, yet when I have the opportunity to do so, I refuse it.”

“Darling, it just means you’re doing what’s best for them and for you.” Janeway slipped a comforting arm around the Borg’s waist and squeezing her tenderly. The corridor was quite empty of traffic at the moment, and apparently Janeway decided it was alright for an affectionate gesture. “You’ve just learnt the number one rule for having children; that their needs must take precedent. If you’re not prepared to do that, then having offspring should never be considered.”

“Even if it means that you still have to become pregnant?” Seven asked, resting her hand on Janeway’s shoulders as they walked. “I know you seem … reluctant to go through that.”

Janeway studied her a few moments, then smiled oddly. “Do you remember how you pretended not to like having Jake around in the beginning, even when you absolutely adored him?”

“I did not appreciate suddenly acquiring a puppy,” Seven insisted stubbornly.

“Sure you didn’t,” Janeway said in a tone that let the Borg know she did not believe her for a second. “That’s how I am when I talk about becoming pregnant.”

Seven considered that. “Is this a matter of ‘protesting too much’?”

Janeway nodded. “Something like that.”

Seven looked around, noting that no one was in sight and leaned over, stealing a kiss from the captain. “I believe I understand now. Thank you, Kathryn.”

Janeway shot her a grin and released the hug as they reached the holodeck. The panel readouts noted that it was unoccupied, and Seven realized they were a bit late for their scheduled time. She watched as Janeway touched the control pad, programming in their holo-simulation, and Seven was intrigued to see that it was different than any she had seen before, something called Burley’s. They could not play Velocity until Janeway had built herself up a bit more physically, but this scenario was certainly not the beach simulation where they had been swimming for their recreational time.

Seven raised an eyebrow as they entered, looking around at the dimly illuminated room, the low bar that ran along one wall where a bartender polished a glass disinterestedly. It reminded Seven greatly of the ancient Earth World War II simulation of the French bistro where she had been a lounge singer, and the captain had been the owner named Katrine. Seven remembered the white tux the captain had worn then with great fondness, though the rest of the scenario was actually a plot devised by a group of hostile aliens known as Hirogen. This reconstruction of the nightclub was somewhat different. In the WWII program, the piano had dominated the bar, but here, a couple of low rectangular tables took up a good part of the room. They had green felt surfaces that contained depressions at the four corners and sides, and there were no chairs surrounding them, precluding the possibility of being dining tables of some sort.

Janeway ignored the bartender and immediately went over to one of the tables, pulling out items from a compartment beneath it. There was a black triangle made of a hard plastic material and several brightly colored balls, which she arranged on the emerald surface. Then she went over to a rack on the wall containing long wooden sticks where, after much consideration where she examined each one intently, she finally chose two of them.

Seven, who had been watching with great interest, finally surrendered to her curiosity. “What are you doing? What is this place?”

Janeway flashed her a smile, showing her dimples in a way that made Seven somewhat nervous.

“I thought we’d try something new tonight.” The captain handed the Borg one of the sticks. “Burley’s is a tavern in San Francisco where I used to spend my off duty time. This piece of wood is called a cue. I’m going to teach you how to play pool.”

“‘Pool’,” Seven repeated with confusion. “I see no water.”

“Not that kind of pool,” Janeway said patiently. “This is a game of skill and percision. Not that physically challenging, but it’s certainly a mental exercise.”

Seven paused. “Why?”

“Because it’s fun. Trust me.”

Seven took a breath. Sometimes when Janeway said ‘trust me’ in that particular tone of voice, it actually meant that Seven should not trust what was about to happen at all. Still, she didn’t think that Janeway was about to do anything particularly unpleasant, not like the time she convinced the Borg to try something called ‘escargots’ only to discover later what they actually were.

She examined the stick in her hands, noting how it was tapered at one end, tipped with a rubbery material, while the rounded wood was lacquered, with simplistic designs encircling it. She thought it might make a fairly decent weapon in a pinch, though she wasn’t sure why that had popped into her head. Too much exposure to B’Elanna, no doubt. She glanced over at the table, and saw that Janeway had removed the triangle carefully, leaving the balls pressed together in the same geometric shape. The captain then placed another ball, a solid white one, at the other end of the table. Seven tilted her head as Janeway used the stick, her ‘cue’, to poke at the white ball firmly, sending it careening into the other balls that split apart from their neat pattern, and scattered over the table. Three of the balls disappeared, falling into the depressions with significantly loud thuds, and Seven heard their progression somewhere inside the table until they abruptly reappeared in a cavity at the end.

Seven raised an eyebrow. Apparently, this was quite a noisy sort of game.

