This is the 20th installment of the Just Between Series.

This was posted during the middle of June, 1999, after the fifth season of Voyager.

This one is dedicated to Jennifer who visited me and gave me a hand with some of the research.

The title comes from K.C.

Just Between Darkness & Light

G. L. Dartt

The silvery form of the Federation starship USS Voyager gracefully orbited the third planet in the Meuranato system. On the surface, her captain, Kathryn Janeway, along with her carefully selected away team, entered the expansive dining room of the central citadel. This first evening of their official visit was being spent in the company of the planet’s governing body, at a dinner function hosted by the Honorable Chancellor Tarm, chieftan of the Meuranato Ruling Council. Janeway hoped to be able to secure both supplies, and some much needed shore leave for her ship. This seemed like a fairly promising beginning.

“Some set up,” Lt. B’Elanna Torres, the Klingon chief engineer muttered in an aside as the Federation diplomatic team was shown to the gigantic table that stretched a considerable distance from one end to the other. They were directed to one end, to what was obviously a position of some importance.

“No kidding,” Harry Kim agreed. Beside him, the security officer, Lt. Ara Lerona looked appreciatively at the wide variety of artwork adorning the walls as she and the handsome young operations officer took their places.

Opposite them, Neelix, the ship’s Talaxian jack-of-all-trades, and another security officer, Ensign Briggs, a deeply browned Argellian, settled into the ornately carved high-backed chairs, looking expectantly at the place settings before them. Captain Janeway found herself escorted to a place of honor next to Tarm who sat at the head of the table. That put her directly across from Seven of Nine, the Borg astrometrics officer who seemed slightly bemused by all the pomp surrounding her, though she maintained a properly dignified mien. Janeway was hopeful that this multi-species representation of her crew would make a good impression on their hosts, showing them how a variety of beings could work together in perfect harmony.

But when the Federation crew had their first taste of Meuranato cuisine, Janeway knew she was in real trouble. Seven of Nine immediately developed that peculiar expression she assumed whenever she didn’t like what she was tasting, and was preparing to spit it out as far as she could. Janeway was very familiar with that look, the last time occurring when the captain had made dinner for the couple, presenting her spouse of a few months with her own special version of escargot. Seven’s Borg enhancements must have provided a certain amount of boost, because the ejected snail impacted on the far wall of the couple’s quarters with a resounding thud, and promptly rebounded, striking Jake, their Irish Setter, in the head. The dog immediately yelped and looked accusingly at Janeway as if she was solely responsible for this indignity, while Seven’s declaration that the delicacy tasted like ‘garlic flavored fastening compound’ ended the captain’s cooking experimentation on a less than auspicious note.

Seven rarely beat around the bush when it came to her opinion on food.

Janeway doubted very much if it was a trait their hosts would appreciate, and she had no intention of letting Seven display her very impressive long-distance spitting technique … either for the Meuranato or the rest of the away team. She swiftly reached out under the table, and kicked the Borg soundly on the ankle, eyeing her warningly. The young woman stared back at the captain with astonishment, and Janeway gave her a stern shake of her head, which she hoped no one else would notice. Seven’s eyes immediately grew bigger, and an expression of complete distaste appeared on her face, but obediently she chewed a few more times and swallowed convulsively. Then, she issued Janeway a glare of such utter aggravation that the captain knew she was probably going to be paying for this for the next month or so. Janeway stifled her sigh and returned her gaze to Tarm, granting him her full and undivided attention.

Though quite humanoid in appearance, the Meuranato were a reptilian species, with a faint layer of shimmering scales over their skin. Their eyes were primarily green and gold, with slit pupils and no eyelashes … in fact, their species was devoid of hair altogether, and they seemed fascinated by the follicles displayed by their visitors. Very often during the dinner, from the corner of her eye, Janeway would see one of the Meuranato waiters reach out, almost involuntarily, to touch her auburn locks, catching themselves when she gazed at them fully, promptly withdrawing and offering an apologetic bow before resuming their duties.

Janeway wondered if she should have told Seven to let her hair down, the growth of which had been stimulated by the Doctor after the Borg’s last mission. Janeway was sure that, if the Meuranato were impressed by the captain’s meager thatch of auburn, they would have been completely overwhelmed by Seven’s impressive mane, at its greatest length to date, reaching midway down her back.

“I must say, Captain,” Tarm said, “it is rare that we greet visitors with such discriminating tastes. Our chefs have attempted to provide the most creative dishes of which they are capable.”

Janeway returned his smile, forcing herself to remember that the Meuranato considered baring one’s teeth to be a sign of aggression, keeping her lips firmly over her canines. It felt ackward and she was sure she appeared idiotic, but it was something she had practiced.

“We are honored to have the opportunity to partake of your bounty,” she responded evenly. She very carefully did not look at the rest of her team, sure they would be eyeing her with blatant disbelief.

To their chagrin, the food kept coming, course after course, and Janeway realized that her team’s diplomatic determination to show their appreciation for the Meuranato’s hospitality was being tested to its very limit. They greeted each new dish created by a different chef with bright expectation, as if hoping that this one would prove to be something more palatable, and each time, their faces fell as they tasted the offering.

Excluding Lt. Ara. The dark haired woman ate precisely the same amount each course before going on to the next. Janeway wondered if the ex-Maquis had ever been in a Cardassian prison camp during the occupation of Bajor, thus acquiring a taste for anything, simply as long as it was edible. Even Ara faltered, however, when the main course was placed on the table with great ceremony by the Meuranato, the waiters whipping off the covers from the dishes with a dramatic flourish to display the meal set before them.

The food was still moving.

Voyager’s crewmembers regarded their plates with dismay before B’Elanna, perhaps more inured than the rest of them thanks to her Klingon heritage, finally reached out with her utensil and gave it a try. The Meuranato sitting next to the engineer showed her how to scoop the squirming things into what seemed like a big spoon, and tip it up, the maggot-like shapes sliding down into B’Elanna’s mouth, squirming visibly the entire way. Torres chewed slowly for a few moments, a contemplative expression on her face and then swallowed.

And readily took another bite.

Janeway noticed that Seven and Harry were looking at the engineer with horror, both a trifle green around the edges, and Neelix’s eyes were as big as saucers, showing a considerable amount of white around the golden irises. To be perfectly honest, the captain’s stomach was not as settled as it could have been either, but B’Elanna merely returned their stare and abruptly grinned, showing pointed teeth.

“It’s good,” she said, scooping up another large batch.

Harry goggled with every appearance of disbelief, while Seven shot Janeway a look of utter apprehension, clearly begging the captain with her eyes not to make her eat any of the dish. Feeling less sympathetic than perhaps she should because, as captain, it was required that she had to at least try it, Janeway frowned at her spouse and took the silver scoop the Honorable Chancellor Tarm offered. Steeling herself, the captain gathered up some of the little pale yellow curls, and tentatively took a mouthful, chewing rapidly in the hopes that she could get them small enough to go down her throat without trouble. She attempted very hard not to think about what she was doing, just as they had taught her at the Academy in Diplomacy 101.

B’Elanna was right, they were good.

Astounded by the flavor that was a combination of shrimp and barbequed chicken, lightly spiced, the tiny wiggling of the creatures was not even noticeable after the first few mouthfuls. It was, without question, the best tasting dish offered, and as long as Janeway ignored her cultural conditioning, she found it quite palatable. She could see the dismay still present in Seven’s eyes, the Borg obviously taken aback by the captain’s apparent enjoyment.

“It really is very tasty,” Janeway assured her gently. “Try a small bite.”

Reluctantly, Seven picked up her utensil and prodded hesitantly at her meal, perhaps hoping to kill the creatures before she had to eat them. When she had finally mashed two or three into a rather revolting looking paste, she cautiously scraped it up and licked it off the scoop. Janeway thought that was far more disgusting than if Seven had just slurped them whole as the rest were doing.

“It is … not as bad as I anticipated,” Seven admitted in a low voice after she swallowed.

Janeway shot her a rueful half grin and to her gratification, Seven returned it, her pale eyes glowing.

The rest of the meal was less adventurous, and once the final dessert course was cleared away, Voyager’s crew were escorted into another room where they were able to start the preliminary negotiations for the refined ore Voyager required for the equipment replicators. It was very similar to the Federation cocktail parties at the various embassies on Earth that Janeway had attended, and she found Tarm to be a charming representative of his species. More than a few of the members of the ruling council mentioned to the captain that they were particularly impressed that the visitors had partaken of the main course since most ‘warm-bloods’ … as other mammalian humanoids were designated … were usually offended by the offering. Janeway was very glad her crew were the adventurous sort, even when they were not always gracious about it.

Each crewmember had been assigned a Meuranato guide, and Janeway noted that Neelix’s escort for the evening was a female named Margus, with scales of pale gold and a diminutive build. The top of her head barely reached the bottom of the Talaxian’s chin and her slender frame made the stocky Delta Quadrant native look clumsy next to her. Lt. Kim was quite taken with her, and made a point to be in her presence as much as possible.

Harry’s Meuranato guide, Trell, was an impressively large male, and it seemed to the captain that he also had an interest in Margus … and did not appreciate the attentions his charge was attending upon her, though diplomacy obviously decreed that he not tear Lt. Kim limb from limb.

In a spare moment, Janeway nudged Harry discreetly. “Mr. Kim, you might want to take note that you are not the only admirer of Margus, or the fact that your escort has at least ten centimeters and fifty kilos of sheer muscle on you.”

Harry took another look, his face blanching as he compared sizes, and must have decided the captain had a point. He nodded quietly and moved hastily away to another part of the gathering, as far away from Neelix and Margus as he could get and still be in the room. Janeway swallowed her smile, and found that Tarm was regarding her with his own smile.

“Your crewmember has good taste,” he said quietly.

“He meant no disrespect,” she offered carefully.

He dipped his head. “I am aware of that, as I’m sure my daughter would realize as well, had she noticed his attentiveness for what it was. She is still inexperienced with alien species.”

Janeway raised an eyebrow. “Your daughter?”

He looked proud as only a father could. “She will undoubtedly sit on the Council herself one day. Your visit is good training for her.”

“As it is for my crewmembers,” Janeway agreed, noting that Seven and B’Elanna were deep in discussion with their escorts; brightly colored males with iridescent fringes about their necks, though Seven seemed somewhat perplexed by what her companion was saying.

Janeway bowed politely to Tarm and drifted over, attempting to isolate her partner, and gratified when it turned out not to be that difficult. The Meuranato were remarkably polite, and Seven’s escort merely shifted his attentions to B’Elanna who seemed to be preening under it.

“Is something wrong?” she asked the Borg when they had moved to a relatively quiet corner.

“Were you aware, Captain, that certain of the Meuranato in this room are ‘available’ to us?” Seven responded evenly. “Including most of our ‘escorts’?”

Janeway blinked. “Available?” she echoed in bafflement.

“For this evening,” Seven prompted. “In the event that we should desire ‘entertainment’ upon retiring.” She paused. “I had to inform my escort that I am ‘bonded’.”

Janeway exhaled slowly. “I’ll inform the rest of the team not to misunderstand such ‘availability’. First, I’d better find out what the best way to say ‘no’ is.”

“That would be wise,” Seven responded dryly, quirking her eyebrow at the captain. “Especially since those ‘escorts’ are for you.” She motioned with her chin toward the other end of the room. Four shimmering males with bulging muscles, and two females with impressive scales, were standing in a group by the refreshment table. They immediately perked up as the captain looked their way, and Janeway felt her mouth go dry.

“Oh my,” she said, considerably disconcerted.

“Apparently,” Seven noted with rare and unexpected humor, “your reputation for insatiability precedes you.”

Janeway shot her a poisonous look, and went off to find Tarm once more. They needed to clear this up before the party was over, and any of the crew were escorted to their suites.

Or this mission would take a decided departure from Starfleet protocols.

Seven of Nine woke up in a strange bed in a strange room with strange roommates. She sighed softly as she heard B’Elanna snoring soundly in the other bed, while the subdued sounds of dressing let her know the third person sharing the suite was already up and around. Seven cracked her eyes open a slit, and saw the slender form of Lt. Ara pulling on her uniform. The Bajoran’s short dark hair was slightly damp, and the Borg knew that she must have already utilized the ensuite, leaving it free for her.

That was fortunate, since Seven had learned that it was prudent to get to the bathroom before B’Elanna. The Klingon tended to leave things in a mess, water on the floor, sopping towels draped everywhere, and a general impression of a bomb having gone off in her wake, all of which greatly offended the sensibilities of the very organized, meticulous young blonde.

Seven stretched, marveling at the silken sheets that slipped smoothly over her skin, wondering if she could acquire a set for her quarters on Voyager. They were almost like liquid, made of some material that would not snag on the Meuranato scales. She thought it was probably the most comfortable surface she had ever slept on. In fact, her sleep the previous night would have been perfect, but for one very important thing … Janeway had been required to stay in her own private suite across the hall.

Seven stifled her sigh and rolled out of bed, strolling through the room toward the ensuite in her Starfleet issued sleepwear, nodding a brief good morning to Lt. Ara. She and the Bajoran woman could not be considered friends, but they had acquired a certain sort of mutual respect after a recent away mission. Ara flashed her a faint smile, and Seven decided that perhaps being respected was something that was in itself, more worthy than merely being liked.

She quickly showered in the oddly functioning facilities … the water tended to spray directly from the sides and had a disturbing tendency to go up her nose … and then pulled on her ‘away mission outfit’. Comprised of a black sweater and trousers, the garments more practical than her mesh biometric suits that operated well within the confines of Voyager, but were inefficient under conditions that weren’t as controlled. She pulled on her padded vest, and tied her ankle-high boots before returning to the suite where Ara was regarding B’Elanna who was still snoring soundly.

“Should we wake her?” the Bajoran asked curiously.

Seven studied the sleeping Klingon sprawled over the bed, head back, her mouth open as she rumbled away.

“That would be unwise,” Seven noted. “I believe she has a tendency to wake up ‘cranky’.” At Ara’s glance, she quirked an eyebrow. “I have been told this by Lt. Paris, and by B’Elanna herself. She does not like to be awakened abruptly. She tends to react … violently.”

“The captain wants us to meet her in the main hall at 0800 hours,” Ara reminded the Borg evenly.

Neither of them budged, each venturing a glance at each other, hoping that the other would make the first move. Seven frowned and carefully inclined her head.

“After you, Lieutenant.”

Ara eyed her uncertainly. “Is that an order?”

Seven considered that. “Yes,” she finally decided.

Ara tilted her head. “You can’t give me orders,” she noted gravely. “You’re not officially in the chain of command.”

Seven’s face fell. “No?” She paused and added hopefully, “Is it relevant that I am the captain’s spouse?”

Ara shook her head. “I’m afraid not,” she said with undue solemnness.

Seven pursed her lips glumly. “I am the one who is required to wake B’Elanna, am I not?”

“Seems so,” Ara said, crossing her arms over her chest and giving every indication that she was going to watch this closely … perhaps for future reference, though Seven did not envision that being necessary.

She inhaled deeply, and cautiously approached the bed.

A thin stream of drool ran from B’Elanna’s mouth, and there was a thin sliver of white between her eyelids. Seven decided that perhaps this was not the most attractive she had ever seen the chief engineer.

“Lt. B’Elanna Torres,” she stated clearly and loudly. “I order you to wake up.”

The young woman’s eyelids fluttered, there was a brief Klingon epithet to the effect that Seven was hardly the boss of her, and could probably go pound sand, whereupon B’Elanna promptly fell back to sleep.

Seven frowned, reaching out and tentatively prodded the young woman’s shoulder. No response, other than a louder than average snore. Seven glanced back at the security officer who seemed to be waiting expectantly. As a result, she did not see the fist that thudded into her abdomen as B’Elanna flopped over restlessly and resumed snoring.

It was an interesting sensation, Seven noted as her breath expelled from her lungs with a mighty whoosh, and she bent over slightly. The Borg was a great deal stronger than the average Human, and this did not incapacitate her as it certainly would in other circumstances, but she was left with a much put upon sensation that she did not at all appreciate.

Carefully, she inhaled and with a sort of firmness that was uniquely hers, reached down and grasped B’Elanna by the front of her grey pyjamas, picking her up in one swift motion and setting her on her feet. Then the Borg released her, and stepped back quickly. B’Elanna had barely enough time to wake up as she swayed and toppled to the ground.

All in all, it was a fairly efficient way to wake up. B’Elanna bounced up from the floor, cursing a blue Klingon streak. Seven fixed her eye on the Klingon’s, pinning her with the force of a ‘stare’ she had been formulating by paying close attention to her spouse’s own formidable gaze.

