"You have a date with Seven, MY SEVEN!" Kathryn barked at her sister.
"Oh, all of a sudden she's your Seven. You haven't said her name once in the 2 months you have been home."
"Well you need to cancel the date now, Phoebe." Kathryn commanded.
"Give me one good reason why?"
"Seven is not gay!"
"Then why did she ask me out?" Phoebe asked proudly.
"You can't sleep with her. She is a virgin."
"Good grief Kathryn, it's just our first date"
"You can't go out with her because, well because, Seven is married."
"MARRIED! She never mentioned that!"
"Well technically she is separated and even though the separation was her idea she was hurt terribly." Kathryn whispered as she turned her back to her sister.
"She fell in love and married some guy while on Voyager."
Yes, I mean no, she married a woman but I don't think she ever fell in love. A hint of sorrow followed Kathryn's words.
Phoebe eyes widened "So you are saying I can't go out with Seven because she is a straight woman married to a woman she never loved, never slept with, separated from but may not really want to divorce. Why didn't you just say that in the first place?"
'Now we are making some headway." Kathryn pronounced feeling like she was negotiating with a new species.
"What kind of dumb ass woman could get Seven to marry her, not sleep with her and then hurt her like that? Phoebe shouted trying to startle her sister back into the conversation.
Kathryn winced. In all these years she had never showed her fear to the enemy. She turned slowly and with a trembling voice she proclaimed "I am the dumb ass woman, Phoebe. I am the one."
From the great Atlantic Ocean
To the wide pacific shore
From sunny California
To ice-bound Labrador
She’s mighty, tall, and handsome,
She’s loved by one and all
She’s the hobo’s ‘commodation,
The Wabash Cannonball
Listen to the jingle,
The rumble and the roar
As she glides along the woodlands,
Through hills and by the shore
Hear the mighty rush of the engine
Hear those lonesome hobos squall
While trav’ling through the jungle
On the Wabash Cannonball
Our eastern states are dandy
So the people always say
From new York to St. Louis
And Chicago by the way
Through the hills of Minnesota
Where the rippling waters fall
No chances can be taken
On the Wabash Cannonball
Listen to the jungle
The rumble and the roar
As she glides along the woodlands,
Through hills and by the shore
Hear the mighty rush of the engine,
Hear those lonesome hobos squall
While trv’ling through the jungle
On the Wabash Cannonball
Now here’s to daddy Claxton
May his name forever stand
He’ll always be remembered
In the courts throughout the land
His earthly race is over
And the curtain round him falls
Carryin’ him home to victory
On the Wabash Cannonball. -Anon-
It bounced.
Then, when it was spit through the portal, it RANG!
Initial velocity a mere fifteen seconds ago had been close to 3,600 KPS, or subspace
speeds. It had since then braked to a
mere fraction of subspace, just 330 KPS.
Even so the perfectly globular object about the size of a baseball had
hit the thin upper atmosphere as if it had encountered a solid metal wall. As the atmosphere was unable to get out of
the way in time, the effect was akin to that of the irresistible force striking
the famous immovable object. The front
of the ball dumped speed in the form of kinetic heat, shock wave, and noise,
even while the rear of the ball was still going 380 KPS. That was why it RANG!
Nothing
living could have survived unprotected such a vicious deceleration. Indeed, all ordinary metals would have
instantly melted and gasified under the stupendous impact.
The
ball was made of sterner stuff.
It
glowed like a tiny sun for a few nanoseconds, stunningly bright against the
darkness of space. Also, the clear bell
note of entry was audible for ninety kilometers. As it was 314 kilometers up from the surface of the planet below
it, no one heard. If anyone down below
noted, they presumed the bright flash and meteor’s trail following denoted yet
another piece of metallic stone dying violently in the sky overhead.
As
the ball fell, it slowed, and vanes appeared on the surface, further retarding
the fall. It observed the planet below
it, orienting itself as to position.
Once position had been firmly established, it extended the rudimentary
vanes until they were close to being wings.
As it fell the hundreds of kilometers down, it maneuvered itself 191
kilometers to TransPolar 51 degrees, 33 minutes and 3 seconds E. by S.E. It had someplace to go and a hunger to go
there immediately.
Eventually
its wings gradually broadened, and a maneuverable tail grew behind it. It descended to the point where it overflew
fields and forests, towns and wild animals.
One Cooper’s Hawk attacked it, but cawed in distress once it realized it
had assaulted nothing living.
Then
it banked to softly land in the arms of an apple tree outside a centuries-old
farmhouse. Its coloration faded to a
brownish-green hue, and ports opened in the ball.
In
the area in front of the building a diminutive woman, with auburn hair mixed
with a touch of gray, exited a small flyer.
A type of fluoro-carbon polymer molecular chain within the ball
re-sequenced itself. One might say it
clucked in satisfaction.
Part
of the ball’s round surface seemingly melted, exposing nine diminutive
objects. These objects unfolded
themselves and crawled out onto the ball surface. They looked much like ordinary houseflies, even though they were
made of molecule chains closer to the material of neutron stars than mere
insectoid flesh.