“That was called the ‘break’,” Janeway explained. Using the end of her stick to point out the various balls, she continued. “You’ll note that there are two types of balls, striped and solid. Two solids dropped into the pockets and one striped. That means that I have my choice of which group of balls I have to pocket. My opponent plays with the other group.”

“The purpose of this?” Seven asked, eyeing the table.

“The winner is the one who manages to pocket all their balls first,” Janeway said. “At this point, I will continue to shoot until all my balls are gone, or until I miss a shot. The solid black ball is called the Eight Ball, and is saved until the final shot. If I pocket that accidentally before then, I lose. The white ball is the one I use to knock the other balls in. If I pocket it, it becomes your turn, even if I managed to pocket the ball I said I would.” The captain eyed her. “Any questions?”

“Why are you allowed to go first? It seems that you have an unfair advantage.”

“This is just for practice,” Janeway said, nudging Seven in the stomach with her thumb as she passed. “Don’t be so competitive.”

“I am competitive?” Seven could hardly believe that such a statement had just come out of her partner’s mouth, requiring an effort not to roll her eyes.

“Just pay attention,” Janeway said, bending over fetchingly as she aimed the tapered end of the cue at the white ball. “Three ball in the right corner pocket.”

Seven watched and listened closely as Janeway proceeded to clear the table, calling her shots and providing Seven with little pointers, such as noting the position of where the cue tip struck the ball. The captain went on to explain how that imparted spin, as well as how the balls rebounded off the side cushions, and the angle with which they would drop properly into the holes. She finished off with a flourish, banking the eight ball off three sides, and Seven realized that Janeway could be considered a very good practicioner of this ‘pool’.

“Now I understand why you like this game,” Seven said dryly when Janeway straightened, looking at her. “Your opponent does not even have the opportunity to play while you acquire your victory.”

Janeway grinned unrepentantly at her and set up again. “It’s not just one game, Seven, it’s so many games per match. Now it’s your turn. Come here and I’ll show you how to shoot.”

She moved Seven over to the head of the table, and wrapped her arms around her, showing her how to position the cue. The captain’s hands were warm as she covered Seven’s, arranging her fingers properly so that the cue would ride smoothly between them, and the Borg was acutely aware of Janeway pressing tightly against her from behind, how her breasts pushed against her back, and the way the captain’s groin ground provocatively against her buttocks.

She suddenly began to acquire an appreciation for the game.

“Now, just shoot the white ball hard,” Janeway said softly in her ear, releasing her hands though she remained close behind Seven. “Try to scatter the other balls as much as possible.”

“Is it required that your hand be on my gluteus maximus during this?” Seven noted curiously, glancing over her shoulder at the crooked grin that appeared on her partner’s face.

“No, that’s just so I have something to do while you’re shooting, darling,” Janeway said in a low voice as she squeezed the body part in question. “Do you object?”

Seven lifted a brow. “I was merely curious.”

She concentrated and took her shot, pleased when she saw the balls spread across the surface. A striped red ball dropped into the corner pocket, and she inhaled with satisfaction.

“I may shoot again?”

“Yes, but only the striped balls,” Janeway said, and gave her partner a fond pat before releasing her to move around the table.

Seven straightened and studied the surface, memorizing the positioning of each ball. It seemed a fairly simple game of mathematical angles and precision, which of course, was right up her alley. In no time at all, she had cleared the table, pocketing the eight ball with a gentle tap of her cue. Then she looked up at the captain, taking in the expression of Janeway’s face, and was forced to swallow her smile. She did tuck the moment away in her eidetic memory, because she knew she would always cherish that expression. It was absolutely priceless.

“You’ve played this before,” Janeway said, her jaw twitching.

“Not at all.” Seven shrugged minutely. “The game is merely a matter of angles, and the mathematical assessment of the spin of the ball. There is no need to shoot quickly, unlike Velocity, so each factor can be considered precisely. It seems a fairly uncomplicated exercise.”

Janeway smiled and it was not a pleasant smile, more a show of teeth than anything else, and Seven knew she had piqued her partner’s pride.

“Okay,” the captain said in a dangerous voice. “Now we will play for real.”

Seven took a breath and stepped back as Janeway racked them up again, this time doing the break herself. But Seven’s prowess had apparently rattled the captain a bit, and no balls fell into the pockets. The Borg made the mistake of smiling faintly, and the competition was on; her precision against Janeway’s experience and skill. Then Janeway began cheating, or at least, Seven was sure it was not entirely legal, since the series of pointed comments and strategic moves were obviously intended to distract the Borg every time she attempted a shot. Seven only fell for the them occasionally, but they were costly errors.