“The captain requires our presence in the main hall at 0800 hours,” she said flatly. “It is now 0745 hours. We shall meet you there.”

She turned and walked out. To her great gratification, the security officer followed her, an odd expression on her face. Seven glanced at her, quirking her eyebrow, and Ara abruptly allowed the tight grin to edge past her lips.

“Well done, but I doubt it’s something the average crewmember can do.”

“I am not the average crewmember,” Seven noted reasonably. “I am Borg.”

“So you are.”

Yet, despite Ara’s professional … one might even say, friendly … observation, Seven found that she was somewhat disquieted. It was beginning to occur to her that she held no real rank on the ship. While some people followed her requests, others balked, and rightfully so. It also crossed her mind that on occasion, some people acceded to her commands only because she was the captain’s spouse, which was not necessarily an advantageous thing. She decided that she would have to speak with Janeway about this, and soon. She certainly did not require the rank and privilege of Commander Chakotay, the ship’s first officer, for example, but it would be useful for her to understand where exactly she fit into the chain of command.

She felt a little bemused as she realized that until now, she had considered the chain of command to fall far short of Borg efficiency, every drone knowing exactly what to do without need of orders or demands. The Starfleet method worked, but not in a way she thought was particularly proficient. She was beginning to see that it was even less productive when she remained outside of it, even as she tried to function within it. She wondered if Neelix also experienced this sense of frustration, of not knowing his true place in the Voyager family. Though the Delta Quadrant native had tried a brief stint as a security officer under Lt. Commander Tuvok’s command, it had never really worked out and the two men, Talaxian and Vulcan, had come to an equitable agreement that it would be best that Neelix resume his tasks as Voyager’s unofficial ambassador, and general all-around trouble shooter.

Sometimes, Seven decided, too much of what happened on Voyager was by chance rather than plan. It offended her Borg sensibilities.

She put aside her musings as she and Ara entered the great hall. It was bordered by lush greenery in manicured beds, and lit by an overhead series of skylights that allowed the sun’s natural light to illuminate the area. The brightness was slightly different than Sol’s spectrum, more into the yellow variant of the light, leeching out the blues, and Seven’s ocular implant was forced to compensate. She wondered how her fully organic companions adapted.

Her heart increased its pace as she saw her spouse, just as it always did; the vision of that compact figure in her uniform of black and red, the four gold pips glinting proudly at the slate blue collar, making the Borg’s breath catch ever so slightly. The captain was standing with the rest of the away team, Neelix, Lt. Kim and Ensign Briggs, by the main entrance to the residence, along with several Meuranato, including the Honorable Chancellor Tarm. Seven noted how Janeway’s elegant features did not precisely alter when she noticed Seven’s approach, but the blue grey eyes were certainly lit by a profound glow, which in turn, warmed the Borg immeasurably.

“Seven,” the captain greeted, somewhat formally. “Lt. Ara.” She looked expectantly behind them. “Lt. Torres?”

“The Chief Engineer is running a bit late, Captain,” Ara offered smoothly. There was the sound of feet pounding on the marble floor. “I believe that’s her now.”

Janeway’s eyes met Seven’s in a briefly shared second of amusement, before turning her attention to the Meuranato council leader.

“If not exactly on time, at least we’re eager,” she noted, smiling thinly.

He returned the lipped smile. “You will notice that my daughter has yet to arrive as well, Captain Janeway. We may have more in common than perhaps we realize.”

Janeway dipped her head in acknowledgment and turned back to the away team. “Honorable Chancellor Tarm has indicated that for our round of talks today, it isn’t necessary that most of you be present. I will require that Seven and Lt. Ara remain with me, but the rest of you are free to accompany Margus and her guides on a tour of the more ancient of the Meuranato ruins.”

Seven glanced at B’Elanna, and knew that the chief engineer would readily change places with her, but it was clear from the way Janeway phrased the offer, it was more than merely a suggestion. Seven felt a small smile quirk the corner of her mouth, and she obligingly moved to the captain’s side even as Ara did, attempting not to look inappropriately smug.

The group moved outside onto the wide expanse of veranda that looked over the rest of the Meuranato capital city, and their attention was taken by the approach of a large anti-grav land vehicle. At the helm, Margus waved cheerfully, and Seven noted that Janeway and Tarm exchanged another of the thin smiles. The Borg tried not to smirk when she noted B’Elanna’s very hangdog expression as the Federation members climbed into the speeder with their Meuranato guides, and drove off toward the city limits.

Janeway nodded at her remaining crewmembers. “Follow me,” she murmured, and the much reduced group descended the stairs to cross the paved square which boasted an intricate fountain in which some unidentifiable creature spouted water from its mouth.

Seven eyed the sculpture with interest as they passed it, wondering what sort of lifeform it represented or if, indeed, it represented any at all. She had come to learn that sometimes the creative instincts of humanoids manifested themselves in objects that were solely of the imagination, though she did speculate that the thing was far too visually displeasing to come from sheer inspiration. Of course, she had nothing solid to back that presumption up with, other than the fact than she found the sculpture repulsive. Considering her taste in artwork, that was saying something indeed.

They were led into the administrative side of the complex where they had been entertained the night before, through the gracious halls to a room where a large table was set up. There were pitchers of ice water, and a Meuranato version of the Starfleet padd set neatly in front of each high-backed chair, along with several stacks of informational material. It indicated the upcoming talks would be extensive, which meant she and Kathryn would probably not be able to find a certain amount of time for themselves after all, contrary to what she had been hoping when she discovered she was to stay behind and assist the captain.

Perhaps she should have requested that she and B’Elanna trade places after all, she thought glumly as she took her seat to the captain’s right.

This was going to be a long day.

B’Elanna lifted her head into the breeze that flowed over her, enjoying the play of it on her face as the speeder wound its way along the bank of a sparkling river to what would undoubtedly be another dusty pile of rock and debris. She didn’t see the appeal of looking at long dead cities, and she had no clue why other people found this stuff fascinating. She eyed Harry Kim with a sort of bemusement, wondering what compelled his enthusiasm about this tour.

The young Meuranato female obviously, she decided finally, with an internal smirk. Trell had not come along on this excursion, having been switched over to Lt. Ara, while the Bajoran’s guide, a male named Larus, was appointed to Harry. The Klingon didn’t know why that had happened, but suspected it had something to do with Margus. The Meuranato would occasionally glance at Harry provocatively, and B’Elanna wondered how much trouble this was going to cause in the future, remembering well when the operations officer had become involved with another alien female, completely against the captain’s orders. Leave it to Harry to be defiant only when his gonads are involved, she thought with amusement.

Catching sight of the rectangular signs with alien inscriptions that had become very familiar to B’Elanna the past few hours, they entered yet another site on the tour of Meuranato historical ruins. B’Elanna waited as the speeder slowed and stopped, lowering gracefully onto its landing struts that imbedded themselves into the mossy turf of a large clearing. The Klingon climbed out of her seat with a poorly stifled sigh, stretching slightly as she strolled down the ramp behind the rest of the away team. She shaded her eyes with a hand as she looked over the various weathered stone monuments, rising above yet more rubble in the thick temperate jungle that spread out around them. She tried not to look disgusted when she realized it was as unremarkable as the last few sites, waving away a few buzzing insects that flew too close to her head.

She must not have succeeded in hiding her disdain, because Margus drifted over to her not long after the walking tour began, an inquiring expression on her face.

“Lt. Torres? This displeases you?”

B’Elanna shook her head. “Not at all,” she lied, and then in a fit of inspiration, added, “I’m Klingon and our forms of entertainment differ somewhat from this, but please, don’t feel I am unappreciative. Learning about new cultures is very important to Voyager and her crew.” She was rather proud of the last statement. It seemed properly diplomatic.

“It is important to us, as well,” Margus agreed as they strolled along the various paths which had been set up to best show off the ruins. “I would especially like to know more about you. What kind of entertainment do ‘Klingons’ favor?”

B’Elanna smiled, realized a little late that she was showing her slightly pointed teeth as Margus recoiled slightly, and immediately pressed her lips together in what was hopefully, a less threatening grin.

“Sorry.” She took a breath. “Klingons are warriors by nature, and our forms of entertainment could be considered … well, somewhat more ‘rambunctious’ than this.”

“And you find this boring.”

“I meant no disrespect,” B’Elanna said hastily.

“None taken.” Margus lowered her voice and leaned closer to the Klingon confidingly. “I admit, I too find this tour to be predictable and mundane. We offer it to every alien species who visits, and sometimes I feel if I see another revered place, I shall go mad.”

B’Elanna laughed, this time careful to keep her teeth covered. “Well, sometimes we have to do many boring things for the sake of diplomacy.”

“Yes,” Margus said. She studied the Klingon covertly. “Do your people find entertainment when there is the possibility of … danger?”

“Oh yes,” B’Elanna explained readily. “In fact, the more dangerous, the better. The potential for getting killed is considered the best form of entertainment of all.”

If there was a bit of sarcasm in her tone, she doubted the young Meuranato picked up on it. The reptilian female had no way of knowing that B’Elanna was only half Klingon, something that had caused the engineer more than her share of heartache while she was growing up. Considered too soft for most Klingons, too rough and abrasive for most Humans, B’Elanna found herself on the outside looking in on far too many occasions.

“Some of us also find entertainment in dangerous pursuits.” Margus looked odd, half fearful, yet exhilarated at the same time. “Perhaps we could find a better alternative for you and your people.”

B’Elanna frowned. “In what way?” There was a sinking sensation in her chest as she realized she may have inadvertently caused something that could get not only her, but the rest of the team in trouble. Margus had already drifted off, heading for another of the guides to whom she spoke intently.

B’Elanna worried about it for a moment before common sense reared its head, and she shrugged it off. The Meuranato seemed pretty reserved. What could be considered dangerous to them might be no more than a minor thrill to someone like Harry Kim who was one of the most placid people B’Elanna knew. She doubted anything the seemingly naive young Meuranato came up with would be all that exciting.

B’Elanna feigned interest as she finished the walking tour through the Seventh City of Tarphus that apparently had been the Meuranato ruler’s last stand, not really paying attention as the tour guide droned on and on about how the warrior king had reigned over the planet before he was brought down by the people and the destruction of something called the Crystal of Being (In Charge). B’Elanna snickered when the universal translator spat that one out at her, deciphering the name of the artifact into Federation terms. On the other hand, she considered, some of the grandiose names both Humans and Klingons had used in their time undoubtedly sounded as silly in other languages.

Later, the group gathered back at the speeder where the tour guide left them and refreshments were distributed by their Meuranato escorts. The Federation crew gratefully partook of the offering which, unlike the night before, was of a more common variety; fresh fruits, warm breads, sliced meats, and various cheeses that were far tastier than the concoctions the Council chefs had invented. B’Elanna washed down her makeshift sandwich with a large draught of some sweetish flavored, ice cold beer, and decided that perhaps the Meuranato weren’t as bad in the gastronomic department as she had come to believe.

“B’Elanna?”

Torres glanced over to see that Neelix had moved over to join her.

“What is it, Neelix?” she queried the gold spotted Talaxian, feeling relatively benevolent at the moment under the effects of a warm sun, the pleasantly cool breeze, and some good food under her belt.

“I was wondering. … now that Susan Nicoletti is doing most of her duty shifts on the bridge if there might be an opening in Engineering.”

B’Elanna considered that one carefully. Several months ago, she, Seven and Chakotay had been transported to the Alpha Quadrant by a Bajoran orb. Before the artifact’s energy was drained completely, the three used it to return to Voyager, bringing back a runabout stuffed full of supplies including enough upgraded equipment to bring the food replicators fully back on line.

Neelix, a native of the Delta Quadrant, had been doing all the cooking for the crew prior to that, and his messhall had been the center of the community on the ship. It was still the center of the community, but he no longer had as much to do, many people returning to the replicator for their meals rather than choosing his dishes that admittedly, could sometimes be considered as adventurous as the alien offerings they had eaten the previous night. As a result, Neelix was finding himself somewhat at loose ends, and the Klingon knew that a recent stint in security had not worked out for the stocky alien.

“I’m sure we could find something for you,” she said slowly.

Normally, she would not be willing to stick a random factor in her carefully balanced engineering team, but a recent discussion had altered her perception somewhat. It had been over lunch … something the engineer wrangled whenever she and the Borg had the same off duty day because Seven was a surprisingly remarkable cook. Janeway had also been present that day, and the couple had been discussing the advantages of being flexible verses being organized. The captain offered the argument that it was not good for any group of people to become too complacent in a set group of tasks, making them unprepared when something unforseen did occur, as was bound to happen in the Delta Quadrant. Seven contended that, on the contrary, having a defined organization allowed a large group to adapt quicker because everyone knew their place, and would do their job no matter what went on around them. The couple hadn’t come to any definite conclusions, but B’Elanna had taken the captain’s words to heart.

She decided that adding Neelix to the engineering mix would do wonders for her crew, who had perhaps grown a little too comfortable in their positions.

Neelix beamed. “Thank you, B’Elanna. I won’t let you down.”

“I know you won’t. And Neelix?”

He looked at her inquiringly. “Yes?”

“It’s Lt. Torres from now on,” she said, edging a little command into her tone, pleased when it sounded faintly like the captain’s. “You’re in my department now.”

Neelix straightened. “Understood, Lt. Torres.”

B’Elanna stifled her smile as he moved away, considerably lighter in his step, and felt good about herself. A nice change from how she normally felt. Her eye was abruptly caught by Margus who had climbed up onto the hood of the land speeder, waving her hands to attract everyone’s attention.

“I believe we have seen enough of Tarphus’s cities where he ruled,” Margus said in a ringing voice. “Now perhaps it is time to see where he failed. I think we should show our visitors the Ruins of Sanzzibar.”

B’Elanna was sure it was just her imagination playing tricks, but was it a coincidence that a cloud passed over the sun at that very moment, the breeze picking up to flow around them with chill intent? There were murmurs from the other Meuranato in the group, uneasy glances being exchanged as the Federation team mostly looked confused.

“That is forbidden,” one of the Meuranato, a youngling named Nouvat, pointed out. The stocky male was B’Elanna’s assigned escort, and boasted a respectable fringe around his neck.

Margus looked at him scornfully. “There is no law on the books that specifically prevents someone from entering the ruins. The Administration of Historical Sites simply takes no responsibility if people visit them.”

“That’s because no one ever comes out,” Harry’s guide, Larus muttered. He was smaller than Nouvat and his fringe was much more muted, a pale green rather than the brilliant blue of the younger guide. “If Trell were here, he wouldn’t stand for this.”

Ensign Briggs’s guide, a stocky female named Darnat, sneered at him. “You’re not afraid, are you?”

B’Elanna was interested to discover that Meuranato showed embarrassment by the way their ear tufts darkened, the veins in the wing-like tassels throbbing visibly. At least, she thought it might be embarrassment.

“Uh, Margus,” she said, realizing that she, as the senior officer, was in command of the away team. “We certainly don’t want to do anything that might be considered … uh, offensive to your government. Are these ruins off limits?”

“Only to the cowardly,” Margus noted as she stared directly at the Klingon, and B’Elanna wondered if the young Meuranato was attempting to bait her into some kind of challenge. If so, it was a failed effort. Better individuals than Margus … Seven sprang to mind … had provoked the Klingon over the past few years, and did a far more effective job at it. “They’re not maintained by the Historical Administration so they’re not on the tour, and the possibility of crumbling rock could pose a threat. However, the stonework and carvings are far more interesting than the ones we’ve seen, and there are some that say they actually reveal the true origins of Tarphus’s rule, as well as hiding a lot of the treasure he was purported to have secreted away.”

B’Elanna resisted the urge to roll her eyes. A treasure hunt. That was all she needed, but when she glanced around at the others on the team, they were looking at her with eager expressions. They must have been as bored as she was by the tour … only they had hid it better.

“It might be more interesting to go back with data on the Sanzzibar ruin,” Harry noted hopefully. “Especially if it isn’t in the guide books.”

“Lt. Kim is right,” Neelix chimed in. “Often, the ‘official’ government tour does not give visitors a chance to see the ‘real’ planetary history and culture.”

Ensign Briggs seemed the sole voice of reason. “Lieutenant, I’m not sure the captain would approve of going outside the scheduled tour.”

B’Elanna considered her own perception of the fiery woman who commanded Voyager.

“I don’t agree,” she told him quietly. “If anyone likes poking their nose into places where it supposedly doesn’t belong, it’s the captain. I think she would want us to take this opportunity to see Meuranato outside the government restrictions.”

He still looked troubled. “If you say so, Lt. Torres,” he said doubtfully, though he appeared content that he had voiced his objection to the team leader, and not interested in pressing it any further.