Three
such houseflies flew into the air, and immediately gained entry into the
farmhouse via a dog portal. Inside,
they followed the sound of voices until it came to a room where two women
were. They hid in plain sight, in far
corners, being the proverbial flies on the wall.
---------------------------
Phoebe
was mostly nude, and was viewing herself in a full-length mirror set into the
wall.
“I’m
glad you’re here, Kat,” Phoebe said.
“Do you think I should go with this teal one that leaves both nipples
bare, or this transparent tule blouse?
The nipples bare one is very chic right now. For those with the breasts that can stand exposure. After my damned surgery I certainly want to
flaunt what I have.”
Phoebe
twisted and examined herself. “I’ve got
a date with that vastly edible Seven of yours and I want to make a good
impression. By the bye, that was
extremely generous of you to introduce me to her via the Comm, so I could chat
her up.”
“You
can’t make a good impression,” Kathryn said.
“Excuse
me?”
“You
have a date with Seven, MY SEVEN!” Kathryn barked at her sister.
“Oh,
all of a sudden she’s your Seven. You
haven’t said her name once in the two months you have been home.”
“She
only moved to Terre Haute last week,” Kathryn explained. “It didn’t seem to matter where she was
until then. Then I got the Comm call
from Seven, and went off to see her Tuesday.
Only day before yesterday.
“Until
then I thought she was still off-planet.”
“So? She’s here now, and it’s my lucky day now,”
Phoebe added.
“Well,
you need to cancel the date now, Phoebe,” Kathryn commanded.
“Give
me one good reason why?”
“Seven
is not gay!”
“Then
why did she ask me out?” Phoebe asked proudly.
“Maybe I was deluded, but she knew I was coming on to all of her
gorgeous package, when we met for lunch yesterday, and she wasn’t backing away
from me and my dykey ways at 100 KPS.
I, well, she enjoyed my attentions.”
“You
can’t sleep with her. She is a virgin.”
“Good
grief, Kathryn, it’s just our first date.
Real date. Though we are going
to the ‘Upstairs’ in Paducah, you know, the dance and dinner place. Seven knows it’s a gay bar.”
“You
can’t go out with her because, well, Seven is married.”
“MARRIED! She never mentioned that!”
“Well,
technically she is separated and even though the separation was her idea she
was hurt terribly.” Kathryn whispered
as she turned back to her sister.
“She
fell in love and married some guy while on VOYAGER?”
“Yes,
I mean no, she married a woman but I don’t think she ever fell in love.” A hint of sorrow followed Kathryn’s words.
Phoebe’s
eyes widened. “So you are saying I
can’t go out with Seven, who is a straight woman, married to a woman she never
loved, never slept with, and is separated from, but may not really want to
divorce. Why didn’t you just say that in
the first place?”
“Now
we are making some headway,” Kathryn pronounced. Feeling like she was negotiating with a new species.
“What
kind of a dumb ass woman could get Seven to marry her, not sleep with her, and
then hurt her like that?” Phoebe
shouted, trying to startle her sister back into the conversation.
Kathryn
winced. In all these years she had
never shown her fear to the enemy. She
turned slowly, and with a trembling voice she proclaimed: “I am the dumb ass
woman, Phoebe. I am the one.”
“You
are bloody kidding me,” Phoebe said. “You’ve
got a wife who looks and struts like a brick starship, and you didn’t care she
was back from ..... where?”
“Alpha
Centauri,” Kathryn supplied.
“You
didn’t know where exactly your wife was until last week, and now I’m supposed
to back off because you have prior rights or something?”
“Something,”
Kathryn admitted.
“You’re
crazy, big sister. But fortunately I am
not, and I hope to fill my hands with that big gorgeous backside of hers when
we dance. She was made for loving, and
if you were stupid enough to leave her in your damned celibate mental convent
for damned spiritual guidance, well, by now she’s probably damned well and
truly ripe for some good old fashioned foreplay. Which I damned well intend to lavish on her until she begins to
melt.”
“She’s
mine, Phoebe!”
“Then
we’ll let her decide. How about that?”
-------------------------------------
The flies on the wall listened with neither boredom nor interest for the next
fourteen minutes as the two women argued and cried and came close to screaming.
Eventually
the slightly smaller one stormed out of the house, though she was sane enough
not to feel the need to slam the door in passing. She jumped into her flic for immediate lift-off. Destination: Terre Haute.
Behind her seat clung four more of the housefly replicants.
------------------------------------
Kathryn
stormed into the lobby of the one and only Hotel in southern and central
Indiana. Already asking the Roboclerk
to inform Seven of Nine that she must talk with her wife. Now.
She
was obviously rocked back on her heels to discover Seven was not in. She hadn’t thought about that possibility,
and she was more than likely momentarily afraid Seven might be avoiding her.
The
Roboclerk then added that she was in Tolano, Illinois. Wherever that was.
She
never noticed the two houseflies who had followed her inside. She also never noticed they had some
difficulty getting back into the flic before Kathryn lifted off at high speed.
From
Kathryn’s control panel a high-pitched voice informed her she had now received
two traffic citations for her unwarranted and abrupt take-off.