The throat clearing at a crucial moment lost her a game when she missed an easy shot, granting Janeway the opportunity to clear the table. Then, there was the casual brush along the inside of her thigh by the captain passing behind her as she attempted a particularly difficult combination that sent the eight ball into the side pocket for an immediate loss. But when the captain became serious, taking off her tunic and sweater, leaving her only in a thin, sleeveless undershirt, Seven knew she was in trouble. As she went to make the winning shot, Janeway leaned over the table directly above the intended pocket, her cleavage in clear view of Seven, and the white ball missed the eight ball entirely, caroming off the table and landing on the wooden floor with a very loud thud.

The captain laughed uproariously at that point, and Seven decided that this was a game where she should not take notice of her opponent at all. What was most aggravating was when Seven tried to counter with her own moves, the captain ignored her completely. Seven even resorted to coming up behind the captain and covering the small breasts through the tank top with her hands. Janeway coolly made her shot … the eight ball in the corner pocket … then turned around and kissed Seven so hard the Borg thought she might collapse.

“I do not understand,” Seven noted when she had finally caught her breath. “Surely these attempts at distraction are illegal.”

“Of course they are, darling,” Janeway murmured, snuggling up to her. “I was only having fun. In a real game, it’s bad form to try things like this. It really does come down to skill and mental endurance.”

Seven frowned. “I do not even wish to know how and where you learned to ignore my last tactic.”

Janeway laughed a throaty, husky chuckle. “I’m just very focused when I play pool.” She regarded her partner speculatively. “You know, you really are a remarkable player.”

“Thank you,” Seven replied, honestly pleased.

“There must be a way to use that,” the captain said thoughtfully.

Seven tilted her head. “‘Use’ it?”

The crooked smile returned, and Seven felt a little nervous again.

“We’ll have to get someone like Tom Paris or Ensign Hicks into a game, let them think they’re hustling you, then add up the replicator rations. Those two always have a hoard of slips from all the illicit betting they have going on in the lower decks. They’re just ripe for the plucking.”

Seven blinked. “For what purpose?”

Janeway arched a brow and squeezed Seven’s waist tightly.

“Momma needs a new pool cue, babe,” she murmured, sliding against her wantonly. “Will you help me scam one out of ‘em?”

Seven considered it, trying to work her way through the slang which was very uncharacteristic of the captain. Perhaps this ‘pool’ had other requirements … like learning a new language.

“I will help you do anything you want,” she said finally, then paused. “Except be a pirate.”

Janeway kissed her sweetly.

“We can talk about the pirate thing, later.”

1800 Hours

Janeway sobered abruptly as she noticed Jake did not get up from his doggy bed to greet them. Since the couple was obviously in a good mood, the captain laughing as they entered, this was definitely abnormal. The only time Jake hesitated was when one of them was unhappy, the pup sensing it and apparently knowing that a boisterous greeting would not be appreciated. On this occasion, however, he merely slumped in his bed, and whimpered quietly.

“Is something wrong?” Seven asked from behind her as Janeway knelt next to the dog.

“I don’t know,” Janeway muttered, noting the mark on the animal’s foreleg. She reached down and gently touched it, the dog whining pathetically as she examined it. “Pass me a tricorder, please.”

Seven took a few steps over to the nearest work station, and fished a tricorder from the compartment, handing it to the captain who scanned the wound. The Borg looked at the readings from over Janeway’s shoulder, her hand resting lightly on the back of the other woman’s neck.

“It appears to be an acidic burn,” Seven noted worriedly.

“But from what?” Janeway asked with equal concern. While she went in the bedroom and fetched the dermal regenerator, Seven took the tricorder and began to scan the quarters. The captain returned, and used the medical device to repair the wound as Jake rolled his eyes at her gratefully, licking her hands.

“I am detecting nothing,” Seven noted with a frown as she went from one end of their living space to the other. “There are no residual traces of either an acidic compound, or an energy discharge.”

“It’s almost as if something was wrapped around his leg, though I don’t know how that would have happened, or how he would have managed to free himself of it.” Janeway patted the pup gently. He got up and pushed his head into her lap, under the captain’s arm, hiding his eyes. That was something he did, only when he had done something wrong and wanted his mistresses to forgive him. Janeway glanced up at Seven who was observing this narrowly.

“I will check our quarters again,” the Borg said coolly. “Perhaps I missed some hidden damage.”

Janeway felt her lips twitched. “I guess you’d better.” She drew out Jake’s head, cupping it in her hands as she looked down at her pet. “What have you been up to, dog?” she murmured, studying his face as if she could read his mind.

He whined, and pushed his head back under her arm.

“That bad, huh?”

“Nothing,” Seven said, returning from the bedroom. “I see nothing out of place. Even his toys are all still gathered up in his box.”