B’Elanna nodded at Margus. “How far away are these ruins, and what should we be looking for when we get there?”

Margus beamed, and B’Elanna considered the fact that she was two for two in making people happy today. She wondered if it were becoming a habit, and promised herself to address it as soon as possible. Making people happy was not an admired Klingon trait. Making them cringe was more her style.

“The Sanzzibar ruins are only an hour away, though the trail there is somewhat rough,” Margus admitted. “It may take longer if we have to detour about collapsed trees or rock falls.”

“Then I guess we best get started,” B’Elanna said, brushing her hands off on her uniform before vaulting up onto the speeder. “If we want to explore a little and still be back before dark.”

She was somewhat disturbed when she heard a mutter from Larus to the effect that ‘the dark was exactly where they were heading’.

Janeway twisted her shoulders in an attempt to work some of the stiffness out of them, taking a moment to catch her breath after a lengthy and challenging negotiation. The Meuranato had turned out to be far less pleasant in trade than their genteel manner indicated, and she had been forced to use every bargaining ability she possessed to acquire the supplies she wanted. On more than one occasion, she had glanced over to see Seven staring at her with bemusement, while Lt. Ara always seemed to be leaning back in her chair, her arms folded across her chest, watching the proceedings with the infinite patience of a hawk. Other times, the Bajoran and the Borg were able to leave at specified intervals. Seven utilized such breaks to retrieve fruit and pastries for the captain. The Meuranato apparently didn’t think diplomats required rest of any sort, and if it hadn’t been for Seven’s thoughtfulness, Janeway probably would have collapsed at one point.

Finally, Tarm declared the discussion over for the day, having accomplished about fifty percent of the concessions needed for the trade pact. It seemed so extremely complicated for a fairly minor exchange that Janeway could only imagine what it would be like if there was a matter of a long-standing treaty involved. She shook her head as she picked up her glass of ice water, and sipped it as the rest of the negotiators left the room. She was aware of Seven moving close to her, frowning faintly as she regarded the captain.

“Are you all right?”

Janeway offered her a rueful grin. “It’s considerably more difficult than I expected,” she admitted in a low voice. “I thought we’d be done by lunch, and instead, we may be looking at another two days.”

Seven nodded, and then hesitated, an odd expression crossing her face.

Janeway flashed a bluish-grey glance at her.

“I know,” she said with tolerant amusement. “Tomorrow, you’d rather go on the historical tour.”

Seven’s cheeks stained a light pink. “Am I that obvious?”

Janeway tilted her head slightly, deliberately gentling her voice to become more husky and intimate. “To me, you are.” Gratified when the pink in Seven’s face deepened, though obviously it was for a different reason … pleasure rather than embarrassment.

“I will stay with the negotiations,” Seven decided firmly. “Otherwise, who would make certain that you have something to eat?”

Janeway eyed her warmly. “Have I ever told you how glad I am to have married you?”

“Frequently,” Seven responded in an equally low voice. Her pale eyes glowed. “I shall never tire of hearing it.”

The couple shared a look of affectionate regard before Janeway frowned briefly as she became aware the two of them were now alone in the conference room. “Where’s Lt. Ara?”

Seven looked out the large doors, motioning with her chin. “She is checking in with the away team. The tour was only to take a few hours, and Briggs has not contacted her.”

Janeway felt a faint tingle of alarm skitter up her spine, though she wasn’t sure why. Through the large bay windows which looked out over the city, she could see the muted golds and reds of the sunset, the sky darkening to a deep navy, and realized that they had been in negotiations longer than she had thought.

“She’s not the only one concerned,” she said somberly, putting her glass down on the table and gathering up her padds. “When did she leave?”

“She left approximately thirty minutes ago,” Seven responded as they left the conference room. “We are to meet by the fountain in the square.”

Janeway nodded, wondering why she felt this sense of foreboding. Aside from the intricacies of the negotiation, the Meuranato had been nothing but accommodating, and it was unlikely that there was anything wrong. Yet, despite that, she still quickened her pace as they crossed the plaza, heading for the fountain which was now lit by pink and green lights in the deepening dusk, the water reflecting the glow.

The slender figure of Lt. Ara paced restlessly beside it, and Janeway approached her quickly.

“Lieutenant?” she asked, a little more sharply than she intended.

“They’re still not back,” Ara explained as she led the way to another area of the complex. “There’s been no response on the communicators. The transport division agreed to put a trace out on the land speeder, though they told me it would take a while before they triangulated the signal from its energy output to its garage berth.”

“Was the tour supposed to take this long?”

Ara looked somber. “They should have returned by mid-afternoon. The historical administration allowed that perhaps they may have taken longer at each site than was anticipated, but they still should have returned before dark.”

Jnaeway inhaled sharply. “I don’t like the fact they’re not responding to your hails. We’re well within range.”

They entered the transport center, and the captain was further disturbed to see Tarm already there. He must have come directly from the negotiations, indicating that he had been informed of the lateness of the group as well. She wondered why he hadn’t mentioned it to her when he left the conference area. She glanced around the room filled with a multitude of screens, monitoring the various areas of traffic within the city, and supposedly keeping track of any official government vehicles that had left the complex.

“Is there anything to report?”

The Meuranato seemed a little startled to see her, then shook his head. “Not yet. I assure you, Captain, it is probably just a matter of time simply getting away from them. They should be back shortly.”

Janeway eyed him narrowly, not believing the reassurance for a second. He looked far too concerned to believe his own words.

“Are there any dangers on this tour?” she asked a young Meuranato female who was hunched over a screen displaying a cross section of maps which flickered from one to another rapidly.

“No,” she responded promptly. Then hesitated. “Of course, they were required to remain on the scheduled route.”

“If they didn’t?” Janeway asked evenly.

“Then perhaps they would have encountered certain natural obstacles,” Tarm interjected smoothly, overriding the technician’s reply. “The ruins they were to view are in the mountains, and there’s always the possibility of rock falls.”

“Is there a communicator on the speeder?”

“Yes,” another of the monitoring Meuranato spoke up. He was frowning worriedly. “There’s been no response. It could be a malfunction, or they could have simply turned it off for some reason. It is not uncommon, even if it is against the regulations. Another problem is that if the speeder isn’t powered up, the ID signature can’t be traced using this equipment.”

Frowning, Janeway looked at Tarm. She hadn’t wanted to bring Voyager in on this, but it was clear the Meuranato were not able to get the job done.

“Honorable Tarm, if you could give me the energy signature, I’m sure my ship’s sensors could pinpoint the location of the speeder.”

He looked at her, his eyes darkening, then he nodded with obvious difficulty. “That is a wise idea, Captain.”

The concession did not make Janeway feel any better since it was clear that he felt they didn’t have any other choice. She touched her communicator with a distinct sense of unease.

“Janeway to Voyager.”

“Voyager here,” returned the calm voice of her Vulcan security chief.

“Tuvok, I need you to run a trace on the energy signal I’m sending you, and transmit the coordinates back to this location,” she said.

“Stand by.”

Seven had drifted over to one of the monitors, and with the Meuranato’s permission, she took a seat at it, linking it to Voyager’s computer where she transmitted the energy signal. There was a pause as the two computer links exchanged information, and then data started to download into the Meuranato screens. Janeway didn’t know what Voyager had come up with, but from the immediate gasps that were quickly stifled, she knew it couldn’t be good.

“Honorable Tarm?” she said in a particularly dangerous voice.

The Meuranato did not go pale precisely, but his scales definitely took on a sort of brittle look in the greenish glow of the screens. He did not answer the captain, instead turning to his assistant.

“I want a patrol out there right now.”

Janeway exchanged a significant look with Lt. Ara who had been remaining out of the way and staying silent. The tall woman immediately moved up to the captain’s side in a support position.

“What’s going on here?” Janeway demanded, her voice hardening.

“Captain,” Tarm began, turning to her. He hesitated, then lowered his eyes. “This location your ship is sending … is it accurate?”

“If your energy signal was,” Janeway responded firmly.

He shook his head. “This is not good.”

Janeway resisted the urge to grab him by the scruff of the neck, and shake him until his eyeballs rattled.

“What isn’t good?”

“The signal appears to be coming from the Ruins of Sanzzibar,” one of the other Meuranato said in an odd tone.

“Those ruins were not on the tour?” Seven guessed.

“No,” he said, and immediately shut up as Tarm glared at him.

Janeway felt anger rise in her, and she was forced to take a few seconds to compose herself. When she was sure she could maintain control of her voice, she stepped in front of Tarm and fixed him with a force ten ‘look’.

“I want to know what’s going on here.”

He stared at her, then nodded. “We must go to the Offices of the Protectorate. They’ll be sending out a patrol to check this out.”

As they left the transport administration center, Ara fell into step with the captain.

“The Protectorate are the Meuranato’s version of an army, Captain. Why would they need to send out an armed patrol to pick up some tourists?”

“That’s what I intend to find out,” Janeway responded in her coldest tone.

The Offices of the Protectorate were larger than the transportation center, filled with Meuranato dressed in purple uniforms, banded by black leather belts and boots. The highest-ranking officer saluted Tarm stiffly, and turned back to monitors that showed the windshield of a vehicle driving through the night. The dark outlines of trees and bushes could be seen lining what appeared to be a dirt road, while rocks and an occasional stone outcropping forced the vehicle to swerve now and again.

“That is the video feed from our patrol, Captain,” Tarm explained as they all stared at the main screen set high on one wall . “They’ll be arriving at the ruins within two hours. I suggest you take the opportunity to have dinner.”

“I suggest you take the opportunity to tell me about the ruins of Sanzzibar,” she returned firmly.

He took a breath. “They’re extremely dangerous, Captain. I can’t imagine why your team wished to visit them.”

She raised her head. “You’re assuming it was my team that made the decision. I doubt they would even know about these ruins in the first place, unless your people told them about them.”

He stared at her. “My daughter would not voluntarily go there,” he said in the sort of tone that almost sounded as if he was trying to convince himself. “I’ve warned her repeatedly about how unwise it would be to visit the ruins.”

“That may have only made them more attractive,” Ara noted dryly from where she and Seven were standing, looking over the shoulder of the Meuranato soldier who was monitoring the direct feed from the patrol vehicle.

Disturbed, the councilor shot her a glance before he returned his attention to Janeway. “I’m sure our patrol will retrieve them promptly.”

“Tell me more about the ruins,” she insisted, not allowing herself to be put off. “What makes them so dangerous?”

“They’re cursed,” someone murmured quietly, and frowning, Janeway looked over, trying to determine who had said that, but the room was too shadowed, the only illumination coming from the screens dotting the walls.

Tarm also frowned. “Captain, I will admit that certain of our people have superstitions surrounding this site, but the real danger lies in the animals which inhabit the area.”

“Animals?” Janeway echoed.

“Monsters,” someone else muttered almost inaudibly from the shadows.

“There’s been a history of people … disappearing,” Tarm admitted heavily. Then he shook his head, as if trying to shake off bad thoughts. “I’m sure our people were just looking it over, and the reason they’re late is that they’ve broken down on the return trip. They wouldn’t have … gone inside.”

Janeway stared at him, and then abruptly turned away, seeking out her remaining two crewmen. Until the patrol reached the site, there wasn’t really anything more to say, and she was tired of Tarm trying to reassure her when it was clear, by the look in his eyes, that he was badly frightened.

She felt Seven’s presence bracket her on one side even as Lt. Ara moved to her other, the pair of women surrounding her as if in an attempt to protect her, though from what, she didn’t know. They waited with stone faces and dark gazes as the patrol traveled the rugged road for several kilometers before the ruins finally came in sight. The patrol truck bounced to a stop in what appeared to be some kind of clearing, and Janeway was dismayed to see the land speeder sitting motionless in the center, apparently abandoned.

The view jiggled as the camera operator got out of the patrol vehicle, and along with other Meuranato soldiers, approached the quiescent vehicle cautiously. There were dark stains over the side of the speeder, and one of the soldiers held a light on it. It was a dark blue, drying to a dusty navy, unrecognizable to the Federation women. Then, Janeway saw the other stain.

It was red, drying to a deep rust on the metal, and Voyager’s captain knew suddenly that this was very, very bad.

Seven’s breath caught as she saw the blood stains on the vehicle, and she could sense Janeway tensing beside her. Obviously, someone had been injured, but that did not explain why there was no one near the vehicle. Her eyes followed the unsteady feed as the soldier moved the camera down to the ground, their portable lights sending shadows across the screen, and making it difficult to see what was going on.

There were lumps under the speeder, and Seven squinted, trying to make out what they were. There were gasps of horror around her as the first mound was identified; the torn and bloody body of a Meuranato female, her abdomen laid open with the internal organs spilling out in a bluish explosion of tissue. The soldier bent down, playing his light over the features that held a terrified, astounded look. Seven recognized Darnat, the Meuranato guide who had been assigned to Ensign Briggs. The security officer was not much farther away, his body crumpled under the speeder he had almost reached before collapsing.

“Patrol One to base,” the voice crackled over the speakers. “The tracks lead further into the ruins, and past the entrance. I’m sorry. The rest have gone inside.”

A wave of grief and despair swept over the room as, on the viewscreen, Seven could see the soldiers begin to retreat, gathering up the pitiful remains of the corpses, wrapping them in tarpaulins, and placing them in the speeder before a soldier took the helm and both vehicles vacated the area. Uncomprehendingly, Seven looked around as the Meuranato wept dryly, and her eyes intersected with the captain’s. There was a flame in those blue-grey depths that told the Borg her partner was furious.

“Aren’t you going to search further?” Janeway said, every word bitten off with outrage.

“It wouldn’t do any good,” Tarm said, choking on his sobs. “They’ve gone into Sanzzibar. There is no hope.”

“What?” Janeway grabbed Tarm by the arms, and stared up into his face. “Tell me what’s going on here.”

“The Ruins of Sanzzibar are forbidden. They are filled with monsters and demons created to protect the Crystal of Being. It is certain death to go into the city itself.”

“Monsters and demons?” Janeway asked, not understanding.

“Created by the wizards centuries ago.” Seven thought he might be babbling. None of what he was saying made sense in this technologically advanced civilization. It spoke of superstition and fairy tales, the stuff of illusion designed to keep primitive minds fearful. “Anyone who enters the ruins once darkness has fallen never returns. All our people know this, but only we of the government know why. It is because the Crystal of Being remains buried in its depths surrounded by its protectors.”

“So you’re not even going to look for them?” Ara asked with cold disbelief.

“That would only be sending others to their deaths,” Tarm said, his shoulders hunched in defeat. “It would be futile.”

Janeway got that expression on her face that Seven had learned to recognize; one of absolute determination. It was probably the word ‘futile’ she thought. Janeway never liked that word no matter who it came from, be it the Borg or an obviously terrified Meuranato.

“If you’re not going in there to look for them, then I will.”

He looked at the captain. “Don’t you understand? They’re dead. They’re already dead.”

“Until I see the bodies, I don’t agree. Is there anyone who can guide us into the ruins?”

He stared at her with disbelief. “No one who has gone beyond the main entrance has ever returned. It’s suicide.”

“I prefer to think of it as not surrendering.” Janeway raised her head. “Will the Meuranato government grant us permission to search ourselves?”

His gaze faltered. “We won’t … refuse you the right to kill yourselves,” he said finally.

“That’s all I can ask,” Janeway said dryly.

She released him, and turned to the other women. “Looks like it’s up to us.”

Seven quirked an eyebrow. “It would be prudent to request assistance from the ship.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Janeway said, striding briskly from the room. She was no longer interested in negotiations or treaties. Her crewmembers were in trouble, and the captain of Voyager was ready to move heaven and earth to bring them safely home.

The bulky form of a Meuranato male stepped out into their path. Seven recognized Trell who had been Harry’s escort until this morning. His eyes were dark as he looked at them.

“I will guide you,” he said simply.

Janeway stared at him challengingly. “Why? Aren’t you afraid of the monsters?”

He made a face. “I grew up around the ruins. The danger is great, but there are no monsters … just genetically altered creatures let loose to roam its tunnels. Even now, Tarm tries to push superstition rather than admit to the truth; that the government set all this up five hundred years ago to keep the crystal from falling into the wrong hands. Margus found out about the crystal from her research in the archives. She probably thought that your people would have the technology to counter the animals.”

“So Margus set this up?” Janeway asked, outraged.

He shrugged. “It wouldn’t surprise me. She’s always been impetuous, and does things on the spur of the moment. You can’t reason with her when she gets an idea into her head. If she saw an opportunity to go into Sanzzibar, she’d take it. Possibly that’s why she arranged to have me removed from the team. She knew I would oppose the idea.”