The
CompNet took her to Tolano, which was just a wide place in the trail, so far as
Kathryn could see. Nothing for
kilometers and kilometers but more kilometers and kilometers.
Exiting
the flic, she realized she had never asked Seven what she was doing in Indiana.
She
was building a Railroad Station.
There
were two Heavy Lifters already there disgorging their cargoes, and several
vermiform automatons were working feverishly on constructing a perfect
anachronism.
Seven
watched Kathryn stare at the archaic architectural marvel, a small frown
playing on her face. Seven was standing
in front of a chest-high pillar, and her fingers played easily over the control
panel mounted on the pedestal.
Kathryn
wandered closer, ignoring the spindly or bulbous robots that automatically
either moved out of her way, or shut down for safety’s sake when she came too
near.
“It’s
a Railroad Station,” Seven explained.
“In this case it follows the template suggested in a pair of ancient photographs
uncovered by Computer. When it is
completed, this recreation will appear to be the same Railroad Station that was
built originally in 1890 A.D.”
Neither
woman noticed the two strange houseflies nearby.
“A
Railroad Station was a structure built on the right-of-way of a railroad to
facilitate the transfer of cargo and passengers. The train stopped in an appropriate spot on the tracks, and the
transfers were made.”
A
large weather-beaten sign was affixed to the eave of the Station, telling any
who read it that this was ‘TOLANO’ Station.
It
had just been glue-welded in place by one of the spindly robots, but it now had
the appearance of being bolted to the ceiling of the roof.
“I
know what a Railroad Station is,” Kathryn answered. “What I’d like to know is, where’s the Railroad?”
Seven
pointed to the southwest, a small tight smile finally playing on her lips. “That-a-way,” she drawled. “It’s a-comin’ on fast with a right powerful
head of steam up.”
Kathryn’s
eyes bugged a bit before she got her Command Face And somehow put Frown #6 into
place. The Hurricane Level face.
In
it’s time, dozens of Alien species and not a few Lieutenants had quailed before
that stern visage. Quite undisturbed,
Seven went back to tapping and coursing commands into her pedestal board.
“You
have changed quite a bit,” Janeway finally managed. “Before we brought VOYAGER home, you couldn’t manage a fake
accent or colloquialisms, either one.
Much less a drawl.” Janeway drew
a step closer and lightly touched Seven on her arm.
“You
also learned something about fashion, in case I didn’t mention it the other
day. You’re very integrated into the
human collective. I love your teal
sleeveless jumper. Sets off that
magnificent figure of yours wonderfully.”
Seven
briefly touched Janeway’s hand as it lingered on her arm.
“On
the ship you never gave me a compliment like that. Yesterday you never even noticed my culotte suit. But I’m glad to receive one now. Wasn’t I pretty back then?”
Janeway
hesitated, obviously confused.
“I’m
working on the railroad,” Seven continued.
“I also still need considerable improvement on my social skills.” With that, she shut down the board, and
turned to give Janeway her full attention.
“Hello
..... Darling,” Seven began. She
presented her cheek and Kathryn jerkily kissed her for a second. “I’m glad to see you again so soon. We didn’t spend nearly enough time together
the other day, and I feel that as your wife we should re-learn to live with
each other again.
“Starting
with myself being more polite.” She
lightly touched Kathryn on the forearm, before moving towards the Railroad
Station. A little dazed again, Kathryn
followed.
“Come
on, let me show you around.” She managed
a shy smile. “It’s not a very important
job I have, at the moment, but is a fascinating part of a larger project.”
The
pair ascended a side ramp and tramped across the platform. Janeway was amazed to find Seven holding her
hand during their short tour.
The
platform resonated with the sound of feet on wooden slats, even though Janeway
had just watched worker robots glue-weld sheets of compollodial plastic into
place. The paint on the walls was many
layered and chipping. Old worn paper
notices and schedules testified to the efficiency of the Wabash Railroad. A few of the notices were yellow with age,
and again you could see layers of paint, wear, and chipping on every supposed
wooden and metal surface.
Inside,
in the Waiting Room, a few tiny cobwebs were in the high corners. Otherwise the clean floor was a testament to
the brooms and labor of the Station Master.
Behind
the bars of the ticket window a thin bearded man could be seen reading a
penny-dreadful. He glanced up as Seven
and Kathryn entered the Waiting area, but when neither one came to purchase a
ticket or send a telegram, he went back to his paper-bound novel.
Behind
the robot Station master Kathryn could see rolling vistas of ash, poplar and
prairie. The rear wall of the Station,
as well as most of its roof and side walls, were yet to be added to the
structure.
The
‘aged’ windows of the station were clean, but two of the panes had cracks. All gave a slightly warped view of the
outside, due to the cheap plate glass used in them. A box-like robot still stood to one side, ready to finish
imparting years of wear to the floors and other ‘wood’, whenever Seven went
back to her control board.
Ticket
rates for Detroit or St. Louis (or any point in between), hung alongside the
ticket window, and freight rates as well.