“Did anyone have him out today?” Janeway asked, releasing the dog and standing up.

Seven touched her work consol, checking the schedule of the crewmembers who had volunteered to take Jake out for a run every day, as well as play with him.

“Ensign Lian has today, but she made a notation that she was unable to due to her exchanging duty shifts with another, so she had Lt. D’Vor replace her.”

“Maybe he knows,” Janeway said, touching her comm badge. “Janeway to D’Vor.”

“D’Vor here, Captain,” the young man from security replied.

“Did you notice anything odd about Jake when you took him out today?”

“I didn’t take him out, Captain,” he responded, obviously puzzled. “I stopped by, but he wasn’t in your quarters. Of course, I didn’t actually go into the quarters to look for him, but he’s usually waiting at the door, and when he didn’t come when I called, I assumed Ensign Lian had changed her mind and taken him instead.”

Janeway blinked, startled. “Very well, Lieutenant. Carry on.”

She glanced at Seven who raised an eyebrow, clearly as baffled as she was. The captain touched her badge. “Janeway to Lian.”

“Lian here, Captain.”

“Did you take Jake out today?”

“No, Captain, I swapped with Lt. D’Vor. Is something wrong?”

“Not at all. Thank you, Ensign.”

“This is … unusual,” Seven noted as the captain cut the channel.

“It is.” Janeway stared down at the pup who had crept back onto his cushion. She inhaled slowly. “Perhaps that’s why he’s acting as if he had done something wrong. He didn’t go to D’Vor when he called.”

Seven looked unconvinced. “I find that unlikely. He enjoys going out very much.”

The Borg turned back to her work console and tapped into the personal log files. Though every area of the ship had sensors that could monitor them for security purposes, only the people living there, or the ship’s chief of security with the captain’s personal authorization could activate or replay the logs in crew quarters. Seven had developed the habit of having the sensor recorders come on whenever Jake moved about, using them to study his behavior while the couple wasn’t there in order to facilitate her training of him. Apparently, she had not ceased that practice, though Janeway knew it had been some time since her partner had felt the need to access the monitoring system.

Seven began at the chronological sequence when she left the quarters early in the morning, knowing that Jake had been perfectly all right then. It did not take long after the day’s log began for the couple to discover Jake’s newest trick.

“Oh god,” Janeway said, watching as the small viewscreen clearly showed Jake activating the door, and leaving the quarters. “When did he learn that? And how long has he been doing it?”

“Unknown,” Seven said grimly, shooting their pet a disapproving look. Jake curled up in a ball, tucking his head under his paw. “It is clearly a practiced maneuver. He did not hesitate either in activating the beam, or in leaving the quarters. He did not look around for us … in fact, he waited until I left.”

“Clever dog,” Janeway said without enthusiasm. “When did he get back?”

They were appalled to discover that Jake had not returned to the quarters until an hour or so before they had.

“Where the hell was he all day? And why didn’t anyone inform us he was out?”

“Perhaps they assumed you had given him the run of the ship,” Seven suggested. “You have familiarized him with all of it on your walks.”

“Possibly.” Janeway shot a look at her partner. “We’re going to have to put a stop to this.”

“Immediately,” Seven agreed and went over to the door panel, keying in a host of commands to prevent Jake from activating the door in the future. She had barely finished when the door chime sounded, startling her. She glanced at Janeway who shrugged, indicating she had no idea who might be visiting, and raising an eyebrow, the Borg answered it.

It was Lt. Commander Tuvok, and beside him, Harry Kim who seemed considerably agitated.

“Captain, I’m sorry to disturb you, but there is a small matter of breaking and entering that has been brought to my attention,” the security chief said with Vulcan aplomb. He looked significantly at the dog who had raised his head uneasily at all this sudden attention. “I believe you are harboring the suspect.”

“Your dog wrecked my quarters,” Harry blurted, clearly flustered and upset.

Seven tilted her head as Janeway winced. Jake rose from his cushion and skittered into the bedroom, undoubtedly to cower under the bed where it would take considerable effort to coax him out.

“How do you know it was Jake?” Seven asked, very protective of her pet. “Even if he was in your quarters, Jake is a very careful animal. Why would he damage anything?”

“He was chasing Libby,” Kim responded darkly. “I found their tracks in the sand they upended. My entire soil collection was spread all over the room.”

Seven lifted her head, apparently satisfied with this. She glanced at Janeway, obviously requiring the captain’s assistance with this one.

“‘Libby’?” Janeway muttered in an aside to her partner.

“The B’Rethna belonging to B’Elanna,” Seven murmured out of the corner of her mouth. “Jake would no doubt find it … irresistible.”