Seven saw Janeway hesitate, obviously thinking it over before she nodded once, sharp and abrupt. “Fine,” the captain said. “You can guide us.”

She slapped her comm badge. “Janeway to Voyager.”

“Voyager here.” It was Commander Chakotay, the ship’s first officer, speaking this time. “Captain, is something wrong?”

“Yes,” Janeway replied shortly. “I want a bio-sensor sweep done of the area surrounding the coordinates we retrieved from you earlier.”

“Stand by.” There was a pause, and when he finally came back, his voice was puzzled. “Nothing, Captain.”

“No sign of our people?” Janeway responded, the disappointment evident in her tone.

“No, I mean there is absolutely no lifeforms at all in the area. We should be picking up something, insects if nothing else, but it’s almost as if there’s a bio-dampening field on the area.”

Janeway nodded as if this did not surprise her much. “Chakotay, we’ve lost Harry, B’Elanna and Neelix in that area. I want you to outfit a full security detail, and beam them directly to the coordinates, along with Lt. Ara, Seven, myself and one Meuranato native guide. We’re going to have to look for our people on foot, and we can expect to encounter a hostile environment.”

Chakotay hesitated, as if he wanted to argue. When he finally spoke, it was in a resigned sort of tone. “Understood. Tuvok is getting the team together now. We’ll beam you to the coordinates in fifteen minutes.”

“It would be wiser to wait for sunrise,” Trell said.

“We can’t wait that long,” Janeway replied shortly. “Neither can our people.”

Trell hesitated, then nodded. “I’ll be back,” he said and disappeared.

“Be here in fifteen minutes, or we leave without you,” Janeway shouted after him.

Seven crossed her arms over her stomach, feeling uneasy. This was happening very quickly, and she didn’t like when things were uncertain or unexpected. She prefered a clear-cut plan of tactics, not this impulsive leap into action. Still, she knew her friends were in trouble, and though the talk of monsters and genetically altered creatures confused her, it would not deter her. The strange sculpture of the fountain in the plaza threaded across her mind, and it occurred to her that perhaps it was indeed imagination which created the creature after all, though first it had been given flesh before being immortalized in stone.

The next fifteen minutes seemed to crawl by as the women waited with ill concealed impatience, not speaking to each other. Janeway stood, her arms across her chest, a frown of immense proportions on her face, her eyes a dark and stormy grey. Seven wanted to reach out and touch her, to gain some sort of physical comfort from her, but the expression let the Borg know that such a gesture would not be welcomed at the moment. Then Seven heard the pounding of footsteps, and realized Trell was rejoining them, just as a hum surrounded them with the unmistakable sensation of being transported. The snowy marble walls of the government complex disappeared to be replaced by the sounds and smells of jungle and the night. Around them, the brooding shadows of trees seemed as a warning of sorts as they rematerialized in the grassy clearing.

Six other beings also appeared, the security detail outfitted in Starfleet combat uniforms, packs on their backs, compression rifles held at the ready. The dark form of Tuvok stepped toward the women, and offered some equipment to the captain who took it, shrugging out of her tunic to put on the heavier jacket, pulling a pack onto her back and accepting the phaser rifle. The weapon was outfitted with a targeting sensor, and she hefted it grimly, a dark expression in her eyes.

There were also packs and rifles for Ara and Seven, and while Voyager’s security chief did not have a weapon for Trell, Seven saw that he didn’t need it, having outfitted himself in those fifteen minutes somehow. The Meuranato was now garbed in tan trousers while his massive scaled chest was left bare, but for crisscrossing leather bands. Two machetes were tucked into sheaths against his sides, heavy disruptor pistols lay heavy on his hips, and he hefted a device that looked very much like a projectile launcher.

Seven wondered what exactly he was expecting to face … and how worried she should be at this point.

“Trell?” Janeway said, not wasting any words.

He nodded grimly. “They’ve gone through the entrance. The thing to remember is that this is an artificial environment, and that the creatures cannot exist outside of it. They were designed to operate in the dark, and to kill whoever attempts to get to the Crystal of Being. The closer we get to where it is, the more deadly the animals will be.”

“But they can be killed?” Ara asked, caressing her rifle.

“Yes, but it isn’t easy. Our only advantage is with your lights. They seem to operate on a spectrum that is harmful to the eyes. Even I cannot stand to look at them for very long.”

“They are Earth normal,” Seven noted quietly. “With a blue white spectrum which this system’s star does not emanate.”

Janeway glanced at her, and nodded approvingly. “We’ll take every advantage we can get at this point. Everyone, full lights and keep the spare battery packs nearby.” She motioned with her head, a sharp jerk to the side. “Lead on, Trell.”

The Meuranato dipped his head in that odd half bow his people had, and strode confidently toward the entrance that was marked by the ruins of a gate. Seven noted carvings in the rubble, perhaps a warning to others that this was a restricted area. So much of this did not make any sense, and she longed for a spare moment to sit down and figure it out.

They had barely stepped through the gate when shadows flowed from the rubble rising high around them, quicksilver forms that darted away when ever a beam from the team’s wrist lights passed over them, yet continuing to advance steadily closer.

“Form up,” Tuvok snapped and instantly the security detail, including Lt. Ara, was in a circle, back to back, rifles and lights pointed out, the captain and Seven finding themselves in the center of a protective Starfleet wall. “Fire at will.”

Beams of ruby light singed the air as they impacted with the blurs of black, the high pitch of phaser fire underscored by mewing cries from the animals who broke off quickly and disappeared back into the rubble. Seven knew what that meant … obviously the creatures had encountered phaser fire before, and knew exactly what the consequences of it were.

“The opening to the lower levels is down here,” Trell said, motioning to an ornately carved entrance in a sheer stone wall.

Frowning, Janeway lifted her rifle and followed, Seven on her right flank, Tuvok on her left, Ara bringing up her immediate rear. The rest of the team spread out, moving alertly, ready for any hint of danger.

Seven’s heart was pounding, and she made an effort to slow her circulatory system, aware that this was only the beginning and things would progressively become more difficult from here. Their footsteps echoed faintly in the musky atmosphere as they descended down a stone ramp to what seemed to be a cavern of some sort. In all directions, the black entrances of tunnels loomed, uninviting, with a dank breeze blowing from some, while others boasted air as dead and still as a tomb.

Trell glanced over his shoulder.

“There are many booby traps and pitfalls. Watch where you walk.”

“This just gets better and better,” Ara muttered behind them.

Seven looked around to identify who else was there. Off to the side, the usually talkative, blue-skinned Bolian known as Crell … because his real name was unpronounceable by most of Voyager’s crewmembers … walked slowly, testing every step as just behind him, the bulky ex-Maquis, Hickman covered the rear. Seven realized that this was Tuvok’s ‘beta squad’, the best security detail the Vulcan had, and did not have to look further to identify the other three members; Davis, Varian and Ryan.

Seven felt marginally better about things.

Right up until the moment Ara stepped on a piece of ground that both Trell and Janeway had passed over, and fell through a chute that abruptly appeared beneath her feet, disappearing into the depths below.

B’Elanna Torres lay in the dust of a dank and rancid tunnel, and knew she was about to die. As a Klingon, she was not particularly afraid of dying, but it pissed her off to know she was going to do it here in a pit just because she had been a little bored with the historical tour. Of all the ways she could have expired in the Delta Quadrant, this seemed the silliest.

When will I learn to keep my big mouth shut? she thought grimly, staring down at her leg that had been broken when she fell down a chute. She had crawled this far before deciding that it was a fairly pointless exercise, not to mention an excruciatingly painful one. She had no idea which way to go or which direction led to an exit. She didn’t even know where anybody else from her team was. She was completely and utterly alone.

When they had landed the speeder in the clearing, all had seemed fairly peaceful, and they had crossed the grassy meadow in anticipation of a small adventure. Then they walked through the gate, and things became entirely too adventurous by half. Armed with only hand phasers, the team could not prevent the slinky black forms from herding them deeper into the ruins, the creatures deadly quickness making it difficult to draw a bead on them. Darnat had tried to break away, dashing back toward the gate with Briggs close behind, but the black things got to them before reaching it, ripping them open. They managed to stagger beyond the invisible barrier and collapse in bloody heaps near the land speeder, suddenly free of the black things which went no further than the rubble marking the gate, but it had done the pair little good. The wounds that struck them down were clearly of the mortal kind, brutal and final.

In truth, the rest were lucky to have survived that first attack, and they stumbled into the shelter of an entrance of some sort, the ramp leading down into the depths of the ruined city. Before they had gone very far, they were attacked again, this time by reddish things that flew on leathery wings, darting at them from above, scattering the frightened intruders into different directions. The Starfleet officers tried to fight back, tried to form a defensive position, but the onslaught was too great, and they fled before the swarming mass of fangs and claws. B’Elanna had found herself stumbling through corridor after corridor until she stepped on what she was sure had been solid ground only to plummet down a level or two to crash hard on an unforgiving surface, her right leg snapping instantly.

With all the things I’ve been through, she mused, propping her back against the tunnel wall and cradling her light and phaser on her lap, this is a damned stupid way to die. Chased by bats and eaten by Kahless knew what else. She had checked her communicator repeatedly, but it did not work, offering not so much as a chirp to indicate an empty channel. It was with fatalistic annoyance that she noted the energy level on her phaser was down to a quarter.

Eventually, the things which inhabited this place, a variety of the most horrid sort of creatures, would overwhelm her by sheer weight of numbers. She wondered wistfully if anyone would ever scream for her, would howl to Sto-Vo-Kor that a warrior was on her way. Even if it was a warrior who was going down while crawling on the ground like a bug. Eaten no doubt, by bugs. She shivered as she heard the rustle of many legs just outside the circle of her wrist lamp, having seen the fist-sized creatures skitter just beyond the beam of her light, the mandibles clicking obscenely together in the shadows, the large pincers designed for tearing flesh from bone.

Maybe Seven would howl for her, B’Elanna decided, trying to gather her courage. The Borg had turned out to be a good friend, someone she could rely on, and if the blonde never realized how much the Klingon wanted her, then that was only for the best. It was obvious that Seven shared something with Janeway that was beyond anything B’Elanna had ever experienced before, and just to be allowed on the outside of it, to be around them, able in some small way to feel the warmth radiate from their love, was something that the Klingon felt privileged to have been a part of.

She checked the reading on her phaser again, noting that there was enough for ten or fifteen more shots before it would become just so much scrap metal. She wondered if she shouldn’t use the remaining power for the lamp instead, because unquestionably, it was keeping her alive more so than any killing she might have managed. The creatures tended to swarm when they attacked, and the only way to escape was by running into another creature’s territory. Except, of course, the next group of animals were usually much worse.

Perhaps she should use the phaser for a more personal application she thought wearily. Just raise the setting all the way and turn it on herself. Suicide was an acceptable form of death if it was done honorably. The problem was, she didn’t think wanting to escape being eaten by bugs was a particularly grandiose sort of finish. She guessed she should probably just let the bugs eat her as she thrashed and fought to her last breath. That would be properly Klingon enough.

She bowed her head, closing her eyes. It occurred to her that she didn’t particularly want to be Klingon anymore. Embracing that path had provided her with no more peace than attempting to follow her Human sensibilities. She was still alone, still lonely, still on the outside looking in. She realized that more than anything else, she just wanted to be her, whoever that might be, even as she had no clue how to find that person. Now it seemed she would never have the chance.

Tears stung the back of her eyes and angrily, she blinked them back. Human or Klingon, she’d be damned if she spend her last few moments bawling like a baby. She took a few deep breaths, fighting back the sobs of fear and frustration that filled her chest, then grasped the phaser once more. One shot, she thought. She’d save the last shot for herself. Otherwise, she’d fight until the second last shot.

A reasonable compromise, she decided. Seven would be proud.

A noise made her raise her head, and her heart began to pound, sending tendrils of pain throbbing through her leg. Then, there was another sound, that of something large approaching her from down the corridor. Frightened, she lifted the light, pointing it down one way before remembering that sound was altered in these tunnels. What she thought could be coming from one direction could actually be coming in another, and she twisted frantically, swinging the light around defensively. Then, another light seared into her eyes and blinking, she raised her hand to shield them, her breath a sob in her throat.

“You’re not looking too good, Lt. Torres,” the unexpected, but most welcome voice of Lt. Ara Lerona said calmly from the shadows.

“I’ve felt better, Lt. Ara,” B’Elanna managed to respond evenly, not allowing the blessed relief and joy to show through.

“I’ll bet,” the Bajoran woman said, kneeling down beside the Klingon, examining the protruding bone and bloody wound in her right leg. “I’m guessing that hurts a little bit.”

“I wouldn’t recommend it.” B’Elanna let out her breath slowly in an almost sigh as she watched Ara remove the pack from her back, and fish out a tricorder along with a bone knitter and a dermal regenerator. “Are you alone?”

“Not to begin with,” Ara admitted in the sort of voice that let B’Elanna know the cool woman was somewhat embarrassed by it. “I fell down a chute. I’ll be damned if I know how it happened. I saw the captain stepping exactly where Trell was stepping, and I stepped where she stepped, yet a hole just opened up beneath me and swallowed me whole.”

“That happened to me too,” B’Elanna said as Ara cut away the Klingon’s pant leg.

Ara met her eyes. “This is going to hurt.”

“It already does,” the Klingon admitted stiffly.

Ara nodded and with a decisive movement, yanked on the limb, setting the bone back in place with a click that echoed nauseatingly in the still air. B’Elanna didn’t pass out, not quite, but for long moments the world around her spun alarmingly, and she had to swallow back the vomit rising in her throat. When she came around, Ara had begun to run the bone knitter over the wound. The young woman let her breath out with a hiss, the abrupt healing sending tendrils of fire up and down her leg, though it was far less painful than setting it had been.

“Sorry,” Ara murmured. “They don’t add painkillers in this pack … at least, not any that would work on a Klingon/Human hybrid. I can give you plenty of antibiotics.”

“It’s okay,” B’Elanna said through gritted teeth as the Bajoran injected her with a hypospray. “I can take it.”

“Where are the others?”

“I don’t know,” Torres replied. “We were separated.”

“I think that’s easy to do in these tunnels,” Ara allowed quietly. “In fact, I think they’re designed that way.” She finished off the repairs and snapped off the devices, replacing them carefully in the pack. “How’s it feel?”

Gingerly, B’Elanna flexed her leg, relieved when it seemed to move easily. “A lot better. I think I might even be able to walk on it.”

“No need,” Ara responded, putting a hand on her shoulder to hold her down. “We have to stay right where we are.”

B’Elanna frowned. “We should find the captain and the rest.”

“The captain has beta squad to look after her, not to mention her pet Borg,” Ara said firmly, sitting down across from B’Elanna, leaning up against the tunnel wall as she rested her compression rifle across her lap. “They’re on the move and if we start moving around too, that only increases the chances of missing each other. If we stay in one place, it’ll be easier for them to find us.”

B’Elanna didn’t like it, but she had to give in to the logic of it. She shot a sharp look at Ara.

“Seven isn’t the captain’s ‘pet Borg’,” she said coldly. “She’s her wife.”

Ara held up her hands. “No disrespect intended.”

“Nonetheless, disrespect was implied,” B’Elanna returned with a hint of a snarl.

Ara stared at her a moment, then nodded. ” You’re right, it was … uncalled for. I withdraw it.”

“Big of you,” B’Elanna drawled.

Ara laughed, a sharp bark. “You never liked me, did you, Torres?”

B’Elanna blinked, considered it carefully. “I never knew you. Not even when we were in the Maquis together. You kept to yourself, and the rest of us tried to respect that.”

Ara nodded. “Fair enough.”

There was a pause as B’Elanna studied her. “I do know you were Starfleet once,” she commented finally.

Ara tensed and B’Elanna thought she saw the woman go a bit pale.

“What makes you say that?” the Bajoran said in a voice that was almost … but not quite … matter of fact.

B’Elanna quirked her eyebrow. “The way you carry yourself.” Interest threaded through her as her ears perked up at the possible hint of something juicy. “The way you said things sometimes. Certain ways of doing things that only comes if you’ve trained at the Academy. Chakotay noticed it too, but we didn’t pry. We figured you had a good reason for keeping it to yourself.”

“I did,” Ara responded shortly.

B’Elanna inhaled. It was none of her business really, but that aggravating little part of her, that nosey, inquisitive need to know everything that was going on around her … particularly if it was secretive … prompted her to pursue it since she had the chance. After all, she decided, they weren’t in the Maquis anymore, and they had to pass the time in some way while waiting for the captain.