It cost two dollars and seventy cents to ride from Tolano all the way to
Detroit.
“At
the end of the day the robotic Station Master will turn off the lights,” Seven
said, “and in the winter, stoke the realistic pot-bellied stove to last the
night. We debated adding a life-like
little yellow robot dog, but decided against it. Do you like it? It’s all
constructed on my own design pattern.
I’ve made a dozen and a half templates, and Stations like this are being
created along the entire route.
Seventy-two little stations between St. Louis and Detroit.”
“There’s
no railroad, and hasn’t been for ..... what?
Three hundred years? What on
Earth are they FOR?”
“They
are atmosphere,” Seven explained. “They
are objects for the passengers to admire as they journey by. They’re also someplace where living
passengers can actually leave or board the train.”
Suddenly
Kathryn was alongside Seven again, both hands lightly touching her arm.
“Please
don’t go out with Phoebe,” she blurted.
The
old Seven returned for an instant, the metallic eyebrow cocking as she viewed
Kathryn.
“You
once said that we had married only to safeguard myself,” Seven remembered. “A wife, you said, would not be treated as a
laboratory animal or thrown into the jaws of an uncaring StarFleet court. A wife had rights, and protections.”
A
robotic hand lightly touched Kathryn’s mow graying temples.
“Why
don’t you want me to date Phoebe?”
“You’re
not gay, and Phoebe just wants that magnificent body of yours.”
Bending
closer, Seven whispered into Kathryn’s ear.
“Who ever told you I wasn’t gay?”
Commodore
now, and once a Captain, Janeway was gone away again. Leaving a vastly confused
old redhead standing in her feet.
“I
think Chakotay, or his Spirit Guide, told him finally that our coming marriage
would be an unhealthy thing. That’s
really why we split up. He knew before
I did.”
Seven
kissed her wife’s head of hair, cradling that worn head in her human hand.
“B’Elanna
knew, and the Delaney twins, and even Sam Wildman, I’m sure. Naomi knew we had something very special
together before anyone else on the ship did.”
Kathryn
would have twisted away, but Seven would not let go.
“Remember
that night we went our separate ways, back there in San Francisco? I went back to that little Bagel place and
allowed myself to be picked up by that plump Andorian waitress. In the end we didn’t do anything, I had a
panic reaction. She simply laughed, and
graciously allowed me sleep in her bed with her the night. She drove me to my room and my regenerating
alcolve in the morning.
“The
next time I did more than panic.”
Seven
kissed Kathryn’s hair again. “I’m not straight. I make love to women. I
need women as sexual partners.
“And
we’re still wife and wife, aren’t we?”
They
kissed.
------------------------------
The
observing houseflies patiently waited.
Until both of the women began to sob, and wriggle, and cry, and snuffle,
and make inarticulate noises. They knew
nothing about confusion, or resolution, or closure, or relief, or
understanding, or apologies, or tears, or passion. Especially they understood nothing about passion. Their function was to observe.
--------------------------------
Ex-Captain
Janeway was working her kisses downhill and opening Seven’s jumpsuit when Seven
put a hand on the top of her closures.
“I
would venture a guess that that means we’re still wife and wife,” Seven
hoarsed. Kathryn went back to mumbling
and trying to open up Seven’s jumpsuit again.
“I
don’t do sex on floors anymore,” Seven announced into the air above Kathryn’s
busy little head. Then Janeway froze.
“Anymore?”
“We’ll
have lots of time, and I’ll explain it all to you. Every tawdry trashy detail, if you wish it, of every tasteless
groping. Also of every fiery romantic
and passionate kiss. I still have
perfect memory, don’t forget.”
Snuggling
into Seven’s chest, Kathryn continued.
“Did
you love any of them?”
“A
few. The very important ones. Yet even they never worked out. Do you know why?” Janeway rubbed her head in a small no.
“I
could never forget you.”
“We
never did anything.”
“THAT
is a subject on which we are going to have many lengthy discussions about. Loud discussions, perhaps. Long wordy discussions. In the future. Not now. It is something
we are going to have to come back to.
“You
hurt me, you know. Badly. You owe me.”
“Yes.” A tiny whisper.
“In
the long years between I discovered I could find within myself a very weak,
frightened, and human core, Kathryn. I
discovered I could hate, and scream, and rage, and shake, and wake from a sleep
or a regeneration crying for answers.
“I
owe all that to you.”
“Oh,
Seven .....”
“It
is not sane to punish you. Not now, not
after all this time. It is not sane to
scream at you for the same reason, or to shed copious tears. That is something I also owe the Borg. I can’t seem to fall into the same emotional
insanities so many other humans can.
“I
can never forget, but I have already forgiven, many years ago, centuries it
seems.
“Please
do not hurt me like that ever again.”
“Seven?”
Kathryn managed.
“We
shall try again.”
-----------------------------------
The
flies were patient. They were form
fulfilling function, so they waited.
They watched, but did not move.
They observed the two humans in an ancient dance sometimes called
reconciliation, sometimes termed love.
It mattered not to them. They
were as uninterested in promises as they would have been to threats. It was all just something to observe. It was their function. They also waited. It too was something they could do very, very well.