“How did … never mind,” Janeway said, deciding she didn’t need to know how Harry Kim had ended up with the chief engineer’s pet. She pasted a smile on her face, and regarded the lieutenant with what she hoped was a comforting expression. “Lieutenant, I’m sure we can replace anything that Jake may have inadvertently knocked over.”

“Knocked over! Captain, he completely destroyed the place!”

Tuvok raised an eyebrow. “I am afraid, Captain, that Mr. Kim has not overstated the situation. The damage is extensive.” Janeway resisted a sigh, realizing that Tuvok would not exaggerate the problem in any fashion. Clearly, Jake had been a very bad dog.

Janeway straightened her shoulders. “Very well, Mr. Kim, I will authorize the necessary replicator rations for you to make the required repairs.”

She knew the excess would have to come out of her and Seven’s future allotment of slips, just so it would appear fair to the rest of the crew. It seemed that not only would she not be getting a new pool cue in the near future, she’d be lucky to have enough to keep herself clothed in a fresh uniform every day. The rose would have to go, of course. She wondered bleakly how many slips Seven had squirreled away.

“But Mr. Kim, you must also take responsibility for your own animal in this,” she added pointedly. “Jake was not solely responsible for all the damage.”

“Oh I have,” he said forbiddingly. Her eyes widened uncertainly, and he shook his head, apparently reading the concern that was in her expression.. “Not that way, captain. I gave it back to B’Elanna. Let it wreck her quarters for a change … not that anyone could tell the difference.”

Janeway smiled weakly. “I’ll authorize your request to stores immediately.”

“Thank you,” Kim said, and nodded politely before making his exit.

Tuvok regarded Janeway evenly. “I am afraid … ‘Jake’ … did not limit his destruction to Mr. Kim’s quarters, Captain. There was also a barrel of Mr. Neelix’s serathne fluid overturned in cargo bay two. The dog’s tracks clearly showed up in the residue spread over the deck.”

Janeway rubbed her forehead fretfully. “Anything else?”

“No.” He paused, tilting his head slightly. “At least, not anything that has been reported so far.”

Janeway cringed, though she attempted not to show it. “Let me know if there’s anything further.”

“I will, Captain.” He added with practiced Vulcan innocence. “Shall I be escorting ‘Jake’ to the brig?”

Janeway glared at him. Vulcans were reputed to have no sense of humor of course, but she knew better, especially with him. Though Tuvok’s was so dry as to be likened to a desert, it was undeniably there, and she did not really appreciate it at the moment.

“That will be all,” she said frostily.

He inclined his head while raising a significant eyebrow … as good as a smirk from anyone else … and left. Janeway exhaled and turned to her partner who was standing with her arms crossed over her chest, regarding her expectantly.

“I don’t suppose you have any extra ration slips lying around,” the captain asked her hopefully. “We may need them.”

Seven looked pained. “Thirty-five. I was accumulating them in order to replicate presents for upcoming birthdays.”

Janeway offered a commiserating look. “I’m sorry darling, but this is the other side of the coin to owning a pet.”

“I understand,” Seven said, though she was clearly not happy about it. She glanced back at the bedroom. “It will do us no good to scold him. Unless we could associate the punishment with his actions, he would not understand why we were displeased.”

“I know, but he also knows he did something wrong. It wouldn’t hurt to be a little more explicit with our commands the next few days, particularly when he’s out on his walks. Any time he gets near the door, we’d have to call him on it so that he knows he can’t leave without one of us with him.”

“Agreed.” They regarded each other for a moment, and then flinched in tandem when the door chime sounded again.

“I shall answer it,” Seven said without enthusiasm.

It was Tom Paris, and while he did not enter, Janeway could clearly hear their conversation from where she was standing, obviously out the helmsman’s view.

“Hey, Seven, I just stopped by to see if you had a chance to speak with B’Elanna.”

“I did,” Seven said shortly, not wanting to prolong the conversation.

“What did she say?”

Seven hesitated, glancing back at the captain, and lowered her voice, though not enough.

“She seems … resistant to your approach, Mr. Paris.” Another pause before something compelled her … possibly her innate need for accuracy … to add a rejoinder. “Perhaps too much. She apparently continues to have very strong emotions where you are concerned.”

“Oh,” Tom responded, and decided to take that as a positive. “Great. Keep trying, Seven. Don’t give up now.”

“I … will not,” Seven said reluctantly.

“Thanks, Seven. I owe you really big.” To Seven’s obvious discomfort, and Janeway’s bemusement, he grabbed the Borg in a quick hug and disappeared.

Janeway raised an eyebrow as the young woman turned to her, having a great deal of trouble looking her directly in the eye.

“Seven of Nine,” the captain said silkily. “Is there something you wish to tell me?”