“I guess we figured you were AWOL,” B’Elanna offered casually. It hit the mark, she saw, the other woman flinching slightly. At that particular moment, for no particular reason, it suddenly struck B’Elanna that Ara was an amazingly attractive woman, though she tended to hide it most of the time behind a sullen wall of reserve that kept people from getting too close.

When Ara didn’t answer, B’Elanna tilted her head slightly. “You never resigned your commission, did you?”

Ara’s face twisted slightly. “I’m a traitor. All I had to do was stand in front of the man who gave me a second chance and tell him to his face that I had to leave Starfleet but I couldn’t do it. So I just … joined the Maquis without ever being officially discharged.”

“I don’t know that it matters much any more,” B’Elanna said. “Ara Lerona isn’t your real name, is it?”

“No, it isn’t. What difference does it make now?”

B’Elanna shrugged. “None, I guess.” She hesitated, thinking about it. “Maybe it’s time we all let go of the past.” She shook her head. “God knows, Captain Janeway has given us all more than our share of second chances. I know she’d give you one as well.”

Ara shook her head. “Janeway’s too Starfleet. Her father was an Admiral, after all. It’s one thing to give you and Chakotay a place in her senior staff. Or to even give Admiral Paris’s son a second chance. None of you wore the uniform when you signed on with the Maquis. I never took it off and so … I disgraced it.”

“Is that how you think Janeway would see it?” B’Elanna asked curiously. “Or how you see it?”

Ara stared at her. “You don’t know anything,” she said flatly.

“You’re right, I don’t,” B’Elanna agreed readily. She hesitated. “So why don’t you tell me?”

The was a silence and the Klingon could see the struggle going on behind those dark eyes, the secrecy that the woman had lived with for all these years, denying who she was and what she had been, hiding in the darkness of deception and illusion … and how it was too much to keep inside any longer. Their chances of getting out of here weren’t exactly promising, and the hope of the future was marginal at best. Perhaps Ara thought she might possibly die and before she did, she needed to tell someone … anyone … what her story was.

B’Elanna assumed her most sympathetic and inviting expression, suspecting that whatever it was, it was going to be good. Somehow, having this interesting bit of information granted her before her possible termination made it a little easier to face, though she had no clue why that was.

Ara raised her head. “I suppose I should start at the beginning.”

“Always a good place to begin,” B’Elanna agreed encouragingly. “Perhaps, your name?”

Ara smiled then; a crooked small smile, devoid of humor.

“My name?”

She hesitated and B’Elanna leaned forward expectantly.

“My name is Ro.”

“Lt. Ro Laren off the USS Enterprise.”

“Lt. Ro Laren off the USS Enterprise.”

Janeway held up her hand as she heard the voice of her missing security officer ahead, trying to determine its direction. They were standing at a juncture from which ten different corridors radiated, and while she could hear the words distinctly, she had yet to decide which tunnel it was coming from. Behind her, the security detail remained motionless and silent, awaiting her next order.

It had caused considerable consternation when Ara had abruptly disappeared, particularly when the tunnel floor had closed up behind her as if there had never been any sort of opening at all. Before they could pursue it, they had been set upon by some sort of flying creatures that whirled and lunged at them, fangs glistening with a kind of venom that none of the Federation members wanted to examine too closely. Fleeing in an organized fashion, they fired their rifles as they fought their way into a promising corridor. Since then, however, they had encountered one aggressive species after another, and it was possible that it was only their lights keeping them alive at this point, though none of the away team had emerged entirely unscathed from the nightmare journey.

Hickman was limping while Varian favored his left arm. Davis had a cut over his eye, and Ryan winced every time she moved her neck a certain way. Even Seven had various scrapes and bruises from the running battles they had fought with the various denizens of the tunnels. Tuvok was too Vulcan to show how much the blow to his ribs was undoubtedly hurting him, and Trell matched him in impassiveness, even though his torso was crisscrossed with blue lines where blood still trickled. The captain, although protected in the middle of the squad, was feeling considerably battered, and wishing she had never heard of this misbegotten planet, or the Meuranato.

“Never heard of you.”

Despite the situation, Janeway smiled. The voice was unmistakably her chief engineer’s. Chalk one up for Lt. Ara. Apparently the security officer was a lot better at finding their lost sheep than the rest of them had been. Then, Janeway realized what they were talking about, and her smile turned into a frown as she listened intently, turning her head back and forth slightly as she advanced slowly in the direction she thought the conversation originated.

“I was one of the few Bajorans who served in Starfleet at the time,” Ara … Ro? … said. “When it was discovered that a rogue band of my planet’s people were reportedly attacking Cardassian ships, they called on the current treaty for the Federation to help find and stop them. The Enterprise was dispatched to solve the problem, and I was yanked out of prison to assist.”

“Just like Tom Paris,” B’Elanna noted brightly. “Can’t Starfleet do anything without calling on their convicts?”

There was a pause, and then a small laugh from a throat that rarely laughed, the chuckle rusty and uncertain, as if unsure this was what it was supposed to sound like.

“I was posted to the helm, too,” Ro Laren responded, which provoked a laugh from B’Elanna in return and for a few moments, there was nothing but helpless giggles wafting down the corridor, the sort of nervous laughter rising from too much stress in too short of time.

“So why were you in prison?” B’Elanna asked finally.

“I disobeyed orders,” Ro said. “While on the Wellington, eight members of my away team died. I was court martialed.”

B’Elanna let out an audible sigh. “That happens sometimes,” she offered empathetically, if a bit lamely.

Janeway inhaled slowly and glanced back at the rest of her team. Seven looked bemused, as if she wasn’t sure if she should be listening to this, while Tuvok had an odd expression shade across his face. The captain’s gaze pinned on his and suddenly, there was no question in Janeway’s mind that the Vulcan knew exactly what the two women were talking about … and that he had known for some time.

She narrowed her eyes, and he quirked an eyebrow at her as if to ask what she expected him to do? Run to her with every little revelation he discovered in the course of carrying out his duties?

She frowned and turned her attention back to the conversation.

“In any event, when it was all over, Captain Picard gave me an opportunity to serve with him.” Ro’s voice turned wistful. “I guess he thought I could be a good officer after all. It was the best time of my life, and when he personally sponsored me for advanced tactical training at Starfleet Command, I couldn’t imagine being any more proud.”

“What happened?” B’Elanna asked curiously.

“My first mission after being promoted to Lieutenant and returning to the Enterprise was to infiltrate a Maquis cell.” Ro’s voice grew quiet, almost dead. “There was a man … he reminded me of my father. When he was killed ….” she paused as if having difficulty continuing. “I needed to help fight the Cardassians. I told Commander Riker that I was staying and to … thank Picard for all he had done. It was gutless. Picard wouldn’t have stopped me from doing what I thought was right.”

“But he would have tried to talk you out of it.”

“Maybe that’s what I was afraid of. That he would succeed. I decided not to go back, and that’s why I didn’t officially resign my commission. I was too afraid to face the disappointment in his eyes.”

“That was a long time ago,” B’Elanna said sympathetically.

“Not that long,” Ro said sadly. “I bounced around the various Maquis cells for a time, changed my name a little so no one would connect me with the Enterprise. Ara is my mother’s maiden name. Lerona is simply Ro Laren scrambled a bit.”

“I guessed that,” B’Elanna said. “It couldn’t have been easy living with this secret for so long. No one knew?”

There was a pause. “Actually, Tuvok knows. He knew back when he first infiltrated the Maquis.”

“How?” B’Elanna said in astonishment, as Janeway shot a hard look at the Vulcan.

“He was my tutor in the advanced tactical training course. He recognized me right away, of course but neither of us said anything to betray the other’s cover. Sometimes I wonder if one of us had, would we have still ended up lost in the Delta Quadrant?”

There was a silence, and Janeway wondered if the engineer was speechless, something she had a great deal of empathy with at the moment. She couldn’t believe that Tuvok had known they had a rogue Starfleet officer in their crew all this time and hadn’t said anything.

What would you have done, Katie? her little voice mocked. Arrested her? Face it, you have a convict as your helmsman, a Maquis as your first officer, a hologram as your CMO and, god love us both, a Borg as your partner. Can you really mount your high horse at this point about any of your crew? Besides, just who the hell are you to be so judgmental anyway? Remember who managed to lose them in the Delta Quadrant in the first place?

“Are you going to tell Janeway?” B’Elanna asked.

Ro hesitated. “Do you think I should?” she asked in a tentative, yet somewhat hopeful voice. “I’ve already let down one Starfleet captain. I don’t know that I could survive letting down another.”

Janeway’s eyes met Seven’s, seeing the empathy in the Borg’s gaze, and the captain suddenly understood that no matter what her original knee jerk reaction was, Ara was too good an officer to throw away. Janeway firmed her jaw, knowing what she had to do.

“Then don’t let me down,” Janeway said strongly as she stepped into the tunnel where the two women were sitting opposite one another.

The Bajoran looked up in shock, her face a pale oval in the lights of the security team. Janeway walked over and knelt beside her before the officer could scramble to her feet.

“All I require from you is that you give me your best, all the time,” Janeway said firmly, yet compassionately as she fixed her eyes on the woman’s dark gaze. “I know your best should be more than good enough. Jean-Luc Picard isn’t the sort to take on an officer unless he believed in her enough to give her a chance. I can do the same.”

“Yes, ma—Captain,” Ro said, her voice still edged with shock.

Janeway nodded briefly and looked over at B’Elanna who was being greeted by a hug from Seven, the Klingon lifted off the ground in the Borg’s enthusiasm. “Glad to see you’re still in one piece, Lieutenant.”

“Thank you, Captain,” the engineer returned, blushing furiously as Seven finally released her. She glared at the Borg. “When did you become so demonstrative?”

“Since I discovered it embarrasses you,” Seven responded honestly.

Despite the situation, Janeway laughed briefly, and then held out her hand to help the still flustered Ara … Ro Laren … to her feet. I must remember to call her Lt. Ro from now on, Janeway thought. I think she’s been without her true identity quite long enough.

“Captain,” Tuvok said. “Perhaps we should take the opportunity to rest here. Our lights seem to be holding off any creatures for the time being, and my observation is that we are more likely to be attacked on the move than when we are still.”

Janeway considered it, then nodded briefly. “Good idea. Three hours people, then we resume our search. Eat, rest, try to relax. God knows it’ll only get harder from here.”

The group spread out a bit, setting up lights at eight corners to provide a cube-shaped haven of bright light in which they all huddled. Two of the security guards, Hickman and Ryan took first watch, each taking a different direction to monitor, while the rest took the time to heal wounds, gulp down a hasty bite of Starfleet rations, and try to relax a little. Janeway made a point of sitting down next to Tuvok.

“Captain,” he said warily.

Janeway unwrapped the foil from her ration bar, and took a bite, chewing slowly. Then she swallowed the crumbly dry sweetness and sipped some cool water from her canteen to wash it down before she glanced sideways at him.

“You knew all this time.”

He dipped his head. “The story you heard was quite accurate.”

“You kept it quiet.” She tried not to sound wounded. Tuvok had served with her the longest, and she considered him a close and trusted friend beyond being just her chief of security. When he did something that might be seen as a form of betrayal, it bit deeper than in other circumstances, with other crewmembers.

He regarded her evenly. “I am curious as to what difference you feel it would have made. You offered all the Maquis an opportunity to serve as Voyager’s crewmembers. You did not request that Commander Chakotay reveal his life story, nor Lt. Torres when you placed them in positions of authority. Why require Lt. Ro’s when she began her time cleaning out plasma relays?”

Janeway rubbed her forehead fretfully. “She did start all over, didn’t she? I read her file … or rather, Lt. Ara’s. She worked her way up right from the lowest rank during that first year on Voyager.”

“All that training could not be repressed forever.” Tuvok glanced at her. “Is it truly that important that she did not resign her commission?” He hesitated. “In one way, by deciding to destroy the Caretaker’s array, you also became absent without leave, choosing to follow a path here in the Delta Quadrant because you felt it was for the greater good.”

Janeway blinked. “Ouch, Tuvok.”

He looked faintly pleased that he had managed such a telling blow to her building outrage, deflating it with one decisive comment. “It was her place to tell you,” he added quietly. “Not mine.”

“She didn’t tell me,” Janeway pointed out. “I eavesdropped.”

Tuvok quirked his eyebrow. “Captain, she told B’Elanna, which was as good as telling Seven, who would have promptly told you.” He tilted his head slightly. “Everyone on the ship knows that. One might consider that as good as telling you face-to-face.”

Janeway wanted to object to that, but couldn’t find a way. “It would have made its way to me pretty quick,” she admitted grudgingly. She shook her head. “Tuvok, did the Doctor know? Ro’s medical records would be in the database.”

Tuvok considered it. “She undoubtedly walked in and said she was Maquis, Captain. I suspect the Doctor would have simply created a new record for Ara Lerona, just as he did the other Maquis. There was no need for him to ever look for records pertaining to Lt. Ro Laren of the USS Enterprise, and the computer would never volunteer such records without a direct request.”

She nodded. “I hadn’t thought of that.” She paused. “I need to go over her records now, particularly pertaining to the Wellington. I need to know more about that.”

“So you may hold it against her?” he asked blandly.

She shot him a sharp look, and then grinned ruefully. “No, Tuvok. So I can know more about who she is, why she would do the things she did and will do in the future. Just like any other member of my crew.”

“Ah,” he added noncommittedly.

“In any event, old friend,” she said, patting him on the knee. “She was your problem before this, she’s still your problem. I leave it in your capable hands.”

“Thank you, Captain,” he said, and there was a hint of suspicion in his tone as he looked at her narrowly. “Problem?”

She motioned with her head to where Ro, Seven and B’Elanna were deep in conversation.

“It looks like she’s made some new friends. We all know where that could lead. Three to worry about now rather than just two … with advanced tactical training added to the mix.”

She tried not to laugh at the expression that suddenly crossed his face, despite his best Vulcan attempt to conceal it.

Seven of Nine glanced over and saw that Janeway had finished speaking with Tuvok. She felt somewhat detached from the conversation with B’Elanna and Ara … with B’Elanna and Ro Laren … and dazed, not only from this journey of constant attacks from the most vile sort of creatures, but also to discover that what she thought about some people was not at all what was the truth. She understood deception to a certain degree, but to hide who one was for years? That baffled her, and made her head hurt when she tried to understand it. She was so much better with mathematical formulae than emotional connotations.

She brushed the dirt from her trousers and drifted over to where Janeway was sitting, her back against the wall, gnawing patiently on a ration bar. The captain smiled faintly as Seven sat down in the place Tuvok had vacated when he moved over to check on the guards he had on watch.

“Hello darling,” Janeway said in a low voice. “Still with us?”

Seven glanced over at the captain who returned the look with what seemed amusement. Seven realized that despite the danger, her partner actually enjoyed these sort of missions, or perhaps it was because of the danger. Janeway was worried for her people of course, but the threat of being killed was a source of inspiration to her, a challenge to face down and defeat thoroughly. It brought out the best from the compact woman who commanded Voyager, almost excited her in some strange fashion, and the thought crossed Seven’s mind that once the mission was over, assuming it was successful, and they returned to the ship, she could expect Janeway to leap on her in their quarters with all the subtlety of a moose in heat.

Not that she minded, of course, but given her druthers, Seven much preferred her missions to remain in high tech areas rather than in a dusty, cobwebbed network of tunnels filled with genetically altered creatures bent on ripping her apart.

“Surprising bit of information on Lt. Ro,” Janeway added casually.

Seven pursed her lips thoughtfully. “She has been hiding her true self for a very long time. It must have been very difficult for her.”

“I’m sure it was,” Janeway said, reaching over to pat her partner’s hand. Her voice had softened, and there was a warm expression in her eyes. “You really do have the gentlest heart, Annika. To think I presumed to teach you about compassion.”

“You did teach me about compassion,” Seven protested. “I would not even understand the concept if not for you.”

Janeway offered a quiet smile. “Nonetheless, you’re far more compassionate than I am sometimes.”

Seven blinked, and considered that. It was not something she had ever thought about before.

“Perhaps,” she said uncertainly, not sure if she agreed with such a statement. She glanced at her partner inquiringly. “Do you think the others are still alive?”

Janeway sobered. “I don’t know, but I’m not giving up until either I’ve found them, or made sure they’re dead.” Seven knew she wouldn’t. That glint in the captain’s eyes was all too familiar to the Borg … one of absolute determination and fortitude.

Seven sighed and leaned back against the wall, trying to relax. Her side ached where some kind of a cross between a feline and an alligator had slammed a paw into it, raking at her with its claws. Fortunately, the blow had been absorbed by the padding of her vest. She had reached out and clubbed it down with her Borg enhanced left hand, but the memory of how close it had come to disemboweling her made her feel a little weak inside, though she endeavored not to show it. It wasn’t that she was afraid of death, but at the moment, she had so much to live for … most of which was compressed into the feminine form next to her … that she was not particularly anxious to die either.