----------------------------------
“In
the meantime what do we do about Phoebe?
By the way, don’t you dare start crying on me again, Kathryn Elizabeth
Janeway. I now know all about insidious
manipulative cunning females like you.
You and your salty tears by the liter shall not wrap me around your cute
and cunning little finger. I am Borg. I am made of stronger materials.” Seven presumed Kathryn was listening
intently.
“Are
you good at cunning?” Seven asked.
Surprised,
Janeway looked into the face of her wife.
“You
just made another funny, didn’t you?”
“And?”
demanded Seven.
“Passable
good. Or so I’ve been told. If you’re talking about what I think you’re
talking about. Whathell ARE you talking
about?”
Seven
licked the side of Kathryn’s face.
“That’s
what I thought you meant.”
“Phoebe.”
“Your
date. You have to break it.”
“Good. Then we won’t break it. Instead we’ll make it a threesome. 1830 Hours.
Three women for the ‘Upstairs’ in Paducah. I’ll let her cut in and dance belly to belly whenever she wants
to.
“Oh,
yes, and Dinner. We’ll eat first.”
“You’re
eating now? Whatever happened to your
nutrient mixes?”
“All
is as it ever was. Excepting the fact I
am now very good at disguising the fact that I do not eat much.
“I’m
also going to wear something which obscenely flashes my big lovely tits. By the way, do you want them smaller? Whether or not my nanoties would allow
reductive surgery is something else, but do you like them?”
“I’ve
dreamt of them often.”
“That’s
a yes. How about you? What are you going to wear to the
‘Upstairs’”?
“I’ll
sag, but whathell, I’ll flash my breasts too.
Be one with my peers. Do you
mind an old gray-haired wife whose nipples don’t poke straight forward any
more?”
“I’ll
kiss them both hard before we go in.
Maybe that’ll make them perk up.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
“In
the meantime I have a Railroad Station to finish. Another to build after this before my day is done. If you want to stick around, you’re allowed
to serious grab-ass with the architect.
Absolutely no playing. Only
serious.”
“Afterwards?”
“We
can find something to do.”
“It’s
just a few minutes to your Hotel room,” Janeway noted.
“It’s
also a shame to leave all this deep lush grass unsullied, but if you need a
nice soft bed .....”
“I
said I don’t do floors anymore. Though
I suppose grass doesn’t count.”
“You’d
get grass stains on that sexy arse of yours.”
“No
I won’t, Kathryn Elizabeth Janeway, heroine of the spaceways.”
“Why
not?”
“You’re
going to court me.
“I
never received a Honeymoon, and the less said about your proposal the better.
“No,
I deserve the complete sixty-four-course-dinner Courtship. Chocolates, we absolutely must have
Chocolates. I have found a taste for
dark chocolate orange kremes, by the way.
Also for the cherry cordials, the ones with the liquid centers.
“As
well as cut flowers. Replicator flowers
preferred. Then there is also
dancing. And you’ll have to take me out
to a show and dinner now and then.
Think of it as my reward for a MUCH delayed honeymoon.”
“Shows?”
“Whatever
is possible. I demand shows. Lavish ornate ridiculous shows. The more ridiculous and gaudy the better. Opera and Concerts will do. They’ve re-invented Burlesque and stripping,
on Lacoen. Did you know both the
Follies Bergere and the Moulin Rouge have re-opened in Laon, France?”
“The
what?”
“Revues,
where we see magicians, comedians, and singers. But mostly where we can admire scads of adorable women displaying
adorable breasts, and incredibly adorable bodies enticingly adorned with
adorable little tiny groin-strings, if that.”
“You
can see THAT on any beach,” Kathryn explained.
“This
is different. These women parade before
you, dance, and entice you with their perfect bodies.”
“I
just said .....”
“I’ll
take you there,” Seven answered. “Or
rather you’ll take me there. Trust
me. You’ll like it. It’s different.”
“Yes,
dear,” Kathryn smiled. “Whatever you
say.”
---------------------------------------
The
flies, of course, didn’t care one way or another about the reunion of Seven and
Janeway.
--------------------------------
“You
still haven’t explained just what you’re doing building Railroad Stations in
the middle of a prairie.”
“I’m
helping rebuild the stations and track so they can run the Wabash Cannonball
again.”
“The
song.”
“Precisely. From the song.
“They’ve
rebuilt a Railroad track in Europe so they can have the Orient Express once
more running between Constantinople and Paris.
It has been a marvelous attraction throughout much of the Quadrant. They’ve even run trains with no one on board
except Vulcans. Mystery novels are
astoundingly popular on Vulcan, as well as Westerns, you know. However, on the average run of the Express,
aliens and humans mingle freely.
Everyone helps recreate past eras and murder mysteries. Dress up in period costume, acts out plays,
and pretend. Hercule Peoirot stories
such as ‘Murder on the Orient Express’ are the most popular.”
“I
wasn’t aware detective stories were so popular that they could afford to
recreate an entire railroad line.”
“A
number of anachronistic groups were behind that. This project as well.