1900 Hours (Dusk)

Seven wished she was more skilled in the art of dissembling. She opened her mouth, profoundly relieved when what she was about to say was interrupted by another chime at the door. She raised her own eyebrow, and tried not to look too evasive.

“I shall answer that.”

“No,” Janeway said, dryly, “I’ll get it.”

The captain brushed past her, and Seven heaved a sigh that the moment of truth was forestalled … for a few minutes longer anyway. It might allow her to come up with a reasonable explanation.

Chakotay entered without being invited, pushing past the captain, and Seven saw an odd expression cross her partner’s face before she could hide it. Janeway seemed to inhale deeply, and then assumed a very insincere smile.

“Commander?”

“Kathryn, I just had to find out if you had spoken to B’Elanna.” He looked over at Seven and made a brief gesture of apology. “I’m sorry to intrude, but I just had to find out how the captain did. I’m sure she’s told you that she’s helping me ‘woo’ B’Elanna in order to get her back.”

“Indeed.” Seven managed a completely noncommittal tone. She looked at Janeway who shifted uncomfortably on her feet.

“I, ah, didn’t exactly get a chance to speak with Lt. Torres, so I don’t really have anything to report, Chakotay. It’s only the first day.”

“Of course. I’m sorry, I should have realized … I guess I’m just a little anxious. I’ll leave it to you. Have a good evening.”

When he left, Seven regarded Janeway evenly.

“Is there something you would care to tell me?”

Janeway looked very much like Jake had earlier in the evening. Seven wondered if she wanted to go hide under the bed as well.

“Not particularly.” The captain took a breath. “Perhaps we should just talk about something else this evening, and worry about it tomorrow?”

“Ah,” Seven said, considering it carefully. “That would probably be best.”

Janeway forced a smile. “So what’s for dinner?”

Seven held her gaze a little longer, and then inclined her head slightly. “I think, something familiar and favored. I believe this day requires a certain amount of ‘comfort food’ to complete it.”

“Oh darling, that’s a perfect assessment.” Janeway’s voice was quite sincere.

Seven went over to her kitchenette while Janeway assumed a position on the stool just on the other side of the counter. The Borg immediately pulled out a bottle of wine from the cooler and poured the captain a glass, thought about it, and poured herself one as well. They exchanged glances, and held up their glasses.

“It’s a Chinese curse that says; ‘May you live in interesting times’,” Janeway said dryly. “I think I understand why it’s a curse. To the future, and less interesting times.”

“To concerning ourselves more with our own relationship, and less with others.”

“Amen,” Janeway said, and clinked her glass soundly against her partners before taking a healthy swallow of the ruby liquid.

Seven tried not to smile and sipped at her own. Then, she put it down and proceeded to replicate the ingredients for a potato, beef and corn casserole. Dinner was spent discussing the theoretical application of quantum resonance waves on deflector emitters … a perfectly neutral topic for them both … and it wasn’t until they were clearing the table that Jake finally slunk out of the bedroom and sniffed listlessly at his supper that Seven had put down in his dish.

“He doesn’t seem hungry,” Janeway noted, regarding him with her arms across her chest.

“Perhaps he is still … sad.” Seven glanced at the pup. “Jake, come here.”

The Irish Setter slowly approached his mistress, not cringing exactly but certainly not anxious to hear what she had to say. Seven and Janeway exchanged looks, and the Borg saw the smile playing about the captain’s lips though she was trying hard not to show it.

Seven shook her head ruefully, and knelt by Jake, patting him. “You have acted inappropriately, Jake, but I know you cannot understand in what manner, only that we are displeased with you. That does not mean we do not care for you.”

“You realize that was probably so much gibberish to him, other than his name,” Janeway said dryly.

Seven frowned at her. “It is the tone that is important, not the content.” Indeed, the dog was looking considerably more cheerful, his tail even wagging briefly. The Borg looked at her partner. “You must also show that you still care for him.”

“What makes you think I do?” Janeway said wryly. “Losing those rations for the next while is going to hurt.”

“Kathryn.” Seven emphasized the name.

Janeway’s lips twitched and the crooked grin reappeared. “All right,” she surrendered, kneeling beside her partner and her pet, patting the dog, which was apparently all Jake needed to make his world complete once more, the tail now wagging so hard, his entire hindquarters were swaying. “But I don’t think he needs a playtime tonight.”

Seven agreed. “His day appeared to be quite full.” She felt Janeway’s eyes on her, and she glanced over, raising an eyebrow quizzically.

Janeway was staring at her with a very familiar look in her eyes, and she leaned against Seven, nudging her gently. “I think we could use some more playtime.” Her voice dropped into that husky trill. Obviously, she was more than ready to pick up where they had left off in the holodeck.