Beside her, Janeway pressed her knee against hers, snuggling against the Borg without giving the impression that was what she was doing to anyone who might be looking. Seven knew what she felt against her side, however, and accorded herself a moment to enjoy it, closing her eyes as she allowed herself to rest. She felt herself dozing off, and with an effort, brought herself awake with a jerk, sending a mental command through her cortical implant to release stimulating nanoprobes throughout her system to combat the fatigue. Almost immediately, she was completely awake, fully alert, and she wondered if anyone noticed her brief lapse.

“Are you all right?” Janeway asked in a low tone.

“Yes,” Seven said, then added quietly, “Captain.”

She had surprised Janeway she saw, and at the smaller woman’s inquiring look, Seven took a deep inhalation and decided that now was as good a time as any to tell her partner what had been on her mind.

“Captain, I believe I require an official rank.”

Janeway blinked, puzzled, staring at her. “Beyond what you have now?”

“I have none now.” Seven sighed. “Sometimes people listen to what I say and other times, they do not and in either case, I am unsure which is proper. I have come to the conclusion that I no longer wish to remain outside your chain of command.”

Janeway let her breath out slowly. “This is a switch. I thought you didn’t like the chain of command. You find it lacking, I believe.”

“It is, compared to the efficiency of the Collective. But if I am expected to function as a part of this crew, I find that it is even more inefficient to remain outside it.”

“All right,” Janeway allowed carefully. “Did you have something in mind? Were you thinking about an actual Starfleet commission?”

Seven eyed her cautiously. “Would I have to wear the uniform?”

Janeway eyed her. “Certainly. Either you’re in Starfleet or you’re not.”

Seven considered it. “Very well then, I require a commission.”

“It’s not quite that easy, Seven,” Janeway said dryly. “These aren’t mints, you know. I just can’t hand them out randomly.”

Seven frowned. “Do you feel that I am unqualified to be in Starfleet?”

Janeway hesitated. “I don’t know that I can answer that at the moment. As far as your duties in astrometrics, as far as your performance to date, certainly you’re technically qualified, but there’s more to being in Starfleet than just being capable with technology. There are a host of other things that we simply haven’t addressed.”

“Such as?”

“A Starfleet officer must fulfill a lot of different roles, Seven,” Janeway said seriously. “If you’re truly determined to do this, then I suggest we start with some of the entrance exams for the Academy.”

“Do you expect me to pursue the entire four year case load of a cadet?” Seven asked with surprise. “None of the Maquis did.”

“No, but all the Maquis on the senior staff have Starfleet experience. Now I grant that some of Voyager’s crew wouldn’t have been able to pass the preliminary tests that determine if one is suited for becoming a member of Starfleet, but for you, it’s different. I don’t believe that you’d want a commission unless you were prepared to uphold it completely, not just here, but back in the Alpha Quadrant as well.”

“That is correct,” Seven said tentatively.

Janeway dipped her head. “So if we do this, we do it right. When you finally do put on that uniform, it won’t be a matter of convenience, it will be a matter of it being the right path for you. I won’t let you accept anything less. If I did, not only would I be failing you as your captain, I’d be failing you as your spouse. I want the best for you, Seven, as well as your best for Starfleet. Do you understand?”

“I believe so. I want to do my best.”

“I’ll talk to Chakotay and Tuvok when we get back to Voyager. Together, we’ll work out how we have to do this.”

“Very well,” Seven said faintly.

The Borg, who only really wanted to know when she could order people around and when she couldn’t, abruptly realized that she had just stepped into something a whole lot bigger than what she’d anticipated. Yet, she had no intention of disappointing the woman sitting beside her, and a determination to be the best Starfleet officer possible began to fill her with resolve.

Along with more than a little apprehension.

She frowned faintly as she considered the ramifications, the knowledge that she was about to embark on a procedure that might have life-altering consequences. She knew how much Starfleet meant to her wife, how Janeway’s father who had reached such lofty heights in the organization, had held such a profound and predominant influence on the woman. Seven wondered if she too would be influenced by this.

She thought about it further. In truth, her current existence was already unduly influenced by Starfleet, having been removed from the Borg by a representation of that very organization. Janeway may say things to the effect that she always saw something special in Seven, but the young woman knew it was the captain’s ethical standards, reinforced by her career, which determined that the drone which she had severed from the Collective should be kept rather than simply discarded as many others would have. Not that Seven regretted any of that, but she knew that Starfleet demanded a great deal of its members, and she wondered if she would fit in.

She felt a nudge at her side, and she looked down into the beloved features of her spouse.

“Second thoughts?” Janeway asked keenly.

“No, Captain,” Seven said firmly. “I am prepared to become a fully functional member of Starfleet.”

Janeway held her gaze for a moment longer before nodding, a decidedly pleased expression on her face. “I want you to know, darling, this means a great deal to me. Starfleet is a very important part of my life, and always has been. For you to want to follow that path as well makes me very proud.”

Seven was warmed all the way through. “Kathryn, you have been an inspiration to me from the beginning. I believe it is natural for me to want to share this part of you, and perhaps, it shall help me understand you even better.”

Janeway grinned wryly. “That may be a side effect we both have to live with.” Seven stared, not understanding, and Janeway’s smile grew a bit sad. “I would hate to think you would turn into another me who puts career first and personal life second.”

Seven shook her head.

“That shall never happen. You are the most important thing in my life. You always will be no matter what.”

Janeway offered her that soft expression, the one of shy, wistful pleasure.

“I would kiss you right now,” she murmured. “If it weren’t so completely unprofessional.”

Seven smiled faintly.

“You must restrain such impulses for when we return to the ship. Then you may indulge them fully.”

The blue grey eyes shaded to sapphire.

“I can’t wait.”

B’Elanna Torres watched Ro Laren surreptitiously from the corner of her eye, surprised at the odd feelings that were stirring inside of her. It was as if by unburdening herself of her secret, the Bajoran had stepped into the light after existing the past six years only in shadow and darkness, and the Klingon could see her clearly now for the first time. As the unseen weight was lifted off her shoulders, the real woman who lay beneath was now returning to life.

She discovered that Ro Laren was beautiful, moving with competent deadliness and a commanding presence.

B’Elanna had no clue where this was coming from. After all, she had practically forgotten the woman had existed during their stint on Voyager, after surrendering her life in the Maquis to Janeway and Starfleet. But now that Ro’s true colors were revealed,the Bajoran was no longer hiding the ease with which she could handle herself, a cross of sorts between Seven’s efficiency and Janeway’s firm sense of knowing exactly what to do and when. It was … astounding.

B’Elanna didn’t realize she had been staring until Ro’s dark eyes met hers, pinning her in place. The Klingon blushed faintly, then blushed even more because she had been caught blushing.

“Do you need something?”

“No,” B’Elanna mumbled. “I just … I wanted to thank you for fixing my leg.”

Ro seemed ready to pass it off as simply doing her duty, but she hesitated, observing B’Elanna closely and nodded instead. “You’re welcome.”

B’Elanna took a breath, unable to hold that dark gaze, looking over instead, to where Janeway and Seven were deep in discussion. Even while on a mission, in the middle of a pit, the love of the two women seemed to radiate with its own unique glow. Janeway had her hand on Seven’s thigh with such complete unselfconsciousness that the engineer suspected the captain wasn’t even aware of what she was doing. Seven in turn, was leaning into Janeway, slightly over her as if to protect her, their faces mere centimeters apart as they spoke intently.

“They really do love each other,” Ro remarked, having followed the Klingon’s gaze.

“Yes,” B’Elanna said, unaware that her voice held a note of longing that was impossible to conceal even though she thought she had.

Ro quirked an eyebrow, looking at the engineer with sudden bemusement.

“What is it you’re envious of? One of them? Or just what they have.”

Startled, B’Elanna glared at her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she growled warningly.

Ro drew back a little, lifting a hand defensively.

“Just curious.”

“Lt. Ro,” Tuvok said from where he and Lt. Davis were kneeling over a padd balanced on the Vulcan’s knee. He used the woman’s name naturally, as if he had always been using it, and B’Elanna wondered as the Bajoran moved away from her if it was just his Vulcan nature, or his prior knowledge which allowed him to adapt easily to the new reality. The Klingon was probably going to continue to call the security officer ‘Ara’ for a good long time.

B’Elanna noticed that Janeway was rising to her feet, along with Seven, and she realized that the brief rest period was over. She didn’t mind. The sooner they were on the move, they sooner they would find Harry and Neelix and get the hell out of here. She used the wall to help her get to her feet, her right leg not yet strong enough to support her easily, much to her chagrin. She was surprised when supportive arms slipped around her waist, and she looked around to find Janeway and Seven bracketing her between them, thinking perhaps that she had actually died and gone to heaven.

“Captain?”

“We need to let the security team do their job,” Janeway explained. “Let’s go.”

Together, the three women stumbled forward in the protective center of the security team that surrounded them, the Federation members heading down the corridor, searching for the stairs which would take them down yet another level, ever deeper into the Ruins of Sanzzibar.

The next few hours were a sort of miserable parody of one of B’Elanna’s Klingon holographic workout programs. Every corner they turned, they were set upon by yet another set of horrors; either small, vicious creatures that attacked in swarms or single, massive creatures that loomed in the tunnel and lunged at them with gaping jaws. The Klingon was profoundly grateful that the security team had arrived fully prepared for any contingency, and expired rifle energy packs littered their wake like the breadcrumbs in the Hansel and Gretel story her father used to tell her when she was very young. Perhaps they too would mark their way home … provided they could find their missing crewmembers and retrace their steps.

They were surprised when the tunnels abruptly opened into a large cavern. Trell turned back to the captain, and motioned with a thickly muscled, scaled arm.

“We’ve reached the lowermost level. If your people are not here, we must believe that they have been … consumed.”

“In that case, we’ll go through every miserable creature, and make a thorough examination of their intestinal tract,” Janeway said coldly.

B’Elanna was impressed. Sometimes she thought the captain would have made an excellent Klingon, though it never failed to surprise her when she heard such determined words coming from such a compact form. She was acutely aware of Seven on her right, carrying her easily with her Borg enhanced arm, hefting the rifle in the other with ease, her narrow features impassive. Seven, of course, would make an excellent Vulcan.

Then B’Elanna wondered why she was insisting on casting the two women into a light that was something other than who they really were? Her own sense of displacement, she decided. Betwixt and between, not truly understanding either; she was cursed with the darkness of her Klingon side, the passion and aggression constantly struggling with a Human side that offered her a softness and need for gentleness that she did her best to conceal. Or perhaps it was a blessing. She thought at one point, when a Vidiian device split her into her two selves, that she had managed a sort of truce between her halves once she had been reformed. All it really did was allow her to recognize fully the contribution of her Klingon side, and it had been becoming more dominant ever since, despite her efforts to control it.

What would it take for her to achieve a happy medium, she wondered wistfully.

She decided suddenly that this mission was becoming entirely too introspective, and she sighed in relief as the captain and Seven lowered her to a boulder as the team took another break. B’Elanna watched as Janeway conferred with Trell and Tuvok while Seven examined her tricorder, attempting for the fifth time to make it work or at least, discover the reason why it wasn’t.

A shadow fell over her and B’Elanna flinched briefly as she looked up, hoping she hadn’t shown it . Ro Laren dropped to a crouch beside her, eyes flicking about the darkness beyond the haven of their lights, constantly scanning for danger.

“How are you doing?”

“I’m fine,” B’Elanna growled, wondering why she was being so reactive to the woman. It seemed that even the most casual statement from the woman made her tense.

Ro nodded. “Good. I think it’s about to become difficult.”

B’Elanna couldn’t help herself. She laughed and Ro glanced at her, offering a wry smile.

“I’ll be ready.” B’Elanna studied the woman, realizing that Ro was older than the Klingon, maybe even by as much as a decade. Of course, that would make sense. When Ro was going through tactical training, an inexperienced and lost B’Elanna was striking off on her own after leaving the Academy. That was well over six years ago and the Klingon wondered where the time had gone, slipping away from her somehow.

She wondered if Ro had been as alone as she had been all those years.

A faint sound drifted into her keen ears and she started. “Listen.”

Nearby, Seven was also rising to her feet, her head tilted slightly as the rest fell silent.

“Phaser fire,” the astrometrics officer identified in her precise voice. “There.”

B’Elanna was gathered up by the Borg as the rest hastened in the direction of the disturbance, trailing the sound of energy beams piercing the air that grew progressively louder. They found their remaining lost sheep in a makeshift shelter, an alcove of rock and debris, besieged by creatures that were mere shades; pale squares of tissue so translucent, one could see the internal organs pumping within. Their danger was evident by the desiccated corpse of the Meuranato guide, Larus, lying crumpled at the feet of Neelix who was firing two phasers, holding the creatures at bay.

B’Elanna was surprised to discover that the Talaxian appeared almost noble as he stood firm, the final defense against the threat that darted about him. Beyond him, Harry Kim moved feebly, badly injured, while another Meuranato, Nouvat, seemed to be unconscious. Or perhaps he was dead as well.

The rescue team fell on the ghostlike creatures with a vengeance, the searing beams from their compression rifles making the beasts explode like rice paper in a candle flame, crashing to the dirt in smoking, flaming heaps. Neelix beamed as he saw the rest.

“Captain, I’m so glad to see you,” he said brightly, as if they had all been on a stroll in the park, and had just now run into each other.

“Not as glad as I am to see you, Neelix,” Janeway told him warmly. “Report.”

Neelix sobered. “We lost Larus, I’m afraid. Mr. Kim and Nouvat were injured by some large creature the size of a shuttlecraft, but we were able to fight it off to make it here, where we’ve been maintaining our defense perimeter as best we could.”

Tactical lingo, B’Elanna noted. Perhaps that time Neelix had spent in security hadn’t been wasted after all. Certainly, he had fought as well as any of beta squad who had been escorting them. B’Elanna was impressed, and felt a bit easier about accepting him into her engineering staff. It wasn’t that an ability in battle was a trait necessary in the engine room, but it helped.

“Where’s Margus,” Trell asked, looking around. “Dead?”

Neelix looked briefly uneasy. “No. At least, not as far as I know. When those things attacked she … uh, left us.”

B’Elanna thought you probably could have roasted marshmallows in the gaze that emanated from Janeway at that moment, but when she spoke, her voice was chill, like icicles shattering in an arctic wind.

“Why?”

“Something about a crystal, Captain,” Neelix related. “The Crystal of Being. She was sure it was on this level somewhere, and was determined to find it. We didn’t realize, until it was too late, that the whole time we thought she was leading us out, she was actually taking us deeper into the ruins.”

“Logically, we should leave her to her folly, Captain,” Tuvok noted calmly. B’Elanna saw from the faces of several others that they were in complete agreement. “She, after all, seems to be the only one who chose to come down here with full knowledge of what she was getting into.”

A muscle jumped in Janeway’s jaw. “No. Not without making an attempt. I need to do that much for Tarm. He is her father.”

“Understood.” Tuvok’s voice was absolutely no different than it would have been had she acceded to his suggestion. He motioned at his beta squad, and they unpacked two collapsible stretchers, bundling Lt. Kim and Nouvat onto them without much fanfare after doing what they could for the men’s injuries. Any further medical attention would have to wait until they returned to the surface.

They resumed their journey that seemed to have lasted years at this point to the Klingon, rather than just the 30 or so hours it probably had. B’Elanna frowned as Janeway once more supported her, Seven and Ro taking one of the stretchers while the other was manned by Neelix and Ryan. The rest took up their customary defensive positions, lights fully charged with fresh energy packs.

“Captain, the tour guides said this Crystal of Being had been destroyed,” B’Elanna muttered to Janeway.

“That’s just the government line,” Trell noted bitterly, having over heard her protest. “What they really do is use a portion of its power to maintain their own.”

“What does it do exactly?” Janeway asked between gritted teeth as she helped her engineer over a particularly rough part of the cavern.

“It’s a database, Captain,” Trell said. “Filled with the wisdom of the ages. To be able to utilize it grants a great advantage, but it is very dangerous for one person to attempt to link directly with it. It can overwhelm an individual, though it can grant them absolute power.”

“And absolute power corrupts absolutely,” Janeway said. “I’m beginning to understand now. Why didn’t Tarm tell us that?”

Trell made a face of dismissal. “He’s part of the Council. They rule for life, Captain, and take their secret to the grave. Most of our people are unaware the crystal still exists, and the Council fosters this belief.”