However, it is government Credits, quite often in the form of popular
loans that are building both Railroads.
Lt. Governor Kim feels this is a decent investment, and sure to win
votes.”
“Even
so it must cost. How much are they
paying you?” Kathryn turned beet red,
and apologized for being nosy.
“Wives
are allowed to be nosy,” Seven soothed.
“As a matter of fact, I’m not making a Centime. B’Elanna asked, Tom asked, Kim asked, who
was I to turn them down?”
“You
could afford to do that?” Janeway asked.
“I mean, I’ve known you were successful, but even so?”
“Dear
holder of my Heart, dear Wife,” Seven said, cocking her head again. “We have a LOT of catching up to do in the
near future. I’m more than reasonably
well off. There are not many architects
about who can design a structure, AND build it from the ground up, using modern
robotic construction techniques.
“I’ve
done work on Pernife, Abaymas, Touchdown, Raz Huta, Excellent, Goethe,
Callisto, Mars, Mercury and Oberon.”
“And
Alpha Centauri most recently,” Janeway noted.
“Yes,
and I’m a senior partner in the Martian Chang & O’Leary GMBH. So you HAVE been following my progress in
the human collective.”
“I
purposely tried not to think about you,” Kathryn admitted. “So I didn’t follow your career as closely
as I should.”
“On
my part, I’ve personally watched you cross Cochrane Plaza sixteen times,
Kathryn, there in front of StarFleet Tower,” Seven said.
Suddenly
Seven was behind Janeway, her face in her wife’s hair, her hands busy on the
smaller body. She carefully cupped
Kathryn’s breasts, and then ran fingers down her sides.
“I
know your bra size, and I know you still cut a Danish in two in the morning,
and finish it with your morning coffee.
I know you don’t go out enough, and you never pick anyone up when you go
to a beach. I know you spent too many
of your Credits acquiring that full nude oil of your sister, the one done by
Lassitzky.
“You
love her very deeply, don’t you?”
“When
I’m not yelling at her,” Kathryn whispered.
------------------------------
The
houseflies were not interested in reunions, or love, or kisses, or giggles, or
earnest promises. Their job was to
observe. They did that extremely
well. Six more houseflies were released
from the ball so that they could efficiently observe when Kathryn, Phoebe, and
Seven descended on the ‘Upstairs’.
---------------------------------
Janeway could feel her Cordon Blue chicken begging her to lie down so that it could
turn into fat, but she was busy doggedly dancing. Never mind she was a good dancer, tonight she was having a
struggle keeping up with Seven. Tangos
were more the Commodore’s style, not ‘Spartakaide’ and its violent
pseudo-Gymnastic movements. Kathryn
noted Phoebe knew the steps and motions, but drew some comfort from the fact
Phoebe and Seven were dancing together nearly a meter away from each
other. When that set ended, Kathryn
dragged both women back to their table.
There were just two chairs left there now.
Suddenly Seven solved the problem. She hoisted a
surprised wife onto her lap. Once there
Kathryn was prepared to fight to the death to remain in that lap. Seven nuzzled her head against her wife’s,
and gently hefted a dark-red-tipped breast.
It was against the House Rules concerning public display of such intimate acts,
but Seven twisted about so that she could quickly swallow the Commodore’s large
nipple.
Kathryn Elizabeth Janeway was left with a wet spot on her blouse, and nipples so hard
they could cut steel. As well as a
certain rush of satisfaction. She still
had it, whatever it was. Maybe.
“Seven? Do you want to leave early?” Hoping, obviously.
Instead Seven twisted around and grabbed the arm of a twentyish stocky woman as she
squeezed past their table.
“Say there, cute and curly haired. I’d like
you to meet Phoebe,” Seven told her.
“Grab a chair.”
When she came back, Kathryn could easily see the long erection bulging the crotch of
the stranger’s blue jeans. Phoebe was
mesmerized by the display. When the
stranger (named Mercy) was seated, she snagged Phoebe’s hand and placed it on
the obvious dildo she was wearing. The
look on Phoebe’s face was worth a fortune.
In five minutes Mercy was nibbling on Phoebe’s ear. After that the Cardassians could have led a Commando Team inside
the ‘Upstairs’ to rape, plunder, and pillage and neither woman would have
noticed.
“Seven, that was DISGUSTING!” Kathryn said in Seven’s ear. Seven smirked. “You all
but threw that poor little defenseless lamb to the wolf, there!”
“Phoebe won’t hurt her,” Seven replied. “Unless
they get into a little leather and spanking, or something rough. Is your sister into dog collars and whips?”
“I meant Phoebe was the lamb. Not Mercy!”
“Your opinion. As for Mercy, you come into a
gay bar packing, you’re no lamb.
Besides, I already noticed her working the stand-up bar. She by-passed the aggressive out butches, sportschix and babydykes, and tried to hit on three straight-looking older
gals. Therefore I believed Phoebe was
exactly what she was looking for. I was
right. It’s a perfect match. Phoebe will thank you for it later.
“Now then, wife, let’s dance.”