“Indeed,” Seven responded, feeling a thrill of anticipation shoot through her. “What did you have in mind? More pool?”

Janeway offered that elegant little leer she did so well. “More in keeping with practicing our ‘distractions’.”

Seven leaned closer and kissed Janeway sweetly, lingering on the soft lips. “That would be … acceptable.”

Janeway smiled and took Seven’s hand in hers as she stood up, drawing the Borg with her into the bedroom. The couple shut the door firmly behind them to prevent the dog from following, and stood next to the bed, kissing slowly and passionately as they undressed each other with relaxed and comfortable pleasure. Controlling their desire for the moment, they allowed it to simmer rather than flare into the incendiary need it could so easily become. Seven took the comm badge from Janeway’s tunic, placing it on the night stand before carefully removing each pip from the captain’s collar.

“Perhaps this should be my responsibility from now on,” she suggested as she let her mouth play over Janeway’s .

“It should be,” Janeway agreed readily, between the gentle touches of their lips. “Especially … if you’re going to …. remove my pips … this way.”

Seven smiled and kissed her again, deeper, pulling off the captain’s tunic completely.

Janeway returned the smile and slid her arms around Seven’s neck, unfastening the Borg’s outfit and pulling it down. They tossed the unwanted clothing on the lounger on the other side of the room, intending to recycle them later, and Janeway drew back the bedding, revealing fresh, Starfleet issued linens.

Seven crawled into the bed after her and pulled the smaller woman close to her, the entire length of her body touching Kathryn’s warmly, feeling as she always did that she had finally returned home in some undefinable, but quite unequivocal sense. Janeway pressed against her tightly, finding her lips with deep kisses, using her lips and tongue as if she were trying to absorb the young woman into her very soul.

“Lights up or down?” Kathryn murmured after a few moments.

“I enjoy looking at you,” Seven responded huskily. “They could be … more intimate, however.”

Janeway lifted her head. “Lights, one quarter.”

The computer obediently dimmed the room’s illumination to that of a low wattage bulb.

Janeway’s hands were light on the Borg’s skin, fingertips tracing over her shoulders, her neck, down the slope of chest then up over her arms again. Seven so adored these very gentle caresses, the way they trailed fire over her flesh, yet seemed barely in contact with her. She didn’t have the words to describe how being with Kathryn made her feel, only that there was no other place that she wanted or needed to be, could ever imagine being.

“Annika,” Kathryn muttered into her ear, nipping at the earlobe, flicking it with her tongue.

“Yes, Kathryn,” Seven whispered, arching as the wonderful hands moved over her breasts, tracing the pinkish nipples gently.

“I need to tell you something,” the captain said, nibbling at the Borg’s bottom lip.

“Can it … wait?” Seven found it hard to focus on what Janeway was talking about.

Janeway hesitated, then kissed Seven soundly. “Yes, it can. At least, until afterward.”

“I am glad.” Seven moaned involuntarily as the hands covered her breasts fully, squeezing gently. “Because it is … very hard … to concentrate … oh, Kathryn.”

“Mmm, my love,” Janeway breathed, kissing along the line of Seven’s throat, moving ever downward. “I adore you.” She covered the nearest nipple with her mouth, flicking it lightly with her tongue.

“I love you so much,” Seven murmured. She felt the drawing on her nipple, igniting the pleasure within her as she ran her hands lovingly over the captain’s scalp, delighting in the softness of the short hair, stroking her lover’s scalp. She never really knew what she said at times like this … only that the words came directly from her heart. “You are so beautiful … My Kathryn, I want you … I need you so much …”

“Tell me,” Janeway responded, between gentle tastes of her spouse’s warm, velvet soft flesh. “Tell me what you want, darling.”

“You,” Seven moaned. “I want you. Love me, Kathryn. Please love me.”

“Oh my darling, I do. With all my heart.”

Moving languidly over to Seven’s other breast, Janeway accorded it the same loving attention, the same tender worship. Then slowly, with familiar yet always enticing skill, she continued her delectable course down over the Borg’s stomach, nuzzling it. Seven gasped as Janeway nudged her legs apart, and she felt the warm breath move over her most intimate flesh.

“Kathryn,” Seven whispered, her head lolling on the pillow, helpless under the sensation of her lover’s touch. She waited with anticipation as Janeway paused, hovering over her. “Oh, Kathryn, please … do not tease me ….”