“Are they corrupt leaders?” Seven asked curiously.

“No,” Trell admitted reluctantly. “When care is taken to make sure that no single individual is exposed too much or for too long a time, then the crystal imparts only wisdom. It is the make up of the individual that determines how the wisdom is used.”

“I do not understand,” Seven complained. “This seems like a beneficial device. Why attempt to conceal its existence?”

“Because power is a lure, Seven,” Janeway said grimly. “Some people have need for it beyond the ordinary. They want it all.”

“Like Margus?”

“Apparently.” Janeway turned her attention back to Trell. “Can Tarm and the Council get down here?”

Trell hesitated. “They have a certain pendant that grants passage to the inner chamber, but they still need certain protection to get to this point, and they rarely need to actually see the crystal itself . The pendants are made from ‘splinters’ of the crystal that allows the Council members to tap into it in a limited fashion from the surface.” He looked briefly puzzled before his expression cleared. “I think she must have taken his to have reached so far.”

Neelix looked thoughtful. “She did seem somewhat immune to the attacks,” he offered, adjusting his grip on his end of Harry’s stretcher. “It was almost as if any wounds she received were accidental, in the heat of battle rather than deliberate attempts to bring her down, unlike how the creatures attacked the rest us.”

Janeway looked very dark all of sudden. “Tarm intended that we would all die down here, didn’t he?”

Trell looked thoughtful. “Perhaps. Or maybe he thought that because you were aliens, you could stop Margus.”

“You mean, do what he couldn’t bring himself to do,” B’Elanna said flatly. “Kill his own daughter.”

“No one’s going to be killed,” Janeway said sharply. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

They stumbled into a smaller corridor, and before them, lay the rectangular light of an open door. The team slowed and became quiet, stealthy, moving toward a chamber that was illuminated by an eerie glow. In the center, kneeling before a clear, large piece of rock that glowed with a golden light, they found Margus. Surrounding her were a nightmare assortment of creatures who observed her placidly, almost as if they were waiting to do her bidding.

Upon the Federation team’s entrance, she rose to her feet and faced them. Her eyes were translucent, reflecting that of the crystal itself, and her face was unnaturally calm, gleaming eerily as she stood, swaying as if from some internal wind.

B’Elanna felt a chill go right to her very core.

“This isn’t good,” Ro Laren murmured.

Janeway heard the Bajoran woman’s words, and agreed completely. She released B’Elanna, the chief engineer stumbling over to take up a position against the wall near some boulders where the other wounded were deposited, hopefully out of harm’s way. The Klingon hefted the phaser rifle the captain had handed her with determined intent, her eyes narrowed as she watched the Meuranato on the dais. Janeway took a deep breath and approached Margus cautiously, holding her hands out in a non-threatening position.

“Margus, we’re here to help.”

The Meuranato smiled blissfully. “You have already helped, Captain Janeway,” she said with benevolence. “Now we shall enter a new age of peace and understanding.”

Janeway exhaled slowly. “How so?”

“I will right everything that has been wrong on Meuranato.” The glow around her face seemed to intensify. Janeway developed a sick feeling in her stomach, and she was careful not to make any sudden moves.

“Is there really so much that’s wrong?” she asked carefully.

Margus beamed. “There is ignorance, Captain. The government limits themselves. All the wisdom of the crystal should be available to be used, not just a portion.” Her smile widened. “Indeed, we should bring this wisdom to our neighbors, bring them under the protection of our way.”

“Margus, who are you to say what is wrong with Meuranato?” Trell shouted, glaring at her. “Or anyone else? We have enjoyed a peaceful and prosperous life here for over five hundred years. I may not like some of the government’s policies, but this is madness.”

Janeway closed her eyes. Dear god. Furious, she shot a look at Tuvok, indicating that she wanted him to shut the Meuranato male up. The security chief moved forward, but it was too late, Margus’s full attention was taken by the aggressive male.

“You were always such a fool, Trell.” The blissful expression was gone. Now it was more predatory as she glared at him, and involuntarily, Janeway took a step back.

She felt the presence of her partner at her side, Seven raising her rifle protectively.

“Perhaps you should stay back, Captain.”

Janeway ignored the suggestion, and raised her hands in a calming motion.

“Please,” she said loudly. “Let’s not have this get out of hand.”

Margus turned to her. “You are wise, Captain Janeway,” she said, suddenly tranquil once more. “There is no longer need for conflict. All of you will understand once I have shown you the way.”

“Margus, you have no right.”

“Trell!” Janeway said with more emphasis than she wanted. “Please, allow me to handle this.”

He stared at her. “This is of the Meuranato, Captain Janeway. Not your business. Not your concern.”

She clamped down on the anger which rose within her. “When one of my people died in this little power play, when others were hurt, then it became my business.”

“I am sorry for your loss, Captain,” Margus said in that distant tone. “Some sacrifice was necessary to usher in this new era of prosperity. I regret Darnat and Larus’s deaths as well.”

“I’m sure that will be of great comfort to their families,” Trell said bitterly. “You’re no different from your father, Margus.”

That one struck hard, Janeway saw and the woman’s face twisted angrily.

“You are beginning to bore me, Trell,” she snarled and raised her hand. “I thought perhaps you were worthy of being my consort, but now I see you are as small minded as the rest.”

The nearest creature, something that looked vaguely like a bull mastiff, only twice as big with jaws the size of bear traps, lunged at Trell, snapping at his throat as the burly native fought him off. Ensign Ryan cried out a warning as she raised her rifle and fired, shooting it through the spine. Trell threw aside the dead remains with a cry of disgust, and staggered toward the dais.

Unfortunately, that seemed to set off the rest of the animals, and before Janeway quite knew what was happening, the chamber dissolved into chaos. Seven grabbed her partner, and hustled her over to where B’Elanna was maintaining a protective position over the unconscious men. Then, before Janeway could protest, Seven threw herself back into the fray with the others, firing steadily as she waded towards the creatures that had leaped on Ryan, bearing the security officer to the ground as they ripped and tore at her.

Horrified, Janeway pulled out her hand phaser, realizing she had no hope of retrieving her rifle from B’Elanna who was selecting her shots with care, a grin of Klingon glee etched on her features. To the captain’s right, Trell had bounded onto the dais where he struggled with Margus, though what he was intending, Janeway had no idea. Margus ducked his first rush neatly, then placed her hand against the crystal. It seemed to throb with power, and her eyes glowed brighter, apparently filling her with its energy. She glared at Trell, and suddenly, he was flung across the room, smashing into the far wall with a sickening pulpy sound that rose over the growls of the animals and the cries of the away team. The corpse left a bloody blue smear as it slid down the stone, and Janeway’s head whirled to meet the crystalline gaze of Margus.

The female’s upper lip was drawn back over her canines, showing the pointed teeth of the Meuranato species.

Janeway leveled her phaser at the woman.

“Call off the attack,” she warned. “Or I’ll fire.”

“Small minds,” Margus said, her voice dripping with scorn. “You no longer interest me, Captain, and since it’s clear you have thrown your lot in with Trell, feel free to join him.”

Furious, Janeway pressed the trigger on the phaser, the ruby beam of light lancing across the room to impact on the Meuranato … with no apparent effect. In the next second, it felt as if every synapse in Janeway’s body was on fire, pain dancing white hot along her nerve endings. The phaser dropped from spasming fingers, and she fell to her knees, screaming as she pressed her hands to her head that was threatening to fly apart at any second.

“Kathryn!”

Janeway dimly heard Seven’s voice through the red haze of pain, and vaguely realized that her people were turning their fire on Margus, which only washed off her like water from impenetrable rock. The captain tried to speak, to tell her people not to waste their energy. Margus was only a conduit, the real power lay elsewhere, but she could not make a sound. All she could do was writhe in agony, curling up into a ball in an effort to shield herself from the attack that was coming from within, a psychic rain of fire being deluged upon her.

“The crystal!” she heard as if from very far away, and knew at least one of her crew had figured it out. She thought it might have been Ro’s voice, and there was a white light that flashed about her. The pain within disappeared, and the pain outside began as a concussion buffeted her body.

She didn’t quite lose consciousness, but it was a very dark place in which she floundered before she was able to open her eyes.

Everything was silent, and she gasped, her body tingling unpleasantly as if circulation was finally being restored to it, pins and needles skittering along every inch of skin. She rolled over, rising unsteadily to her knees, her hand pressed against a boulder for support as she looked around dazedly. There was no one left standing, and motes of silver dust floated in the beam from her lamp. The dais was covered with sparkling slivers of crystal, all that remained of the large chunk, apparently having shattered beneath the combined fire of the away team. Crumpled before it, the unseeing, unknowing shell of the Meuranato known as Margus swayed back and forth, frothing around her lipless mouth as a low keening issued from her throat. Janeway knew instinctively that there was nothing left of the ambitious young woman, only a body that held no reason or intellect.

Painfully, Janeway rose to her feet and stumbled over to B’Elanna who was groaning audibly and trying weakly to get to her hands and knees. Other sounds filtered through the murky air as people regained consciousness, stirring amongst the furry heaps of unmoving animals that had apparently died when the crystal overloaded. The captain’s gaze swept the room, taking in her other injured crew who, ironically, had been the best shielded, tucked behind the outcropping of boulders. Harry’s eyelids moved, but the young man did not wake. Nouvat was blinking uncertainly at the destruction around him. Disbelievingly, the Meuranato reached out and picked up a crystal sliver and began to weep without tears, gazing at it with such incredible loss etched into his smooth features that Janeway was shaken to her core.

Becoming slightly more frantic, Janeway searched the rest of the room, picking out the body of Ensign Ryan who would never regain consciousness again, and the twisted form of Lt. Davis who needed prompt medical attention if he were to survive. Tuvok was already back on his feet, as was Lt. Ro and Neelix who were assisting Crell and Hickman to an upright position. Finally, she saw the unmoving, dark-clothed form of her partner, crumpled next to the dais. Seven had apparently been closest to the blast, and from the way she had been blown backward, she had taken the brunt of the crystal’s shattering. Janeway stumbled anxiously over to her, kneeling down beside Seven as she forgot about everyone else, not thinking about what had just happened, only that it had resulted in her partner lying so still.

Her fingers shook as she touched the leonine neck, her eyes closing in relief as she felt the steady flutter of a heartbeat. Seven moaned and stirred, her eyelids fluttering before they opened to reveal the ice blue orbs that warmed perceptively as they saw the worried features of the captain looming over her.

“Kathryn,” she whispered. “I was unconscious.”

“Yes,” Janeway responded, searching the Borg’s body anxiously. Miraculously, Seven seemed to have avoided being peppered by any of the debris from the blast. That was very odd, Janeway thought. They all should have been punctured by the deadly slivers of mineral as it exploded.

“Kathryn, look above us,” Seven said with wonder in her tone.

Bemused, Janeway did so, and her mouth dried as she saw that the explosion had somehow been channeled upward. The ceiling was thick with the various shards of crystal imbedded into the solid rock, indicating how powerful the blast had been. The slivers all over the floor must have broken off from the bottom of these deadly spears and merely fallen away, their deadly velocity blunted and thus, not the danger they could have been.

Janeway didn’t know how that had happened. Had it been a last command from Margus before her mind was destroyed, some final vestige of conscience from the young female? Or perhaps the crystal itself had some form of safety protocol imbedded within. The captain decided she would probably never know. But what else had she wrought this day? What had Voyager interfered with now? What had they really ended up destroying?

Wearily, she helped Seven to her feet, and then moved over to where the bloody body of Ensign Ryan lay. The creatures had gotten to her before the overload of the crystal had killed them, and sadly, the captain knelt beside the woman who seemed small in death, almost childlike.

Lt. Ro was already there, and the Bajoran’s dark eyes met the captain’s, shaking her head sorrowfully. “She was a good officer. I was proud to have served with her.”

“She died carrying out her duty,” Janeway responded bleakly. “It may not seem like much comfort, but she was very brave.” Her face softened. “Was she a friend?”

Ro’s face closed up. “No. I don’t have many friends.” Then she bowed her head. “But she was a good person and we worked together in beta squad for a long time.”

Janeway nodded and regained her feet, helped by Seven who had abruptly appeared beside her. With grey eyes, the captain looked around once more before being startled by a chirp from her communicator. They had been out of contact with the ship since entering the ruins, the bio-dampening field preventing their communicators or tricorders from functioning. Fortunately, their rifles had worked, though if they hadn’t, they wouldn’t have been able to enter the ruins in the first place. Totally different energy signature she supposed, and now that the crystal was destroyed, no doubt the bio-field was down as well.

“Voyager to Captain Janeway,” came the worried tones of her first officer. “Captain, can you read me?”

“Janeway here. Chakotay, are the transporters working?”

“Yes.” She could tell he had a multitude of questions, but professionally, he held on to them, awaiting her orders. “Our sensors are finally detecting you.”

She dipped her head. “On my mark, beam us directly to sickbay. We have seriously wounded, and dead. Contact the Meuranato. Inform them that we have wounded of theirs as well, and that we will debrief them as soon as possible.”

“Understood.”

Janeway dropped her hand, and looked over at the rest of her team who were helping the wounded as best they could in preparation for transport. She cleared her throat, and touched her comm badge once more.

“Energize.”

The last thing she saw was the blackened and cracked dais that no longer bore the true seat of power for this world’s government.

Seven looked up from the data padds spread across the coffee table as the door hissed open and her spouse walked into their quarters. Without saying a word, Janeway moved to the couch where the Borg was sitting, scattering the padds from her hands onto the floor, and crawling onto Seven’s lap. Unsurprised, Seven wrapped her arms tightly about the compact form, and tucked the auburn head under her chin, cradling her lovingly.

“Kathryn?” she prompted softly, after a long period of time passed when all she did was hold the captain as closely to her as she could.

“I didn’t want it to end that way,” Janeway said sadly, softly.

Seven knew exactly what her spouse was talking about. “Margus left you no other option.”

Janeway sniffed slightly, though Seven did not think she was crying, and settled deeper into the embrace.

“I should have found another way.”

Seven had come to understand that the captain always experienced these doubts and recriminations after every mission, but until recently, Janeway had never revealed them to anyone. The Borg was honored to be the one Janeway confided in, even if it was sometimes difficult for Seven to come up with a way to console her. Mostly, she knew that her role was simply to listen and offer Janeway her support, however she could.

“You did what you had to. You offered her every opportunity to communicate with us. It is clear to me that Margus used Voyager’s arrival in this system for her own pursuits. Certainly, if it had not been our away team, it would have been another group of aliens, perhaps less qualified to handle it in such a way that so few were harmed.”

Janeway did not reply, and Seven hoped this meant the captain was thinking about her words, and possibly even accepting them. Seven did not have the power to grant Janeway absolution, but sometimes, she was able to help the captain forgive herself when Janeway was feeling particularly lost and uncertain.

The Borg was only beginning to comprehend all the levels of this interaction, but it gave her a sense of being needed in a way that she had never before experienced. The Collective required no single individual for its continued functioning, not even the queen. As Kathryn’s partner, Seven had become a vital part of the relationship’s whole, incapable of being replaced, and the longer she was with Kathryn, the more she discovered about herself. It was an ongoing process, and each new layer uncovered pushed her further along the path she was pursuing … though where it would ultimately lead her, she wasn’t sure.

“Were the Meuranato particularly angry?”

Janeway managed a wry grin, but it looked very painful. “Let’s just say that Voyager is not going to be welcomed here ever again. We’re going to have to find our ore somewhere else.”

Seven rubbed the captain’s back gently. “How is Davis?”

Janeway sighed. “He’ll live. In fact, he should be on his feet in a few days.” She hesitated. “Still, this one cost, Annika … far too much. I’ve just spent two hours in my ready room composing the eulogies for the memorial service tomorrow. Lt. Briggs and Ensign Ryan were good people. They deserved better than this.”

Seven pulled her closer. Eulogies were exactly the sort of task Janeway found excruciatingly difficult, and such a necessity tended to make her introspective for days. Seven searched for something to say, something that would make this all right even as she knew she could not. Gently, she kissed the captain’s temple.

“Kathryn, I am here for you.” It was the best she could come up with.

But it seemed enough for the moment, and she felt Janeway relax a little in her arms, her body no longer the tight bow string it had been upon entering their quarters.

There was another silence. “I worry sometimes.”

Seven quirked an eyebrow. “About?”

Janeway hesitated. “Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely.”

“Yes, you said this in the tunnels. Is it a Human ‘saying’?”

“It’s happened so many times in our history. I applied that same Human presumption about Margus, but perhaps I was wrong.”