It was another more-than-slightly energetic music, but Seven held Kathryn close to
her, and proceeded to do a nice sedate foxtrot that involved a lot of body
pressing against the other body.
After a little confusion, Janeway smiled and let her wife lead them through the music
that only they could hear. It was great
fun ignoring everyone else, even though they got bumped a few times.
Afterwards, they discovered Phoebe and Mercy had disappeared.
Kathryn didn’t worry. She thought it probable
that Phoebe would make an appearance three or five days later. She was more than a little surprised when
Mercy and Phoebe reappeared a half hour later.
They were holding hands, and their clothing was a little
disheveled. The Ladies John was back in
the direction from which they appeared.
What made Janeway stare was when she realized Phoebe’s short knee skirt was severely
tented from the dildo she was obviously now wearing. Mercy was sans dildo.
Kathryn blushed when Phoebe massaged her new-found erection through her skirt.
Mercy became Phoebe’s houseguest that night.
They woke Kathryn up five times during the night. Matters were not improved by Kathryn having to sleep alone.
-----------------------------------
By late next month twenty additional fake houseflies had been released by a now
much-shrunken ball. Several were in the
process of rejoining the other houseflies, but their wings were small and their
journey long. Those that remained
performed function in their customary manner, as they had for the last five
weeks.
-----------------------------------
Lying in the tall grass, Kathryn had the time to enjoy the vista afforded them on
this embankment.
Phoebe and Mercy were lost in their own world again, so Seven and her were prone and
clothed (but together), on the thick comfortable self-warming blanket. Costumed, actually.
It was a gorgeous end to a lovely day. To
the west the sun was lowering towards near-dusk, and the air was clear and
bracing. Before them swept the wide
Wabash Valley. Down the center, north
of the river, shined the ribbons of rail on which the Wabash Cannonball was
soon to roar. From Phoebe’s Comm lying
in the grass they all could hear a commercial musicmeister keeping everyone posted
on the progress of the first run of the reborn ‘Wabash Cannonball’.
The sound was just enough to be heard, but not interfere with the peace and
serenity Kathryn felt. Her chin rested
on her arms, and she smiled into the persistent caressing of her shoulders and
back by Seven’s long fingers. Her shirt
was tented towards her neck, and Seven’s ministrations under her uniform tunic
were slow and gentle. Relaxing. Just a tiny erotic, but mostly relaxing.
The Valley was a giant trough here.
Shallow, and with gentle slopes, but twenty kilometers from side to side
at this point. On all the slope
opposite, and for as far as Kathryn could see in either direction, lights
sparkled as picnicking watchers waited for the Wabash Cannonball.
Somewhere on the southern slope she understood a party of almost eight dozen Vulcans were
also taking part in this strange paean to the past. Here, along the course of the Wabash River, were the prime
viewing spots.
It
was a festival, a fair, a carnival, a party, a masquerade. To Kathryn’s left a party of four had
arrived in an open coach drawn by a pair of proud maybe-Arabian horses. They were in the meters and meters of
suffocating clothing customary for a party of upper-class Yankees circa 1900
AD, right down to the bowler hats for the men, and large feathers in incredible
hats for the women. A family of
American Indians, (all in buckskins) were enjoying conversing with a similar
group of dark Asiatic Indians (in Sari’s and turbans). There were three Vikings, a pair supposed to
be Spock and Kirk, Kathryn thought, and a party of six Paleolithic Cave
People. Retreating to her right were
four Hunnish (or Mongol) horsemen from central Asia.
Phoebe
and Mercy had celebrated by stripping their pants off and having sex, right out
in front of everyone. Apart from a
little scattered applause, no one had objected OR evidently noticed.
The
pair dozed now, expecting Kathryn or Seven would wake them for the grand event.
At
that moment a trio of wandering Romans, in their togas, congratulated Seven and
Kathryn on their authenticity of costume.
They said the two women made a convincing Captain Janeway and Seven of
Nine.
Kathryn
had been mortified to find she needed a larger-in-the-hips pair of trousers
than she once wore on VOYAGER. However,
once in the old uniform, it was amazing how, well, normal it felt to be once
more wearing her Captain’s red-shouldered command uniform. Even if it was a Replicator copy. Her real uniforms were now gracing a museum
on Mars, or statuary in StarFleet Tower, respectively.
Seven
was amazing (and beautiful!) with her long hair up in a well-remembered tight
bun, and wearing the exact copy of the electric blue biosuit she’d worn so many
times before in the Delta Quadrant.
The
result was a steady stream of compliments by passerby, and a few chuckles from
Phoebe’s mouth.
Seven
rolled onto Kathryn and began kissing her wife’s neck, nibbling on her ear,
being close and loving.
“Seven,”
Kathryn murmured, “I’m going to go crazy if you keep teasing me. Either follow through for once, or leave me
to enjoy the rumble and the roar when the Cannonball comes through. Which is any minute now.”
Suddenly
the eerie whistle of a train whistle came through the air, heralding the
arrival of the First Train on North America in nearly three hundred years.
“I
see it! I see it!” Kathryn squealed.
Seven
continued kissing and caressing her ex-Captain.