“Shh,” Janeway soothed softly, using her fingertips to part lips that were swollen, thick with moisture and desire. “No teasing, my love … not tonight …”

So gently, so delicately, so very tenderly, Janeway drew the tip of her tongue along Seven’s exquisitely sensitive bundle of nerves, barely touching it. It was far more powerful than if she had fallen upon it with a strong caress, and Seven cried out, the touch like a benediction granted her by this person she loved so much. She flexed her knees, bringing her legs against her, opening herself completely to her partner as her right hand stroked Kathryn’s head, her fingertips light on the wonderful cheekbones. Seven could hardly bear the sheer pleasure of it, the way Janeway lingered over her, drawing out the sensation with every slow, sweet contact. Her desire built with deep and steady strength as Janeway touched her, tasted her … loved her.

She felt Kathryn’s finger, so long, so gentle, pressing against her, and then into her, sliding easily in the wetness. Seven heard the sticky, provocative sounds of its entry that heightened her pleasure, and she moaned again, shuddering under its strong flexing so deep inside her. Then another touch, a smaller finger probing gently below that, the tantalizing touch that only Kathryn was allowed to do. Seven did not know why she found this so pleasurable, particularly since the captain did not share this appreciation, but she had come to understand how very intimate it was. Her lover was always so extremely careful with it, so very tender, never rushing no matter how passionate they both felt.

Then Janeway’s mouth, stronger now, her tongue stroking the throbbing flesh firmly, her lips pulling at it, and Seven could no longer think, could no longer reason, could no longer do anything but experience the waves of sensation, the absolute overwhelming physicalness of it. When Seven finally drifted back to herself, Janeway was moving upward, withdrawing, kissing the same trail to Seven’s face that she had traversed earlier.

Seven moaned into Janeway mouth, tasting her own essence on her lover’s lips, accepting the kiss that went on and on. She blinked back the tears that had filled her eyes. Janeway’s breathing was harsh, the captain fully aroused, and Seven pulled her close commandingly, her hands moving firmly over the captain, finding those places she knew so well. She often thought Kathryn was more responsive than her, more demanding, yet at the same time more receiving of the Borg’s caresses, loud and occasionally profane in her comments of what she was feeling, and what she wanted Seven to do next until she inevitably grew incoherent and guttural. Kathryn was rarely moved to tears when she climaxed, unlike Seven, but she seemed to experience it longer, harder and with a great deal more verbal appreciation. Then afterward, she would collapse soft and limp in Seven’s arms, so completely unresisting, surrendering utterly to the echoing after shocks, and cuddling close to the Borg as if needing her partner to protect her from the universe until she had found herself again, something the young woman was only too glad to do.

They clung together in the twisted sheets, finding a cozy spot in the exact center of the bed, entangled in unified sharing, close, warm, infinitely safe and secure. Janeway sighed quietly, nuzzling into Seven’s throat, snuggling as near as she could even as Seven held her tightly.

“You’re so wonderful,” Kathryn murmured. “I love you, darling.”

“I love you,” Seven whispered, her eyes closed. At moments like these, the emotion was so strong within her that tears of love and happiness lay just below the surface, her chest full and almost aching from the sheer joy of this. She swallowed against the lump in her throat and took a deep breath. “What did you wish to tell me?”

“Hmm?” Janeway responded sleepily.

“You wanted to tell me something,” Seven reminded her quietly.

“Umm,” Janeway murmured, her body settling heavily against her partner. “It can wait until tomorrow.”

“Very well. Good night, Kathryn.”

“‘Night, my Annika,” Janeway whispered.

Seven smiled faintly and kissed Janeway gently on the forehead. She was curious, but not overly concerned. After all, Janeway knew best if it could wait or not.

And tomorrow was always another day.

2200 Hours (Post Dusk)

Jake raised his head, listening intently. The sounds from the other room had finally ceased, even the soft murmurs and mutters of warm emotion between his people. They did so adore each other, and that love consistently spilled over onto him, but he was still glad they had finished that silly game they enjoyed playing with each other so often. It was hard to sleep when they were yelping and howling like that. It made him feel sometimes as if they were being attacked by wolves or something, even though he knew they were perfectly safe.

He was quite aware that he had disappointed his people today somehow, and he was truly regretful for that. He also had some dim recognition of the fact that his excursions during the day had now come to an end, though that was more a sense than a concrete fact. Still, after the day he had experienced, perhaps that was not such a bad thing. All in all, it had been far more eventful than it needed to be, and he would not soon forget what had happened in the cargo bay. That was an area he had no intention of ever entering again … no matter how much it smelled of Seven.

He sighed and flopped his head down on his paws, closing his eyes. Sleep crept upon him on feather light paws and he drifted off where his dreams were filled with bright blue creatures with big dark eyes.

Which he could never seem to catch, no matter how hard he tried.

The End

Back to Season Two

On to Just Between Deceptions