Seven hugged her tighter. “You saw what she did to Trell. Despite all the wisdom she received from the crystal, she still allowed base emotion to rule her. The Meuranato’s own archives substantiate a history of individuals being corrupted by power, just as Humans have. Indeed, that was why the Meuranato evolved into being ruled by a Council rather than by a monarch.”

Janeway was silent, and Seven wondered what she might be thinking.

“Some might say I have ultimate power as the sole Starfleet representative in the Delta Quadrant.”

Seven considered that. “You worry that it is corrupting you?”

“I don’t know,” Janeway responded honestly. “I’ve done things … things I’m not sure I would have been as quick to do had I someone higher in authority to answer to.”

“Such as?”

“Sever you from the Collective, for example.”

Seven was alarmed. “You do not regret that?”

“No, never,” Janeway said soothingly, hugging the Borg’s neck tightly. “But I still imposed my will on you, even when you demanded to be returned to the Borg. I took away your choices, Seven, and maybe it was for all the best reasons and intentions in the world, but I still presumed to make that decision because the four pips I wear allowed me to.” She swallowed convulsively. “Maybe Margus would have the same intentions, and had the power to back them up, yet I sided with Trell. I determined that she didn’t have the right to decide what was best for her people, even though I do it for mine every single day. The difference is only in degree, not in the assumption of that power.”

Seven searched for the words to counter that.

“Kathryn, you earned your power. Margus attempted to seize it. There is a difference.”

“Perhaps,” Janeway said softly.

“I comprehend the reasons you severed me from the Collective,” Seven continued. “Every moment I am grateful for it. I told you that you were no different from the Borg, that you were denying me your basic human right; to chose my own fate, but now I know I would have chosen incorrectly. I would have returned to the Collective and denied myself the life that makes me so happy now.”

“But maybe I was wrong to take the choice from you, Annika,” Janeway whispered. “I believed that you didn’t have the capacity to chose wisely, but that was exactly what Margus believed about her people. The Meuranato Council believed it as well, which is why they used the crystal and kept it from public knowledge. There’s no difference.”

Seven stroked the captain’s hair gently, feeling sadness echo through her at the captain’s struggle to come to terms with this.

“I do not have the words to make this right.”

Janeway drew back a little so she could look into Seven’s face. “I know,” she said finally, after searching her eyes. “No one really does. It’s just a matter of knowing where to draw the line, and I guess I’m afraid because I think I’ve crossed it more than once out here in the Delta Quadrant.”

Seven bent her head, resting her forehead against Janeway’s. “If you have, it was out of compassion, Kathryn. You must not forget that. Furthermore, you accept that there are consequences for your actions. You cross the line only because you feel you have no other choice.”

“I don’t know anymore, Annika.”

“Yes, you do,” Seven said with certainty. “That is why you are captain. We believe in you. I believe in you.”

Janeway looked at her for a long moment before she smiled tremulously. “Thank you, darling.”

Seven felt a sense of satisfaction flow through her. She didn’t know if what she said truly helped, but the captain seemed easier with it now, and that was all that mattered. Janeway snuggled down again into the embrace, and Seven basked in the warmth of her body against hers.

“Annika, do you still want to join Starfleet?” Janeway asked, after another, far more comfortable silence had passed.

Seven quirked her eyebrow slightly. The Borg was not in the habit of changing her mind once she had decided she was going to accomplish something. She was surprised that her partner had forgotten that. “I do.”

“I spoke with Chakotay and Tuvok about it after the debriefing. I would like you to start immediately, if that’s all right with you.”

“Acceptable.”

“I’ll provide a list of texts that I want you to study prior to your first round of classes.” The captain took a breath. “It won’t be easy.”

“I do not expect it to be.” Seven paused. “Are you attempting to dissuade me?”

Janeway smiled wistfully. “No, darling. I just want this to be entirely your decision. I don’t want you to do it because of me.”

Seven decided that it would not be wise to reply to that with her initial response; that most of what she did was completely because of Kathryn. Her very existence was because of the vibrant little captain, but lately Seven had come to realize it bothered her partner when she said things like that. In this instance, she chose not to, searching for another honest, if less accurate, rejoinder.

“I wish to do it because it will allow me to perform better in my role on this vessel,” she said finally. “And because it will be a challenge. I enjoy challenges.”

Janeway sighed softly, with what seemed relief. “I’m glad, darling.”

Seven felt Kathryn kiss her neck, and knew that her partner was still seeking a comfort that only she could provide. She gathered her up in her arms, and carefully rose from the sofa.

“Annika?” Kathryn’s voice was questioning, but not particularly startled, or protesting.

“I believe it is time that we retired for the evening,” Seven responded, carrying her through the living area into the bedroom.

“Ah,” Janeway said, wrapping her arms around the Borg’s shoulders, and resting her head against hers. “What about your work?”

“It can wait,” Seven said, not looking back at the discarded padds littering the floor.

“I think you’re developing some bad habits,” Janeway murmured as she smiled and nuzzled into the young woman’s neck, apparently content to let Seven take care of her this evening. It delighted the young woman, because she knew it was not something Janeway was entirely comfortable with.

“Do you object?” Seven asked as she lowered her onto the mattress.

Janeway immediately rolled out of bed much to the Borg’s bemusement. “Not at all, darling, but first, I want to take a shower. I’ve been in debriefings all day.”

Seven had showered and changed earlier in the evening, and as Janeway disappeared into the ensuite, the Borg removed the silken grey pyjamas she was wearing and slipped naked between the sheets. Linking her hands behind her head, she studied the ceiling idly, listening to the subtle noises of Janeway performing the rest of her ablutions, enjoying the sounds of routine and home. When the captain finally came out, she was wearing a warm, blue terrycloth robe and brushing out her auburn hair briskly.

Seven watched with interest as the captain finally removed the robe and slid into bed next to Seven, snuggling up against the young woman’s side. For long moments, they lay together quietly, Seven’s left arm wrapped around the captain’s shoulders, her other hand slowly stroking Janeway’s forearm that was draped across her chest.

“I am surprised,” Seven said finally.

“About?”

“I thought you would be … more amorous. You usually are after a mission.”

“It’s been a tough time,” Janeway said quietly. “I guess I just want you to hold me, tonight.”

“Then I shall,” Seven promised, tightening her grasp.

There was another pause, and Seven became aware of the captain’s hand casually inching over until it was covering her right breast.

“I thought you said you just wanted me to hold you?”

“Is this somehow preventing that?” Janeway responded innocently, her palm gently chafing the nipple that stiffened immediately.

Seven smiled into the dark. “I do not believe so.” She wondered how long Janeway would be able to maintain this illusion that all she wished to do was rest. The Borg felt the hand squeeze her breast gently, then withdraw slightly to allow the captain’s fingertips to fondle the nipple.

Not very long at all, she decided.

Janeway woke as the morning watch illumination came up, the precise tones from the computer indicating the time. She inhaled and stretched, pleasantly languid. It had taken her awhile to become aroused the previous night, but once she started, she hadn’t wanted to stop, needing to wash away the bad taste of the past mission by immersing herself in her partner. Now, Seven lay curled up on her side of the bed, her head resting on her hands tucked under her cheek, looking rather like an exhausted angel. She hadn’t even stirred at the computer’s wake up call. Somewhat shame-faced … though smugly so … Janeway touched the controls set in the recess at the head of the bed, disengaging the secondary alarm that would have sounded in another half hour. Then she logged them both off duty for the day, tapping in a few more commands to accord the rest of the Meuranato away team, including the surviving members of Tuvok’s beta squad, three extra days of R&R, ten extra replicator rations per day during that time, and a note to add commendations to all their records.

That done, she rolled over and wrapped herself around the slumbering Borg as she allowed herself to drift off to sleep once more

When she woke the second time, Seven was still snoozing peacefully, this time on her belly, her long hair falling down to obscure her face as the captain sprawled over her back. Janeway smiled lazily, and carefully brushed the blond strands away from Seven’s face, reaching down to gently kiss along the line of cheek and around the ocular implant. Seven made a soft sound, a tiny mew of pleasure, and Janeway pressed herself onto the lanky woman.

“Shh,” she whispered. “It’s just me. Go back to sleep.”

“That is rather difficult to do,” Seven noted dryly as Janeway nibbled at her ear, running her hand over the Borg’s sinuous spine, her nipples prodding into it provocatively, “since it is clear that you have no intention of returning to sleep yourself.”

“Then just relax and let me do all the work, sweetheart,” she murmured invitingly. “You deserve it.”

“Very well,” Seven surrendered, wiggling slightly as Janeway bent her fingers, enabling her nails to scratch lightly up and down the spine. “For this one occasion.”

Janeway laughed and applied herself to her task. There were two forms of back scratching she had developed for her beloved; the first where she completely indulged the young woman, long, luscious strokes that Seven literally wallowed under, basking in the treat. The second was a light, almost tickling caress that aroused the young woman, making her squirm. It was this method Janeway was using now; teasing passes over the smooth skin with only the gentlest of pressure. While she did that, she kissed and nuzzled the Borg’s ear and neck, nibbling the smooth edge of her jaw, moving over her with wanton intent. She reached over, and retrieved a pillow from her side of the bed and at her gentle urging, Seven rose up briefly so that Janeway could tuck it under the Borg’s tummy, giving the captain space to move as she reached down and around to Seven’s belly, stroking the Borg’s navel, and then lower, through the thin strands of blonde triangle.

Seven let out her breath with a moan as Janeway slipped her fingertips along the Borg’s crease, touching the sensitive ridge gently, dipping into the wetness and spreading it around the tender flesh. Janeway was impressed by the amount of moisture, and nuzzled into the back of Seven’s neck, her whole weight resting on top of the young woman. Seven didn’t seem to mind, arching up into her. With her other hand, Janeway reached down to Seven from behind, slipping her index finger into the young woman, pressing directly onto the smooth little area inside.

“Oh Kathryn,” Seven gasped, sounding somewhat astonished.

“You like that?” Janeway said huskily into her ear, flexing intimately inside her, her other hand increasing its caress of the little nodule.

“Oh yes,” Seven moaned. “It feels so good.”

Janeway’s lips drew back from her teeth as her body pressed heavily onto her partner’s. It wasn’t the most graceful of positions, but there was no question of its effectiveness and it wasn’t long before Seven was curling up beneath Janeway, fighting for breath. Shudders rippled through her as she whispered her lover’s name over and over until finally she escaped Janeway’s grasp, rolling over and pulling the captain down onto her, kissing her deeply. Janeway was effectively trapped in those powerful arms, and she returned the kiss eagerly, somewhat surprised at the response but very pleased none the less.

“You are …” Seven began, then trailed off.

Janeway waited and then realized that words had completely failed her partner and she laughed joyfully. “I am … the most fortunate woman in the universe to have my Annika,” she finished for her.

Seven blinked. “That was not what I was going to say.”

Janeway kissed her. “But it was accurate.” She sat up until she was straddling the young woman, looking down at her. “Now, I require a little attention myself.”

Seven eyed her with amusement. “Did you have something specific in mind?”

Janeway pondered it. “I think …” she began thoughtfully.

“That you want me to do this,” Seven finished for her, reaching down to cup Janeway’s buttocks and easily lifting her in the air, pulling her up until she was positioned directly over the young woman’s mouth.

Breathless, wide-eyed, Janeway grabbed for the lip of the window above the bed to catch her balance as she felt the warm breath from her partner flow over her most intimate regions.

“Why, yes,” she admitted, stifling her laughter, “Just what I was about to suggest.” She purred happily as she felt the tip of Seven’s tongue flick out, and lightly stroke along the bundle of nerves throbbing with sensitivity. “I taught you that one.”

There was a mild snicker from the vicinity of her groin, and Janeway quirked an eyebrow.

“I did,” she insisted in a softer voice, her words turning into a sigh as the Borg’s touch spread through her like wildfire.

Seven did not respond which, as far as the captain was concerned, was perfectly acceptable. After all, she hardly wanted the Borg to pause in what she was currently doing just to argue with her about who taught what to whom. Janeway leaned her arms onto the ledge of the window, and watched the stars go by, streaking past in the distortion of her ship’s warp field as she reveled in the sensation of her lover’s mouth on her. Finally, it washed over her, the stars whirling away into the darkness of space as a bright light filled her head, and there was nothing but her and Seven, connected in a pleasure that completely consumed her.

She wasn’t sure exactly what happened next, suspecting that perhaps she had lost track of things somewhat, but abruptly she was once again in Seven’s arms, submerged in a kiss so wonderfully absorbing that she decided that there could be nothing better than this, her own flavor mingling with Seven’s on those full, intoxicating lips.

“You’re so incredible, my darling.” Janeway kissed her spouse, lingering over that very talented and skilled mouth. She was suddenly very close to tears, though she didn’t know why. “Without you, all the light in my existence would disappear.”

Seven was clearly pleased at the sentiment, though it was doubtful she completely understood what light Janeway was talking about … but then, how could she when Janeway didn’t quite understand it herself? She only knew it was true.

They relaxed into the tangled linens, cuddled together in the center of the bed. Seven glanced up at the time, shot a look at Janeway, but did not comment. It was apparent that if the captain was content to laze the day away in bed, so was the Borg.

“Are you hungry?” Janeway asked, taking a moment to note the time herself.

“Perhaps a little.” Seven paused, and a small smile played about her mouth. “I have expended a great deal of energy recently.”

Janeway rolled out of bed. “Let me make breakfast for us this morning, for a change.”

“Morning?” Seven queried as the captain padded naked out to the replicator.

The captain smiled, but didn’t respond, programming in some light food that could be eaten in bed without leaving too much of a mess. She returned to the bedroom laden with a platter of fruit, dips and muffins, along with a bottle of wine. Seven pursed her lips when she saw the repast.

“That is not a proper breakfast,” she noted dryly. “Perhaps you should not be allowed near a replicator.”

Janeway made a face at her, and dipped a strawberry in chocolate sauce. She eyed Seven archly as she ate it, the Borg watching her with interest. Then the captain smiled and very deliberately, leaned forward and dipped two of her fingers into in the sauce, tracing a smear of dark chocolate across her nipples before looking at the Borg challengingly.

Seven’s eyebrow was doing its best to crawl off her forehead.

“I retract my statement,” the Borg said evenly. “It is indeed, a proper meal.”

She reached out for her spouse and proceeded to enjoy her breakfast.

Epilogue

B’Elanna Torres tried to look casual as she lingered in the corridor outside one of the conference rooms on deck two where Tuvok was holding his regular weekly briefing with his department. The door abruptly opened and a rush of officers, laughing and chattering, left the room, followed by the Vulcan who favored the Klingon with a quirked eyebrow as he passed. Tuvok did not say anything to her, for which she was supremely grateful.

She frowned, wondering if she had missed her in the crowd, and then felt a trifle lightheaded when Lt. Ro finally exited, carrying a stack of padds. It occurred to B’Elanna that this was like something out of the Academy, when things were incredibly awkward and so exciting at the same time, hating the feeling even as she reveled in it.

“Lt. Torres,” Ro said with some surprise, pausing as she saw the woman. “Can I help you?”

“I just wanted to stop by and thank you again for fixing my leg,” B’Elanna said, trying not to wince at opening the conversation with something so incredibly lame.

Ro stared at her. “You’ve already thanked me for that.”

“I know … uh, it’s like a blood debt, you know?”

Ro Laren tilted her head. “Actually, I don’t,” she admitted. “The only Klingon I knew was Lt. Worf and I didn’t know him very well before I … left.”

“Oh,” B’Elanna mumbled, castigating herself for bringing up what could be possibly painful memories for the woman.

“Is there a point to this, Lieutenant?”

B’Elanna took a breath. “I was wondering, if you’re not too busy, if you might like to catch a bite with me in the messhall,” she said in a rush. “You’re off duty now, right?”

Ro blinked, obviously surprised. Then she looked away, seeming uncomfortable suddenly.

“Torres, you should know, I’m not really … well, attracted to women.”

B’Elanna nodded. “That’s okay.” She hesitated, then added boldly, if a trifle inaccurately, “Neither was I … until now.”

Ro’s head went back a little, and she seemed to be thinking it over. “All right, but I can’t promise anything.” She paused. “Hell, I couldn’t promise anything if you were male.”

B’Elanna shook her head. “I’m not asking for promises. I just thought we could … see where it goes. Even if it doesn’t go … anywhere in particular, well, hey, you can’t have too many friends, right?”

Ro looked a little bemused. “I wouldn’t know.”

“Maybe it’s time to find out,” B’Elanna offered in a much gentler voice.

Ro nodded. “Maybe.”

Somewhere between the darkness of the past and the light of the future, two people reached out.

Just to see what would happen.

The End

Back to Season Two

On to Season Three

Table of Contents

Epilogue