“I
asked you, Seven, please don’t tease me tonight. I’m not in the mood for a few kisses that lead nowhere.”
“Then
we must ensure they lead somewhere.”
“Seven?”
“Phoebe
and Mercy have demonstrated that public sexual acts are allowed tonight. I have observed no less than eight couples
of varied genders and species making love not 200 yards from us,” Seven said.
“Therefore
I am going to remove a number of your garments first. Then I am going to make mad passionate love to you until you
scream loud enough for everyone in the Wabash River Valley to know what is
happening.”
“Seven?” in a small wavering voice.
“Resistance is futile. You will be assimilated.”
“Seven.....”
“If the thought of imitating your sister Phoebe upsets you, I am perfectly willing
to wait an hour or so until we begin our long-delayed Honeymoon.”
“Seven.”
“In the meanwhile, provided you opt for later, I intend to snake my hands under a
selected few of your garments and bring you to an unendurable state of quite
unfulfilled sexual anticipation.”
“sevennnnnn.....”
“Starting now.”
“sevensevensevensevenseven.....”
Kathryn squirmed eagerly underneath the weight of her wife, and her groping hand. She was trying to do everything at once.
A pebble hit her head and she looked up into a eyes of a grinning Caucasoid male
costumed in a Monk’s cowled cassock.
He said: “Die, Bitchs.” Then he thumbed something in his hand.
-----------------------------------
What he had in his hand was something termed a Solar Grenade. It was not a product of the timeline Janeway and Seven were in, but he had one nonetheless.
When it fulfilled its function, it converted all atomic matter in two and a half
meters radius into excited and striped atomic nuclei. The air, the man, and the two women instantly disappeared. These atoms immediately recombined, for the
most part, as Helium and Hydrogen. The
conversion process liberated vast amounts of gamma and beta waves, as well as
radiation in the visible spectrum. The
blast wave from the Solar Grenade immediately converted almost everything
within a thirty-five meter radius into chemical reactants and molecular
remains.
It created a creater almost perfectly globular over one hundred and sixty-six
meters across. The shock wave and heat
wave then incinerated everyone and everything organic for a 362-meter
radius. Everything immediately affected
turned into ash. The expanding shock
wave violently derailed the fast-moving Wabash Cannonball, with great loss of
life. The immediate killing radius
reached the other side of the Wabash River Valley. Over it all roared the familiar mushroom cloud.
Also destroyed were nine of the replicant houseflies. However, they sent forward their data UNTIL the moment of destruction.
The ball immediately sent this data forward to the target Entity.
It took many hundreds of years for this information to reach the Entity, but it
also was very patient. It was, after
all, a descendant of Computers. Despite
it’s sophistication, living Staff still made the judgments and decisions.
Eventually the mechanisms of the master Entity received and correctly interpreted the
incoming relevant data. It then
initiated a flagging and warning to a diligent watcher.
This watcher was not human, and it didn’t speak Standard, but what it then said
could be loosely translated as: “Gotcha!”
This watcher then informed its superiors.
They, in turn, began a process which eventually resulted in decisive
action being taken.
They undertook this action for their own reasons. But it had farseeing results.
-------------------------------
“In the meanwhile, provided you opt for later, I intend to snake my hands under a
selected few of your garments and bring you to an unendurable state of
unfulfilled sexual anticipation.”
“sevennnnnn.....”
“Starting now.”
“sevensevensevensevenseven.....”
Kathryn squirmed eagerly underneath the weight of her wife, and her groping hand. She was trying to do everything at once.
Close to hand, an intent young man in a Monk’s cassock brought something out of a
pocket slit. Not more than three meters
away a couple bumped into this preoccupied male as he rushed towards Seven and
Kathryn Janeway.
The Monk fell down, as did the couple. In a
moment the couple rose from the grass, but the Monk did not. The Monk also seemed to have lost whatever it was he had been holding in a hand.
After the stranger fell down, the couple Commed for medical assistance for the fallen
individual. Quickly a robotic LifeFlic
arrived, and took on board the casualty.
There was still no sign of the Solar Grenade.
The couple went their own way after conversing with the LifeFlic
RobotComputer. They disappeared into the night.
--------------------------------
Perhaps an impartial observer might have wondered if recovery of the Solar Grenade had
all along been the goal of the houseflies and their masters. The Grenade, after all, did not belong in this timeline. They could not retrieve
the Grenade until they could see WHO it was that used it, there in
Indiana. Then trace him back and take
action.
Or whether the goal had been the salvation of Seven of Nine. Or perhaps Commodore Janeway. Or even the life of Phoebe, Quadrant-famous artist. Or even the young Mercy with most of her
life ahead of herself. In the event,
utilizing the information sent by the houseflies, the actions of the staff of
the Entity saved them, and many more lives as well. Leaving them all alive to influence the future.
It really didn’t matter why. Only the results mattered to Seven and Kathryn.
One of those eventual results were a much-delayed Honeymoon, which
included a Habitat tent set up on a deserted Arabian white-sanded beach.
On that note, we can say this is the beginning, and not the
END
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